Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 49348 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 247(@200wpm)___ 197(@250wpm)___ 164(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49348 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 247(@200wpm)___ 197(@250wpm)___ 164(@300wpm)
“No way. I’ll just see myself out. You don’t know me, and you’ve never met me. Bye now.” I spin around. My back is facing Bernie and Gabe, hands covering my face while I worry that I made the biggest fool out of myself.
“Considering Mr. Bernie and his grandson are sitting in your section, waiting on you, judging by the way the older McCoy is tapping his fingers, I’d say your time for running has long since passed.” Olive delivers the news like a final blow in Mortal Kombat. Great, now I’m going to have the visual and how the cartoon says it in my head all day. I can do this. I’ve been in worse situations and came up swinging. However, this situation doesn’t need me to keep my head down and blend in. This time I’m safe. I can lift my head and allow myself to be brave.
“I can do this,” I mutter under my breath, turn back around, plaster a smile on my face, and look at my section, where Mr. Bernie nods his head in good morning. I smile in response, then wipe my hands on the front of my apron, trying to settle my nerves. It’s when I go to grab two mugs that I notice my hands are shaking. How in the hell am I going to make it through the next hour, and I haven’t even interacted with Gabe McCoy. It’s now or never. Unlike living in Virginia, here in Plaine Hill everyone knows the new girl in town. One hand is holding two coffee mugs by their handle, and since my hands are no longer visibly shaking, I grab the pot of coffee and set off to fake it till I make it. I fill up a few customers’ cups along the way. My face may show a happy and smiling Carsynn Nichols, but on the inside I’m a damn mess.
“Hey, Mr. Bernie,” I greet my friend. “Hi, Gabe, it’s nice to meet you.” I set the mugs down, already knowing that Bernie will want his daily cup of joe, no cream or sugar. He said coffee is enough to destroy his body; he didn’t need to add anything else to the mix.
“He-ya, sweet pea. You’re right on time. This guy made me wait on the porch for ten minutes this morning. An old man like me could get frostbite, you know?” I pour his cup of coffee while shaking my head and chuckling lightly at his antics.
“You coulda stayed your tail inside the house, too.” Pause, then, “It’s nice to meet you as well, Carsynn.” I look up from pouring his coffee after finishing Bernie’s and am caught in the gaze of gray eyes. Stormy, turbulent, and so all-consuming that I’m sucked into their vortex. It seems everything about Gabe McCoy is unique. I’m going to have a hard time not picking apart every difference between him and Bernie.
“Anytime. Your grandpa is a hoot and a great friend.” I manage to move my focus off Gabe to ask Bernie, “You want the usual?”
“You know it. Is Denny working you too much? I know the owner.” My eyebrows furrow, wondering why he’d bring something like that up.
“You look a little flush. I know you’ve been working a lot. I don’t want you getting sick.” If only he knew the reason why my cheeks are tinged with color.
“I’m good, probably just warm from running around all morning.” Shew, I pulled that lie out of my ass without a stutter. I’m not sure who this woman I’m becoming is, but damn, do I like her.
“Gramps, let her be,” Gabe interjects.
“Oh hush, I can worry about whoever the heck I want.” Bernie’s word must be law because Gabe sits there quietly while taking a sip of his coffee.
“I’m alright, promise. Denny and Nikki would send me home if I weren’t.” Now that my hands aren’t full, I’m able to reach my hand out to Bernie’s and squeeze it gently with mine.
“That’s good,” Bernie replies, and I pull back, digging into my apron for my pad of paper in case Gabe’s order is too much to remember.
“What can I get for you?” I can feel the heat of Gabe’s gaze branding my body, which makes me wonder what he sees. I’m not dressed in anything special, a black shirt with the diner’s name in yellow print and a pair of jeans I’ve had for far too long. The knees have holes in them; and not in the trendy sort of way, but in the way I’ve refused to buy anything new unless it’s an absolute necessity. My sneakers are dirty from lots of grime. Even my hair is up in a ponytail, and I don’t have a lick of makeup, not that I’d allow myself to pick up anything extra right now. I’m still too busy trying to pad my savings account and worry that I’ll never be able to get ahead. The need to live debt-free and not paycheck to paycheck comes from my childhood trauma. I also know one day, I’m going to have to figure out a long-term plan. Being a waitress is an honest job, but a career it won’t be, not in the forever kind of way.