Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 148704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 744(@200wpm)___ 595(@250wpm)___ 496(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 744(@200wpm)___ 595(@250wpm)___ 496(@300wpm)
She smiles sweetly, nods agreeably, and seems to know what everyone needs before they have a chance to ask for it.
She’s the picture-perfect employee from where I’m sitting, and in the fifty-something minutes I’ve been here, I got what I needed.
Tossing a ten on the table for taking up the space, I nod at the redheaded woman who brought me a water and drop into the booth just wiped down in Davis’s section.
She’s back to making her rounds this way in seconds and stops beside the table I now am at a minute later. Order slip in hand with the pen pressed to it, she smiles at the thing.
“Thanks for waiting. Can I get you something to drink? A soda or maybe a shake?”
“Which is your favorite?”
“Oh, I love the—” She looks at me, mentally trained to look away so fast, she has to do a double take. “Oh shit.”
Her eyes widen, and she peeks around her.
I bite back a grin. “It’s safe to say no one heard.”
“Uh-huh. Where’ve you been?”
I raise a single brow. “Been waiting on me, or what?”
“Obviously.” She juts a hip out, creating an even deeper curve at her middle. “Do you really think I’m the type of person who, in the middle of something as we are in the middle of, would simply not obsess over every little thing, every single day?”
“I’m a little surprised you just threw that out there.”
“Are you?” She’s full of sass and sarcasm. It’s cute on her. “Because you’ve known me since forever, so I feel like you should’ve expected this.”
I did, but I’m not about to tell her that. “You could’ve called.”
The girl gapes at me and leans her hip the opposite way. “Do you not understand what happens when someone obsesses over something? You know what, never mind.” She eyes me, and it’s clear she wants to say something but decides against it. She presses that pen back on that little paper and arches a brow. “What can I get for you, kind sir?”
Leaning forward, I tug on the edge of her apron playfully. “You’re about to take the dude with the hat a basket of fries, right?”
A small scowl covers her face, but she nods.
“Don’t take the ketchup.”
“Why?” Her head pulls back slightly. “If I don’t take it over with the basket, I’m going to end up making two trips.”
“Take him the basket, set it down in front of him, and look him in the eye when you ask if there’s anything else he needs.”
Davis blinks at me, completely lost. “But I already know what he needs because he asked for ketchup on his burger. Logic says he’ll then want it for his fries.”
“I have watched you for the last hour, Baby Franco, and you had no idea because your little eyes never wander around this damn place, so you have no idea who is looking at you and when.” Opening my fist without taking it off the table, I point toward the ball cap dude. “That guy? He’s turned his head your way more than once. It has nothing to do with waiting for a refill or to order or anything else I’m sure you’re lining up in your head right now to throw back at me because you’re so damn prone to arguing.”
“I am not prone to arguing!” she hiss-whispers. “I happen to think full circle, which means every possible scenario pops into my head and I play the process of elimination game to get them out.”
“You’re arguing about arguing instead of listening to what I’m telling you. Quiet, and listen. Walk over there, do what you gotta do, and look him in the eye when you do it.”
I pull my phone out, aimlessly scrolling through it to get her to walk away, and she does, but I don’t miss the slight shake of her wrist or the tight press of her lips as she makes her way back to the jockstrap at table four.
It’s hard not to laugh when her chest rises with a deep breath as she leans forward a bit to set the fries down, but she doesn’t have time to straighten her spine before the guy’s eyes pop up to meet hers. She didn’t even have to wait.
I can’t hear from here, but he nods, she smiles, and the conversation is taking a little longer than asking for fucking ketchup.
I stare, and finally, she goes to walk away but stutter-steps twice, and I rub my hand over my mouth to hide my smile.
Condiments in one hand, straw in the other, she sneaks a small glance in my direction as she quickly sets both down in front of him. She doesn’t look him in the eye this time, and within seconds, she’s sliding into the seat across from me.
Her mouth forms an O but it takes her a good second to push the words out. “What just happened?”