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Without realizing it, I’d put the other areas of my life on the back burner and been content to wait tables at Henry’s while I waited for my future to come to me.
I’d needed months of thinking and late-night talking with my roomies to figure out a path that spoke to me, but I finally had one, and I wasn’t about to abandon it for a guy.
Even if my attention was one–hundred percent drawn to his strong, long-legged body dressed in jeans, a burgundy tee, and a flannel shirt, I wasn’t interested. I refused to be.
“Hey,” I said warmly, like I did to all my customers.
“Hi, Quincy.” His voice was a low, whiskey-smooth timbre, quieter than usual.
When I glanced at the bundle of cuteness in the car seat, I understood why.
“Nap time for our princess, huh?” As soon as I said it, the unintentional intimacy from calling herourprincess hit me, and I quickly jumped to a more comfortable topic. “What can I get you to drink?”
Without seeming to notice my screwup, he ordered a coffee and a bowl of lager pork chili. I poured his coffee, then went to the kitchen for his chili, which was ready fast since it just had to be served up along with some bread that Kinsey had recently taken out of the oven.
I’m not sure what happened exactly, but somehow when I went to set down his meal, I knocked over his coffee, and it spilled straight into his lap.
I gasped as he pushed his chair back to try to avoid getting hit. He wasn’t quick enough, so I nearly tossed the plate and chili bowl down as I grabbed for a spare napkin at the next table. Except the chili splashed upward and nailed me in the cheek. I tossed the extra napkin at Knox’s lap, somehow keeping my wits about me enough to not go for his crotch myself.
“I’m so sorry,” I said. My face was burning up and not from the hot chili that’d hit it. I scrambled to the next table for more napkins. “Did it burn you?”
“It wasn’t hot enough to burn.” He held the cloth to his thigh to soak up the liquid. “Only a small amount hit me.” He nodded toward the floor, where there was a puddle forming.
The dark liquid continued to drip from the table to the floor, and I tried to reassure myself that most of it was, indeed, on the table instead of Knox.
“I’m really sorry,” I said again as I took one soaked napkin from him and held out a dry one. “I’ll pay for cleaning or new jeans or whatever you want.”
He reached for the napkin and trapped my hand between it and his other hand. “It’s okay, Quincy.” With a squeeze on the back of my hand, he looked up and met my gaze as if to show me he meant it.
I wasn’t convinced. Not even close.
“Sure, sure,” I said, not at all calmly. “It’s fine to have a clumsy server dump hot coffee all over you and burn you and stain your pants and maybe wake up your baby.”
His hands, with the napkin, were still around mine as he glanced toward the car seat, which he’d set on the floor on the other side of him—thank God because if she’d been on this side, I would’ve scalded sweet Juniper with coffee!
“On she sleeps. Everything’s okay. I’m fine,” he reassured.
He squeezed my hand one more time before releasing me, and I couldn’t help noticing how much bigger his hands were than mine.
I blew out my breath and attempted a smile. “Yeah. Okay,” I said, biting down on the urge to apologize again.
Dropping things always flustered me. Spilling on someone did more than fluster. I’d had a lot of practice at recovering though, and I forced myself to take three seconds now, close my eyes, and breathe in deeply. Just enough to get my brain back on the job again.
When I opened my eyes, the chili splatters on the tablecloth caught my attention, and I remembered I must still have a splotch on my face, so I grabbed one of the unused napkins and swiped at my cheek. Sure enough, it came back with a red-orange smear.
Super.
“I’m going to get you a fresh bowl of chili. I’ll be right back.” I picked up the original one and headed to the kitchen, relieved Zinnia was in charge today. Cash wouldn’t usually say anything, but I’d know from his expression he didn’t like yet another Quincy mishap.
I managed to deliver bowl number two and some extra bread to Knox without incident, cleaned the floor, and then I did my best to fade into the background and let him eat in peace.
We were low on rolled silverware, so I worked on those at the bar, making small talk with Dakota as she restocked for dinner service. My mind was split between her chatter and Knox and Juniper, who were out of my sight in the next room. There was no reason for me to feel drawn to them other than I was drawn to every cute baby. It didn’t matter that I’d stayed with them last night. It was just a job. But I couldn’t deny that I had to fight the urge to hover and triple-check whether the baby was awake yet and reassure myself again that Knox wasn’t, in fact, hiding third-degree burns on his lap.
When I had the basket of silverware wrapped and delivered to the host stand, I allowed myself to check on Knox. He was just pushing his bowl back and sticking the last of the bread in his mouth.
“How was everything?” I asked as I sidled up next to him and craned my neck to check on Juniper. She was still asleep, looking like an angel.
“Good as always,” he said, “even with wet pants.”
