Page 27 of How My Fake Alien Boyfriend Learned to Cook and Saved the Family Business

“Mornin’, honey,” came a voice from outside the kitchen. “Sorry I’m a little late, but Earl forgot where he put his dang keys again, and—”

Darlene, my weekday waitress, pushed through the kitchen door in her usual flurry of chatter as she tied her apron.

“Well, hello there,” Darlene said as soon as her eyes landed on Kal. She braced an arm on the counter and leaned forward, giving us both a full view of her cleavage. “I don’t believe we’ve met before, sugar. I’m Darlene.” She smacked her chewing gum and flashed Kal a wink.

My eyes nearly rolled out of my head at her shameless display. Darlene always was the biggest flirt I’d ever met. Anywhere else, she might have gotten in trouble for it over her twenty years of employment, but she was as much of a staple at Southern Charm as chicken fried steak.

Still…it was annoying how quickly I was hit with a pang of jealousy. I wanted her to stop looking at Kal like he was a cinnamon roll she wanted to dig into.

“This is Kal,” I said, stepping in front of him. Not because I was jealous or anything. Because I needed to continue with breakfast prep. “Kal’s going to help us with Back of House stuff.”

I gestured to Kal. “Mind taking care of these dishes for me?” He nodded and got to work. But not before catching my eye and holding it, eyebrow arched in confusion.

I’m confused too, buddy. Join the club.

I turned my attention back to Darlene. “I’m guessing you already heard about Julian walking out this past weekend?”

News traveled fast in a town like Roswell Falls, where the days were slow, and the rumor mill was always spinning. And Darlene loved to gossip with the rest of them.

“You want to teach him a lesson?” Darlene asked in a low voice. “My sons are in town.”

I smiled. Sweet gesture, if not somewhat terrifying. That was one good thing about small towns that I’d never known elsewhere—when someone has known you for your whole life, they got into the habit of treating you like kin.

But as much as I would have loved to send a message, I was, unfortunately, a mature adult. I didn’t want to cause problems that didn’t already exist. Besides, I had bigger fish to fry, like saving my family’s fifty-year-old restaurant from shutting down.

“No thanks,” I told her, prepping the breading mix for our buttermilk fried chicken, which was by far our best-selling dish. “Water under the bridge. And we don’t really need him, do we?”

No answer.

Well then.

The evidence of our dwindling customer base was right in front of me, in the form of ingredients. The recipe we used to use for breading mix made huge batches of fried chicken. That was back in the good days, when people would come in droves for our chicken biscuits and plates piled high with chicken and waffles drizzled with hot honey.

Now, every month feels like an uphill battle to make rent, afford inventory, and distribute payroll. And I’m sure Darlene sees the hit in her tips already, so it’s actually kind of her to hold her tongue.

“Alright, hon,” she said, finally breaking the silence. “You just let me know if you change your mind.” She tightened her apron strings. “I’m gonna go put the coffee on. Ollie’s probably already bangin’ that dang mug on the counter waitin’ for his fix.”

Ollie was our most regular customer. He would come every day we were open, rain or shine, and always order the same thing. Black coffee, two eggs over easy, toast, and turkey bacon. He actually ordered regular bacon, but after his heart attack last year, I’d started subbing it out for turkey. Ollie either hadn’t noticed or had decided not to complain because Dr. Wasan, Roswell Falls’ family physician, might catch him and give him a proper scolding about his eating habits.

“I’ll get started on the eggs and bacon if you get the toast,” I told Darlene, turning toward the walk-in fridge.

“You got it,” Darlene said, tucking a pen behind her ear. “And Lola?”

“Yeah?” I asked, distracted.

“New guy’s cute. I’d go for it if I were you.”

My mouth dropped open. I whipped my head around to tell her it was absolutely not an option and that I wasn’t interested anyway. But Darlene was already gone, kitchen door swinging.

Kal

“You’re letting the weird bug guy sleep here overnight?”

Lola’s brother’s voice was only slightly muffled by the door of the office—which meant I could hear everything they were saying, but a little quieter. When Jacob arrived this afternoon, Lola had shuffled him into the office, ordering him to do homework. I wasn’t quite sure what that meant, just that it sounded unpleasant.

After the last customer left, followed by that delightful human woman, Darlene, only three of us remained: myself, Lola, and Jacob. Lola wouldn’t say it out loud, but I could sense that she might have regretted her offer to let me sleep here tonight. I wanted to tell her that I didn’t need to stay, because I actually liked sleeping outside and waking up to the sun. But when I’d looked outside, I saw water falling from the sky in great sheets, and I didn’t think I would enjoy that very much.

Not to mention, I wasn’t sure my hu-suit could handle that much exposure to the elements. After a full day of washing and drying dishes, my fingers looked pink and wrinkled. Troubling. Without full specs on the suit, and no immediate plan for getting home, I was nervous to push my chances. It was imperative that my suit stay in working order.