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Breely pushed through the swinging door into the kitchen where Stan manned the grill, flipping a row of hamburgers and slapping slices of cheese on them to melt.
She waited until he placed the cheeseburgers on buns, arranged lettuce, tomatoes and pickles around them, then scooped French fries from the warmer and added them to the plates. With quiet efficiency, he placed the plates on the window ledge between the kitchen and dining room and yelled, “Order up!”
Then he turned and opened his arms. “Bring it in.”
Breely stepped into his embrace and was immediately crushed against his barrel chest.
He squeezed so tightly she could barely breathe and didn’t care as tears slipped from her eyes.
Stan had been her boss, mentor and surrogate father for the time she’d managed to live on her own after her great escape from the family ranch.
When he finally let go, he crossed his thick arms over his chest and stared hard into her eyes. “Are you going to be all right?”
She brushed away the tears and nodded. “I’m not coming back,” she said, choking on a sob.
He nodded. “I know, Breely. You’re not safe here.”
She frowned. He’d called her by her real name. “You know?”
“That you’re a helluva a waitress, and we’re going to miss you around here?” He nodded, a smile playing on the corners of his mouth. “Hell, yeah, I know.”
She laughed at the fact he avoided repeating her real name. “How long?”
“Since your father came looking for you the day after I hired you.”
Her heart sank. “He did?”
Stan frowned. “Now, don’t go getting angry. He did what any father would do. He made sure his little girl was all right.”
“And I wanted to make it on my own.” She shook her head. “So, this was all a joke between you and him?”
Stan raised a thick brow. “Did standing on your feet for eight to ten hours a day feel like a joke?”
Breely shook her head, the memories of how badly her feet had ached coming back to haunt her. “Did he pay you to hire me?”
“Honey, that was all me. I told you…he showed up the day after I hired you. He wanted to make sure I wasn’t some sleazy geezer who’d trap you in the refrigerator and harass you.”
Her cheeks burned. “You’re kidding. What did you tell him?”
“That I love my wife, and no other woman on earth can hold a candle to her.” He grinned. “I also said that she’d use my favorite butcher knife on my balls if I even thought about someone else. I kind of like my balls where they are.”
“I can’t believe he did that,” Breely said. “I can’t believe you didn’t say anything.”
“Why would I?” Stan tipped his head toward the dining room. “I hired a waitress. I don’t care if she’s a princess or a bag lady as long as she doesn’t smell bad and can do the job.” Stan leaned toward Breely. “You never smelled bad, and you caught on quickly. That’s all I asked. Did I treat you any differently than the other waitresses?”
Breely’s lips twisted. “No.”
“Damn right, I didn’t. I yelled at you just like I yelled at the others. I don’t have the time or energy to play favorites. Either you work out, or you’re gone.” He shrugged. “You worked out. And we’ll miss you.”
Breely hugged the man again, her eyes misting all over again. “Thank you, Stan. You’re a good man.”
“Yeah. Whatever.” His eyes were suspiciously shiny. “Don’t forget where we are. I could always use a backup when someone doesn’t show up for her shift.”
“I love you, too, Stan.” Breely left the kitchen before she broke down and bawled like a baby.
Moe followed her through the dining room and out into the parking lot. He didn’t say anything, just held her door for her, waited until she was settled in the passenger seat and then closed it.
He hurried around the car, slid behind the steering wheel and drove to the airport without uttering a word.
