I stand up from the table I’m sitting at and walk up to the counter again to check on our food. After we visited Cedar Creek Ranch, we walked around the town, but Mom was too exhausted for the Christmas market. We decided to call it an early night and while the rest of my family went back to the Inn, I stopped in to pick up our dinner. Dad wanted to stay with me, but I sent him back as well. The Inn is only a five-minute walk away.
“Excuse me, I just wanted to check on my order, for Monroe. I’ve been waiting for over an hour,” I say to the server behind the counter.
“It will be another few minutes. We’re just very busy,” she says, without looking up at me. I didn’t doubt they were busy because we’d seen a bus full of tourists arrive earlier in theafternoon. But people who came after me had already picked up their order, so I found it a bit suspicious that mine was still not ready.
“Can you please check?” I ask in a voice that I hate to use. Sienna calls it my ‘dealing with a bully voice’. It’s hard and leaves no room for an argument.
The girl finally looks up and heaves a sigh. “Sure. Let me just drop everything and check.”
Okay, something weird was definitely going on. All I’d ask her to do was her job. Maybe I caught her on an off day and maybe it was my fault for pushing her to check on my order. I will make sure to leave her a big tip.
The door behind me opens and I step aside to let the new person come in. Heat spreads across my back and when I breathe in, I’m hit with the clean, cool scent of winter and something warm and woodsy like sandalwood.
I stiffen, looking over my shoulder. My eyes meet dark green ones. Of course, it’s Connor because the universe hates me and seems to have a personal vendetta against me. For a second, I consider leaving the food that’s never going to be ready and walking out of here.
But why do I have to leave when I haven’t done anything, and he gets to exist like he’s the king of the world?
I turn around and face the counter, completely ignoring him. Which is hard to do when the man is 6’5” and he still makes my body hum like I’m coming alive. I feel him step up to the counter and I pull out my ereader to read the book I’ve auditioned for. Gemma St. James is one of my favorite authors and I’ve already recorded two books by her, but I definitely want this one. The main character is a little edgier, a lot unlikable, and a part of me really connects with her.
“Oh, Connor!” The server is back. “Your order will be ready in another minute or so.”
She smiles at him sweetly and I feel that familiar hum of frustration and jealousy. I tamp down the latter emotion because I have no business being jealous over Connor.
“Thank you, Anna.” God, the sound of his voice. It’s rough and unexpectedly smooth, like a blend of whisky that’s been aged to perfection and hits all the right notes.
“Can I get you something to drink while you’re waiting?” Her cheeks flush pink and I get it. I’ve been there, specifically
I might as well be invisible to her, even with my bright lavender hair.
“Excuse me, what about my order?”
She frowns, looking at me like she’s forgotten why I’m here. “Oh, uh, it’s going to be another few minutes.”
Either they were really,reallybusy, or something fishy was going on.
I feel Connor look at me as I try to control my anger. I have never in my life been rude to service workers because I might be an angry person but I’m not a shit person. I’ve worked in the service industry, and these are my people. So, my only choice here is to walk away and leave the order. Right? Because I can’t be fucking angry at her that my order has taken over an hour to prepare.
“How long have you been waiting?” The question comes from Connor.
“Not long,” Anna says. “We’re very busy.”
Connor is still looking at me and I wish he’ll stop. Why is he making this more difficult than it needs to be? Something brushes against the edge of my coat, and I look down to see Connor’s hand flexing towards me before he clenches it into a fist.
I look up at him. He’s looking at me plaintively, almost desperately. My heart squeezes painfully. I told myself I won’t talk to him and I’m about to break that rule becauseI’m exhausted and he’s here. I’m suddenly remembering how considerate he always was, always wanting me to be comfortable and safe. So protective.
I didn’t need anyone to protect me, but I couldn’t deny that it was nice to be protected. To have someone go to bat for me, or stand behind me ready to jump in.
“Over an hour,” I say with a swallow.
Connor’s jaw flexes as he grinds his teeth. “Wait here.”
He turns and walks towards the back of the restaurant. The server glares at me and I don’t understand what I’ve done wrong.
A minute later, Connor is striding back out with two paper bags in his hands. My stomach practically growls.
“I’ve got your order. Are you going back to The Honeysuckle?”
I can only nod. How does he know where I’m staying?
