Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 128430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
I probably shouldn’t be going out in my condition. I’m feeling better, but I can still feel a tightness in my chest. I eat the yogurt for energy while I get dressed.
Grabbing my scarf as the last article of clothing, I wrap it around my neck and then slip on my tall rain boots. Just outside my door, I spot my suede ankle boots—the leather is hard and ruined. Maybe I can salvage them, but I’ll have to deal with those later. I lock my door and tuck my hands in my pockets.
It’s in the forties today, so not too cold, but it’s kind of eerie with streams of debris and dirt filling the streets. Trash is speckled across the usually clean streets under overcast skies.
Dread fills every step I take to the shop, but as soon as I get there, the smell of muffins and coffee fills me with premature relief, and my stomach growls. Guess I’ve gotten a little of my appetite back. I can’t let the comforting scents fool me. I’m about to be fired for a hefty shortchange. I don’t have the wherewithal to even fight back right now.
“Story?” Lila waves me to the back.
I push through the door. “What’s wrong?”
Lila’s taller than me by only a few inches, but it feels like a mountain staring down at me in this situation. She leans against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest. Her brown hair catches in the crossing. She never wears much makeup, no more than a little mascara and maybe lipstick, but today, her face is bare. She probably had a rough time getting out the door with her young son, Jake. That’s what she tells me when she has less time to get ready. “Why didn’t you tell me about last night?”
“Umm . . .” I look around for a saving grace but don’t spot anything but a bag of flour I forgot to put up and a stack of dishes next to the sink. “I’m sorry. It all happened so fast.” Her brow crinkles, so I start to ramble, “The storm hit, and we were fine until we lost power, but then I couldn’t just kick people out when the street was flooding, so I let them stay, and most didn’t have money.” I shrug. “Who carries cash these days anyway?”
“One thousand dollars, Story? That’s crazy money.”
“I know. I’m so sorry. The electricity went out, and people bailed before I could collect the tabs.”
She narrows her eyes in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“Last night.” Taking a step back, I feel my ass run into the metal counter, so I take hold, my grip firm against the rounded steel. “What are you talking about?”
“Last night. Your tip.”
“My tip?” My eyes jerk back. “I didn’t have any tips once the storm hit, and really, I only had about ten dollars prior because again, most people don’t carry cash. They just leave it on the receipt.”
She holds up a credit card receipt. “What’s this?”
I lean in and squint because nothing on the piece of paper is making sense. “I don’t know,” I reply, leaning back on my heels again. “What is that?”
A huge smile splits her lips. “It’s your tip, Story.” Tapping the paper, she adds, “Someone left you a one-thousand-dollar tip.”
“Huh?” I snatch the receipt from her and study the numbers, looking for errors in the zeros or a misplaced period. “This doesn’t make sense, Lila.”
“Well, I’m not going to argue with you. Not only did this person pay for everything last night that you marked down on the notepad that wasn’t paid for but they also overpaid by four hundred dollars. On top of that, they matched it in a tip for you. A thousand dollars, Story. That is huge money. I can’t say I’m not jealous. I’m so freaking jealous. Think of what you can do with all that money.” She nudges me as she walks by. “You must have given some damn good service last night.”
“Very funny.”
“I’m serious. You showed that sweet smile to the right guy.” She backs through the door, still grinning. “I’m going to need details about this C. Haywood.”
I snatch the receipt and scan down to the signature. “C. Haywood?” Cooper.
Cooper Haywood. Besides this absurd amount of money that’s fallen into my lap, Cooper’s last name comes back like a faded dream. He’s slippery every time I mention it, and now, I can’t get the thought that my major in business administration is based in Haywood Hall. Coincidence?
Holding onto the receipt, I follow her into the main dining area, but stop when I see the devil himself standing at the counter. Cooper looks up and gives me a small wave. “Hey, Story.”
“Coop—” My ass is spanked by the door as it slams into me, forcing my body to fly forward and stumble toward him. “Ack!” Arms solid in their strength catch me before I fall flat on my face. I struggle to get a hold of him, but when I do, I’m righted to my feet again. “Thanks,” I say breathlessly and start adjusting my coat back into place.