Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 70368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
“Excellent.” I clapped him on the shoulder, the same as I might Gabe. But Zeb’s shoulder felt nothing like Gabe’s slim frame. Where Gabe was tall, thin to the point of scrawny from all the worrying and forgetting to eat he did, and clean-shaven, Zeb was sturdy. A sparkplug, my Uncle Joe would have called him. And Zeb smelled good, like cinnamon cookies. Couldn’t say I’d ever noticed Gabe’s scent before. Before I could move my hand, my palm went warm and itchy, a weird sort of energy arcing between us. “That’s the spirit.”
The holiday spirit wasn’t something I’d ever thought much about, but if I was stuck in town, working at Seasons this winter, I supposed I better learn quickly.
Three
ZEB
No more disasters. It had been my mantra all day. After all, it would take a pretty big calamity to top covering my brother’s best friend, the guy I’d had a crush on for a decade now, in cranberry sauce. Atlas waving away my attempt at an apology and all but patting my head and calling me kid again was the garnish on top. I’d like to think we bonded over rearranging Gabe’s careful seating chart, but in reality, Atlas was likely only being nice.
Yet another nice, super hot, super unattainable crush to add to my collection. Living in the sticks meant more than the grocery stores closing early. There were slim pickings for a nerdy gay guy with little interest in apps.
Oh well. At least Atlas was likely here for a solid month. Maybe I’d get another shot at impressing him. And if nothing else, at least I got to watch him work. He’d spent most of the evening behind the bar, handling drinks with the efficiency of a longtime server. Apparently, SEALs and those who worked with them truly were good at everything.
“After-dinner coffee or tea?” I asked one of the last tables. Most of our patrons had already headed off into the chilly November night. Many of our guests were families who made letting Seasons cook an annual tradition, grandparents and sleepy kids included, and they tended to make an early night of it. But groups of Friendsgiving adults like this chatty group of widows were likely to linger. And linger. “Something before you hit the road?”
I tried hard not to show my exhaustion, keeping my tone chipper and smile bright, but Gabe still frowned from across the room.
“Or more pie.” Laughing, all four older ladies at the table made their way back to the buffet. And to my credit, I didn’t so much as groan as I refilled their water glasses and braced for yet more waiting until we could clear the last of the food.
“Zeb.” Gabe hurried over, dropping his voice to a stern whisper. “Quit trying to hurry people out the door.”
“Lighten up, boss. And hydrate with something other than black coffee.” Handing Gabe a glass of water, Atlas got away with the sort of teasing I never could. “And we’re slow enough that you should go sit with your lovely wife and mother-in-law.” He gestured at the small table by one of the windows where Paige and her mother, Aunt Lucy, sat. Technically, Aunt Lucy was only Atlas’s biological aunt, but as a former elementary teacher, she seemed to be an honorary aunt to half the town, me included. Once upon a time, our joint families had required one of our largest tables, but we seemed to keep shrinking. Yet another reason the twins would be a very welcome addition. Atlas deftly maneuvered Gabe closer to the dessert table. “Eat some pie yourself.”
“Thank you, Atlas,” Paige chirped brightly as we neared their table. “So glad you’re here to boss Gabe around. He won’t listen to any of us.”
“I’ll make sure you both rest.” When a dazed Gabe simply stood in front of the selection of pies, Atlas plucked up a piece of our famous pumpkin pie and steered Gabe into the empty chair next to Paige.
“Your brother is an ulcer waiting to happen,” Atlas said as we left the others to their desserts. He strode back to the bar, and after a quick glance to make sure the Friendsgiving group didn’t need me, I followed. “I’ve never seen Gabe so uptight.”
“I know.” Groaning, I started organizing newly washed glassware that one of the teen bussers had returned from the dishwasher. “And he’s not usually this bad. Paige’s pregnancy has him on edge, and business was down all summer. Fewer weddings and fewer fall parties, so we really need a successful holiday run.”
“That’s why I’m here to help.”
“Thanks.” I had no idea why Atlas’s affable statement made my back tense. Perhaps because he so easily accomplished what I couldn’t, joking around with Gabe and caretaking for him to boot. I should be glad at least someone got Gabe to take care of himself more. “You’re off to a great start. Fantastic rescue with the cranberry sauce.”