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She shoves the deposit aside and hauls the laptop closer. Eyes glued to the screen, she scrolls and clicks with the same fire I feel in my veins.
For an hour, I stared at the figure and the numbers that tally the sum. Sales should have easily been three times what they are. The season hasn’t peaked yet, but every day feels busier than the previous. Sharon and August never have a down minute in the kitchen. The front counter has lines out the door for hours at a time. Oftentimes, we have trouble keeping up with taking orders and keeping the tables bussed.
The past two weeks, I considered adding another busser position. Though Caleb was on summer break from college, he still worked fewer hours than the other part-time employees. Same for Roberto. I didn’t fault them. After busting tail all semester, time off is a treat.
But if the income isn’t there, I can’t bring on another employee.
“I’ll have to spend more time out of the office and in the dining room.” My eyes lose focus as I rack my brain for an explanation. “I’ve been holed up in here more. Maybe I’m missing something major by not being out there enough.”
Willow spins the laptop back in my direction. “This isn’t your fault, Lessa. I’ve been out there when you’re not and I haven’t noticed anything to explain this.”
“Aaahh,” I all but yell.
Reaching across the desk, she takes my hand. “We’ll figure it out,” she says in a staccato. “Even if we have to patrol the dining room all day. Sales aren’t bad. They just aren’t as great as the foot traffic says they should be.” A smile splits her face as she releases my hand. “What you need to do is wrap up the day, go upstairs, and get yourself ready for your man. Won’t he be here soon?”
Braydon. He’d been gone three week-long days. Staying busy makes me miss him less. But damn, I miss him on an unhealthy level.
Nights after work are the worst. Hours of time alone. Hours I could have spent with Mags and Lena, but they’d had other plans in place.
I don’t fault them for having a life or prior engagements. As far as they are concerned, everything with me is good. Minus the vandalism, which I haven’t mentioned since the cops taped off half the café, nothing cataclysmic has happened. Worrying my friends for no reason is a fool’s errand. Yes, they are my business partners, but no good news has come from the sheriff. No sense in riling everyone up.
So instead of sitting in my apartment alone and zoning out in front of the television, I wear myself out in the café. Scrub the tables and chairs with a little more gusto. Sweep and mop and polish the floors like it’s never been done. Deep clean the coffee makers and espresso machines until they shine in the light. I ignore the kitchen—August and Sharon would throw a fit if I cleaned the ranges or coolers improperly.
Then each night, I lug myself up the stairs, shower, and fall into bed.
Though I work through the lonely hours, it never fully erases how much I miss Braydon. Tired as I am, sleep doesn’t come easy. I toss and turn for hours. Cuddling the pillow he slept on helps, but it isn’t the same. And I miss waking up in his arms. I miss staring at his profile for what feels like hours before I finally get up. Oddly enough, I also miss his sporadic, rumbly snores.
Missing him like I do… terrifies me the most.
Seems impossible, but what if Braydon doesn’t want me the way I want him? What if he is happy with this wholesee each other on weekendsrelationship?
In the beginning, it was ideal. We were both busy, lived an hour’s drive apart, and had our reasons for being anti-relationship before us. Easing into this—into there being an us—is the smart move. Hell, a month hadn’t passed since we agreed to more than hooking up.
But I want more. What more entails… I have no clue.
“Earth to Lessa.” Willow waves a hand in front of my face, a smirk on her lips.
“Yeah. Sorry.” I glance at the time on the computer. “He should be here soon.” I close the lid to the laptop. “Sure you’re good to finish up?”
“Pssh.” She waves me off. “Are you kidding?” She stuffs the bank deposit in the bag, seals it, and locks it in the safe. “The minute you’re out the door, I’m cranking the radio and singing into the end of the broomstick.”
I laugh, picturing her doing just that. Not many people enjoy cleaning, might as well make it fun.
Hinges creak as I roll the chair back from the desk and rise. I grab my purse off the hook near the door and shoulder it. Take a step outside the office and peek over my shoulder.
“Don’t have too much fun,” I tease.
With a roll of her eyes, she shoos me away. “Quit worrying about me and go.Have fun. I’ll see you later.”
Just as I pick up my fork, my cell phone rings.
“Shit. Sorry.” I dig the noisy device from my purse and smile down at the screen before answering. “Hey, Baby A.”
Braydon’s brows furrow as he mouths, “Baby A?”
I cover the phone speaker and whisper, “My little brother.” Turning my attention to the call, I ask, “What wilderness range are you tromping through now?”
Hearty laughter rings through the line. “You make me sound like a barbarian,” Anderson teases. “And I’m not tromping through any. Which is part of the reason I called.”
