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I boxed it up, again refusing when he tried to hand me money. He stuffed it in the tip jar. His warning look stopped me from taking it out.
“I had a rough day yesterday, and I took it out on you. I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”
“I’ve already accepted your apology. No need to bring it up again.” I took a swig of water from my bottle. “I hope today has been better.”
“Much.” He picked up the box with his slice of cake. “Make plenty of those short ribs tomorrow. When I tell the guys at the station how great they were, they’ll be down here in droves.”
I cracked a smile. “They trust your taste?”
“I’ve never steered them wrong.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
He placed his lemonade down and reached into the front pocket of his shirt. “Here’s my card. If anyone gives you any trouble or if you need anything, call me, Miss Norris.”
“Thank you, Officer Wilson,” I said, accepting the card and stuffing it in my back pocket.
“Timothy. Please. Call me Timothy.”
“Timothy. Okay. Call me Trish.”
He grinned, totally disarming me. “See you later, Trish. Thanks again for lunch.”
Dazed, I watched him head down the street. Whiplash. That’s what Officer Wilson—Timothy—gave me. I definitely liked this version better. He didn’t scare me. Didn’t seem like the same person hell-bent on giving me a citation yesterday.
He’d said to be prepared tomorrow for a crowd, but it wasn’t a half hour before a group of men in uniform were at my window. They kept me busy well into the afternoon. I needed another hand, but I hadn’t found anyone to replace Sonya yet. She always helped me in a pinch, though I hated asking because she had her own sporting goods store to run. Sometimes, it felt like Delores was partly Sonya’s baby too. She’d named my truck Delores after a week of indecision on my part.
But with all the promises to return tomorrow, I’d need her help if I didn’t want to get overwhelmed. I couldn’t afford big mistakes. The officers had been patient and friendly enough, but I didn’t want to disappoint customers unnecessarily.
When I had a minute, I fired off a text to Sonya.
SOS. Need your help tomorrow.
I want chocolate cake. A whole one.
I laughed, despite knowing she wasn’t kidding.
Done.
She responded in seconds.
See you at ten. :)
Text me if you decide you want strawberry instead.
Bring one of those too.
I’d just slipped my phone back in my pocket when Mr. Hardaway puttered up to the window. I checked my watch. “You’re late.”
“Had a damn doctor’s appointment.”
“How’d it go?” I cut him a slice of champagne chiffon cake.
“I’m going to live a really long time.”
He made it hard to hide my amusement.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
