That Summer Festival (Holiday Mode #2)

Chapter 1

Emma Tremaine

Dad’s Place

Astoria, Oregon

“I need you to work this weekend.”

“I’m off this weekend, remember?” I laughed incredulously. “I asked for it off months ago.”

My stepmother gave me her trademark condescending look that had haunted my dreams since high school. “You know what a big weekend this is for my business, Emma. And we can’t operate without a waitress.”

“What about Amelia? Or Daphne?” They were both disasters as waitresses, but a warm body was better than nobody.

Lydia raised her eyebrows. “My girls don’t work here. You know that.”

Which was code for: couldn’t be asked to sully their hands with common work.

Unlike me.

But this time, I was going to push back. I was sick of being her whipping girl. Sick of shouldering so much of the load and the grunt-work of the business—a business I didn’t have even partial ownership of, which we all knew I was owed.

“I can’t.” I pushed past her to hang my ticket in the passthrough to the kitchen.

Unfortunately, Lydia followed me and hovered so close that her signature scent warred with the maple syrup on the warmer under the window.

I swallowed thickly and willed my queasy stomach to settle.

“I bought my tickets months ago. Gwen and I are going to the music festival.”

“The Oceanfront Music Festival is exactly the reason you have to be here. It’s our biggest weekend of the year. Gwen is on the schedule for tomorrow, and you are too, now. End of discussion.”

“But—”

“What would your father think, Emma?” Lydia bent toward me until I was enveloped by her cloying scent and her breath puffed against my cheek.

She lowered her voice to a menacing hiss.

“If he knew that you thought the only thing keeping a roof over our heads, the only thing putting food in our bellies, was so beneath you? What would he think of you throwing off your obligations to go to that summer festival ? He’d be so disappointed.

He’d be ashamed of you and your priorities. ”

All the blood in my body froze. I couldn’t breathe, let alone think.

I missed my dad so much. It’d become this permanent ache in my chest this last year. He was gone, and I was left was this permanent sore spot that screamed at me that nothing was going to be the same ever again.

Lydia straightened as a satisfied little smirk curved her lips. “And don’t think I’m going to forget this the next time you try to call in. I know exactly the kind of person you are. We both do now.”

I could only watch in suspended disbelief as the only mother figure I’d ever had gave me another sneer and then stomped down the hall to the tiny office in the back.

I jumped as the door slammed shut.

I muffled my groan and rubbed at my stinging eyes. That had been a hell of a lot of drama for six o’clock on a Thursday morning.

I should’ve known the second I saw her car pull into the parking lot. Lydia never came to work before noon on a good today. On great days, she didn’t come in at all.

Clearly, today was neither of those.

“You’re not going to let her kill your plans, are you?” Gwen, my favorite cook and pseudo-grandmother, asked through the passthrough, a spatula in her right hand, her baby blue apron already streaked with grease.

“Gwen…” I sighed. I was too ashamed to say the words out loud.

So, she said them for me. “You are.” She shook her head sadly. “You gotta start living, kiddo. It’s what your father wanted for you. It’s why he left the restaurant to that…” She grunted, because even though Gwen hated Lydia, she also couldn’t say raunchy words out loud.

I would’ve laughed, if it all wasn’t so freaking sad. “It is what it is, Gwen. No point in railing against my fate now.”

“You say that like you’re not a young girl in your twenties. You have your whole life in front of you! Go out and live it! Get the fuck outta this backwater town.”

“Gwen!” I stared at her gob smacked. She didn’t cuss. Ever . “I can’t believe you said that.”

“What? It’s true. You know what I think?

I think your father would be disappointed to find out you’re still living here a year after he’d passed.

He didn’t want this life for you. He wanted you to find your own dreams. He wanted you to live for yourself.

He’d be disappointed at how sad you are—that’s why I agreed to go with you to the festival in the first place.

I wanted to push you out of the nest. It’s no skin off my nose to miss it, but I don’t want you to stay and stagnate here. You need to go out to live, kiddo.”

I sighed. “The hashbrowns are burning.”

“Dang it.” Gwen whipped around and shoveled her spatula against the flattop.

I turned away from the passthrough and worked on the drinks for the two-top. Neither man had wanted coffee, oddly enough. One hot tea, two large ice waters, and a side of lemon slices. I loaded the drinks onto a tray and headed for the sole occupied table in my dead dad’s diner.

My smile felt unsteady as I rested the tray against the edge of the table. “One hot tea and two ice waters. I brought some honey if you’d like that for the tea. Your order should be up in a few.”

I turned to leave when he grabbed my hand.

Him .

The guy sitting with his back to the restaurant, wearing sunglasses despite the fact that it was six o’clock in the morning in Oregon. Sun wasn’t generally a concern so early in the morning here. And definitely not indoors.

Despite his sunglasses and don’t screw with me attitude, I hadn’t been able to take my eyes off of him.

His hat and sunglasses hadn’t been able to obscure how gorgeous he was.

The dark stubble on his face, the corded muscles in his neck and arms, the swarthy glow of his skin.

This was a man who spent a lot of time outdoors.

Probably working with his hands. I’d bet he had callouses on his—

“Miss?”

I blinked back into the present and realized while I’d been cataloguing everything I found attractive about him, he’d been trying to ask me a question. “Uh, sorry. I didn’t catch that.”

His plump lips curved into a smug little smile. “Can we get some straws for the waters?”

“Oh. Yeah. Of course.” I pulled a few straws from my half apron and dropped them on the table. “Sorry about that.”

His lips quirked for a second, and I wished like hell that I could see what color his eyes were. Velvety brown? Hazel with a starburst of color? Deep blue?

A bell rang in the distance, signaling that their food was ready.

Their food!

I flinched and realized that my mystery man was still holding my hand. “Um, I’m gonna need that back if you want me to grab your breakfasts.”

He tilted his head. “In a minute. You going to The Oceanfront Music Festival?”

Oh god. He no doubt heard that whole exchange with Lydia. How mortifying. I pulled my hand away. “Not anymore. I’m just gonna go grab…”

I turned and all but ran away from the table.

Standing in front of the passthrough, I loaded up my tray again. Chicken-fried steak, eggs, and biscuits and gravy. Egg-white spinach omelet with avocado toast and oatmeal. So much food for two people.

“Everything okay, kiddo?” Gwen asked with a frown.

I loaded extra napkins on my tray and gave her what I hoped passed for a smile. “Yup.”

“’Kay. Just yell if they get out of hand”—she whipped her spatula through the air—“and I’ll come running.”

My cheeks heated with the knowledge that she’d seen that. And had probably seen me staring at the guy. No way was I explaining to my sixty-eight-year-old godmother that it was because the guy was that hot.

Nope. Not doing that.

I headed back to the table with my tray.

“Chicken-fried steak and eggs.” I laid the plate in front of the massive man facing the room with his back to the wall, his muscles bulging as he uncrossed his arms. “And biscuits and gravy. Egg-white omelet, avocado toast, and oatmeal. Are you sure you don’t want any fruit with that?

” I asked the question out of habit, then winced.

This was supposed to be a dump and run mission.

I shouldn’t be lingering. I didn’t want to look like an even bigger goober than I already did.

“Are you really not going to the music festival?”

I shook my head. What was this guy’s obsession with me going? “Looks like I’m not. If you guys don’t need anything else…”

“There’s no act you’re looking forward to seeing? Out of that whole lineup? Over two whole days?”

“I didn’t say that. I said I’m not going.”

“But who do you want to see?”

“It doesn’t matter, because I’m not going.”

“But—”

“Leave the poor girl alone, B.” The voice rumbled from the other side of the table. “And eat your damn food.”

B turned to his friend. I took advantage of the moment and got the hell out of there.

“Emma!” Lydia hollered just when I thought I was in the clear.

I turned and watched her stomp down the center aisle of the diner. My dread grew with every step. Her hands were full of paperwork from the office.

“Don’t forget about this weekend. The girls and I will be out of cell range until Sunday. Do not make me regret putting you in charge this weekend.”

Then she turned and slammed through the door, narrowly missing a few of our regulars on their way in.

“Hey Bob, Hunter.” I called, my nerves evident in my tone. “The usual?”

They grunted and slid onto stools at the bar. I turned away and scribbled their order onto my pad, passed the paper to Gwen who gave me that look , and then turned back with the coffeepot in hand.

I filled up their mugs and turned to check on the back table when something occurred to me. “Hey Hunter?”

He grunted in reply.

“Is your wife still a big fan of the Tin Gods?”

He rolled his eyes. “I love the woman, but if I have to hear about how hot their lead singer is one more time…”

I smiled as I pulled out my phone. “What’s your email address?”

“What? Why?”

“Just tell me. Email address?”