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“Oh, I thought I knew everyone in this town.” She looks genuinely surprised, and I can’t tell if it’s a pleasant surprise or not.
“I keep to myself a lot
.”
“Brianna, you’ve got two new tables!” a man calls from the other end of the patio. He looks annoyed, but the way he snaps at her kind of irritates me.
“Be right there,” Brianna calls back. She turns to me again. “Sorry, it’s getting busy.”
“It’s alright. Go do your thing.”
“It’ll be like this for another hour or so, and then the dinner crowd will be worse,” she says, dread on her face.
“You’re working two shifts?” I ask.
“Yep. It’s what pays the bills.” She shrugs.
“Understandable.” I smile, seeing how hard she’s working.
“Well, nice meeting you, Tate,” Brianna says, then turns and walks off with the pot of coffee tightly grasped in her hand.
“You too.”
I watch her walk away, and I find myself admiring her curves. I wish that the café wasn't getting busy so that we could talk more. Surprising, considering that I haven't craved conversation in a while.
The pie is delicious. I savor it but know I've got to get going because I need to get back to chopping trees at the cabin. I write a one hundred dollar tip on the credit card slip and make the zeros into smiley faces, just like the ones Brianna wrote on the top of my check.
“Come on, Shark,” I say, taking his leash and walking through the patio area toward the gate that leads to the sidewalk. The other customers watch Shark as he passes by and he could care less about anyone.
I open the gate for Shark, and walk him to the truck and open the door, and he climbs in without help. Walking around to the driver's side, I'm full and happy and glad I stopped at the café. Just as I put the key in the ignition and hear the familiar growl of my engine, I look back toward the café. Brianna steps outside, her brown hair blowing in the breeze and she’s walking to the table where my credit card slip is.
Shock covers her face when she sees the tip, and she looks up and looks around. The noise from my engine causes her to look in my direction, and our eyes meet again. She gives me a warm, relaxed smile, and I half-attempt the same.
“Thank you,” she mouths and waves goodbye to me. I do the same and feel like an idiot knowing how happy I made her. I hope she doesn't think that I'm aloof or something because, in reality, I find myself intrigued by Brianna Carson.
2
Brianna
I’m so damn clumsy today. First I drop a tray of dishes, and now I have to clean up a plate of salad that hit the floor. Sometimes I wonder why I chose to stay in Whitefish and become a waitress in the first place. I could’ve gotten out of this town and done something with my life, but once dad got sick, it felt like I had no other option, but I’m making the best of it.
I do like the food at the Whitefish Cafe, and I'm a people person, so it makes my job easy. I'm not so crazy about the tourists that come during the winter, because they're always starving after a full day of skiing and they're pushy. But thankfully, things are a bit more relaxed during the summer, and people are more patient, except for today.
The day was slow, and as soon as a gorgeous man came and sat down, it's like every person in the town wanted to eat a wrap.
Tate. At first, I didn't know what to make of him with that beard and clothes, but his green eyes were striking. They pulled me in and still haven’t let me go. I can’t stop thinking about them.
And I’m pretty sure he’s the reason for my slippery hands and screwing up orders. I'm just distracted. I was almost thankful when he left because I figured my concentration would return, but that wasn’t the case. After his generous tip, I'm left standing in shock. It would’ve taken me at least two days to make a hundred bucks.
“Brianna, can you do a double tomorrow?” Josh asks. He’s my manager and not my biggest fan.
“I’ve been on a double the past two days,” I protest. I’m clearing plates because the busboy seems just as out-to-lunch today as I am.
“Vanessa called in sick. We need you,” Josh says, begging.
I want to say no. I want to make excuses and say that I’m doing something important tomorrow, but the truth is there's nothing more important than paying the bills, so I cave.
“Sure,” I say, taking the dishes to the back, wishing I could sleep in one day this weekend, but I know that’s a wasted wish.
