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He harrumphed. I cut his slices of cake first, carefully placing them into a box.
“What are you doing to increase business? You’re slow.” He glanced around at my lack of a line. It was late in the afternoon, the in-between time which usually had a lull.
“I’m easing into things. You know it’s just me here most days.”
I packed up his supper, adding a couple of extra pot pies to the to-go container.
“I don’t understand why you don’t hire more people.”
“Because I haven’t had the time,” I replied truthfully. “Do you know of anyone?”
“No,” he said quickly, clamping his mouth closed. I guessed the free advice portion of the day was over.
“Are you married?”
“Are you interested?”
I nearly passed out.Mr. Hardaway made a joke?
“You’d probably rather be with someone who’s around a little more than I could be.”
“Nope. The less I have to see her, the less she can nag.” I stared at him incredulously. “The key to a good marriage isn’t spending time together. It’s spending time apart.”
“I imagine you can be a handful.”
He scowled. “The younger generation has no respect for their elders.”
With that, he shoved a wad of money into the tip jar and stalked off.
“See you tomorrow,” I yelled.
“Not likely if you keep insulting me.”
“I only meant there’s never a dull moment around you,” I said, and his glare leveled me.
“The thanks I get for doing business with you. See if I give you any more advice.”
“I hope you do.” No one was around, so I darted out of the truck, easily catching up to him. The man had good taste buds, a very dry sense of humor, and if I was honest, was probably a little bored.I must be crazy, but . .“Why don’t you come work with me?”
He screeched to a halt. “I’d run off what few customers you do have.”
I snickered. “You could help out in the back,” I offered.
“I don’t need a job. I already worked all my life. One lifetime is enough for me.”
He took off once more. I watched him go, a gigantic smile on my face. There was more to that man than he let on, and I wanted to find out what was underneath his prickly exterior.
Chapter Fourteen
Andrew
“So what’sthe deal with you and the angel face?”
My brother took a swig of his beer, leaning his chair back on two legs. The kid in me wished he’d tip over and bust his ass. Who was I kidding? The grown-up in me did too.
“There is no deal,” I said, spinning my glass of whiskey on a coaster.
I was overdressed for Pat’s, but Holt and I had been coming here before either of us could legally drink. It screamed dive bar and probably could have lived a thousand different lives in the time it had been here, yet it remained the same. There was an “H” my brother had carved on the edge of the table when he was about seventeen or so. Even some of the chairs were from back then. They weren’t comfortable, yet customers always came back.
