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“Misery loves company.” Marty scooted the chair his leg was propped on closer so he could massage his swollen calf.
“Let me see.” She moved nearer and attempted to lift the bottom of his jogging pants.
“Fuck off.”
“Am I expected to watch you suffer without doing anything to help?”
“You really want to help?” Marty asked in a sweet tone she hadn’t heard from him before.
Sincerely, she placed a hand on his shoulder. “Yes, I do.”
“Then go deliver that fucking food before it gets cold and leave me the fuck alone!” he bellowed.
She bent over to yell in his face. “See if I care anymore! I hope your foot rots off, you mean asshole.” With that, she stormed out of the restaurant,
She had to turn the radio on. Marty made her so furious that the only song she wanted to sing was “Kung Fu Fighting,” making karate chopping motions with her hands as she pretended to karate chop Marty in her imagination. She was in a much lighter mood when she arrived at her first stop.
“Why did I take this order?” she muttered under her breath as she sloughed through the un-shoveled snow to the hotel office door.
Money. Car repairs were eating up her profits. She needed to buy a car, or her new business would go under.
When she opened the door, she cheered up at seeing Chelsea wasn’t working behind the counter.
“Thank goodness. I’m starving.”
“How are you doing today, Harford?” she greeted him warmly.
The day clerk was an older man, retired, who actually lived in Jamestown. Megan had met him when she came to the office to extend her stay. Since she'd learned that Chelsea worked at night and days on the weekends, any reasons she needed to go to the office were taken care of when Harford was working.
“You bring the extra pickles I asked for?”
“Of course.”
Marty had argued, right up until she promised to give him a dollar for them.
“Then it’s a great day.”
She handed Harford the food and gave him a puzzled look. “I thought you didn’t work on the weekends?”
“The owner of the hotel asked me to take Chelsea’s shift so they could have a meeting. Chelsea had to drive to Jamestown for the convo, so I’m guessing I’ll be stuck here for another hour or two.”
“Ah … Well, that explains that,” she joked, giving him a jaunty wave goodbye. “Drive safe on your way home.”
“Will do.”
In a better frame of mind, Megan drove off in the direction of the Coleman’s property. The roads were clear as she drove up the steep mountain. Thankfully, there was a guardrail. Still, her worst nightmare would be to find herself in a skid and go over the edge. Many out-of-town visitors would travel this route to Virginia. The curvy two-lane road was deceptively innocuous if you stayed within the speed limit. Unfortunately, less cautious drivers found the low speed limit was there for a reason at a cost.
She almost missed the turnoff for the Coleman’s, but saw it in the nick of time. Megan didn’t know what to expect because she hadn’t been up here since she was a child. At the end of the driveway stood a beautiful older home.
Grabbing her delivery bag, she got out of the car and headed for the front door of the picturesque home.
A loud whistle to the side the house made her turn.
“Over here!”
Spotting Matthew Coleman, Silas’s brother, waving, Megan started walking in his direction, admiring the woodsy property instead of gawking at Matthew’s bare chest.
As she neared the metal building where Matthew was, she nearly dropped the delivery bag when Cole and another Coleman brother strode out to wait for her.
She gathered her composure at the wall of masculinity that would have the Chippendale dancers reaching for their shirts, she said a silent prayer not to make a fool of herself. Racking her brain, she was able to recall Issac’s name.
Silas had six younger brothers and two sisters. One had been killed in an accident with their father. It was one of the saddest memories she could vividly recall—attending Leah’s graveside funeral. Her family had been one of the few to attend the service.
“Good afternoon, Megan,” Issac greeted her.
“Hi, Issac, how are all of you doing?” She became nervous under Cole’s scrutiny.
“Hungry enough to eat Silas’ leftover meatloaf if you didn’t get here so quickly.” He grinned. “Silas is a good cook, but he loves to experiment with his meatloaf recipes.” Issac made a disgusted face. “They’re getting worse instead of better.”
Matthew stepped forward to take the order from her. “You’re welcome to stay and sit a spell.” he offered. “We have plenty of food if you’re hungry.”
“Thanks, but I better head back to town,” she refused.
After thanking her, Matthew and Issac moved toward to a wooden picnic table beside the building they had come out of.
