Page 14 of Knot What I Expected

“Goddammit!” my boss, Frank, shouts.

Yep.

Definitely one of those days.

The Joint is packed for lunch, every vinyl-covered booth occupied and almost every stool at the counter taken. The smell of burgers, onions, grease, and barbecue sauce hangs thick in the air, and normally I love it.

Okay, love might be a strong word.

I appreciate it.

The Joint pays my bills.

Mostly.

It puts food on the table.

Mostly.

And the tips keep Matteo in sneakers because my six-year-old apparently has the feet of a rapidly growing Sasquatch.

So, yes, I appreciate my job.

But today?

Today, I want to burn the fucking place down.

Which is an unfortunate thought, considering the guys who usually sit in the corner booth are actual wildfire firefighters.

“Gabby!”

I close my eyes.

One.

Two.

Three.

“What, Frank?”

My boss shoves through the swinging kitchen doors, wiping his hands on the stained apron stretched across his considerable belly.

“Table six has been waiting.”

“I know. Because table six ordered twelve minutes ago.”

“Well, get them drinks.”

“They have drinks.”

“Refills, then.”

“I just refilled them, Frank.”

His eyes narrow.

Mine probably do too.