Chapter 4 #2
“Tell me about it. My feet are killing me in these stupid shoes.” I tried to do a funny tap-dancing shuffle on the tile floor but winced. “I’m trying to convince GJ to update the uniform.”
Eugene nodded. “There are a few things around here that could use a modern touch.” He pointed the flat spatula at the rectangular window in the kitchen door. “It looks like we’ve got one more.”
Breakfast was technically finished at ten o’clock, but we always stayed open a little longer for stragglers. GJ had a lot of house rules that she didn’t follow, and a strict breakfast cutoff time was one of them.
“Ugh,” I groaned. “I thought that we were going to get out of here before noon today.”
“Not at Christmastime.” Eugene shrugged. “Hey, sell him a Swamp Monster and I’ll polish the silverware for you.”
“Really?” I laughed. “Get your rag ready.”
I grabbed the carafe and strode into the dining room, ready to do my best used car salesman act for the Swamp Monster—until I saw who was standing at the hostess stand. Breakfast had been so busy I’d forgotten all about Nick. So much for getting away without seeing him.
“For one?” I pulled a menu from the hostess stand.
“Not unless your GJ has arranged a breakfast date with Clementine. She told me that her friend was the best skier in town and would teach me how to ski.”
“Get in line, Mr. Tinsel. Clementine is a mini celebrity here and I’m pretty sure her ski card is full for the season.
I’ve been begging her to take me out since I got here.
” I clutched the menu to my chest, suddenly feeling self-conscious about my bodice ripper–style outfit.
I looked like I had just stepped off the cover of one of GJ’s historical romance novels.
Tugging the antique chair out from the table was harder than I’d anticipated with only one hand.
“Let me get that for you,” Nick said. He was wearing a pair of jeans and a red flannel shirt. He looked like he belonged in Chance Rapids; I looked like I belonged in the Swiss Alps, blowing one of those long horns.
I set the menu down and Nick’s eyes went exactly where I thought they would go—right to my chest. But only for a millisecond. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped, and then he glued his blue-eyed gaze to my face.
“Would you like some coffee?” I asked.
“Does a one-legged duck swim tight circles?” He chuckled. “The more caffeine the better.”
“It’s strong, but not quite as strong as Muriel’s.” I winked.
Dimples dented his cheeks, which flushed a shade deeper.
“Muriel’s coffee was so strong it put me right to sleep. I want to be jittering when I walk out of here.” He opened the menu. “I know that you’re closing soon. I’m just looking for a quick breakfast with lots of protein. Can you bring me an order of bacon and eggs, with extra bacon?”
I rested my hand on the finial of one of the antique chairs. “If it’s protein you’re looking for, may I interest you in the Quorkie Swamp Monster?”
His brow arched over one of his eyes. “A what now?”
“Our chef creates a new dish every day. I name them. It’s quail eggs on a Yorkshire pudding with a bearnaise broccoli sauce over beef carpaccio. I can get him to add bacon on the side.”
Nick tilted his head. “Are quail eggs high in protein?”
“Beats me.” I shrugged. “But bacon sure is.”
“It sounds kind of disgusting.”
“It looks pretty gross too.” I chuckled. “But it’s delicious.”
He closed the menu. “You’ve tried this Quorkie Swamp Monster?”
“I had a bite before the breakfast rush.” As if on cue, my stomach let out a grumble that resembled a whale call.
It happened in the space between the ragtime tunes that GJ insisted on playing at breakfast. She said it made people eat faster.
I wasn’t sure that was the goal for a dining room, but I picked my battles with Grandma.
Nick handed me the menu. “I’ll take two of the monsters, but only if you’ll join me and finish your breakfast.”
“I shouldn’t. I have to…” I racked my brain for a good excuse. “Polish cutlery.”
The door to the kitchen swung open. “I’ve got the cutlery. Have a seat and I’ll bring out the Quorkies.” Eugene grinned.
“It looks like you’re off polishing duty.” Nick pushed the opposite chair out with the toe of his hiking boot. It was a slightly bold gesture, and 100 percent hot.
I inhaled. That nosy Eugene must have had his ear pressed to the kitchen door the whole time. “I’ll get the coffee.”
As I turned, the lacy hem of my skirt hooked on the knob of the chair. It took two steps and a rush of cold air for me to realize that I was flashing the entire dining room. Luckily enough there was only one person inside; unluckily enough for me, it was the sexy new hockey star.
“Your…um.” Nick’s voice cracked. “Skirt.”
I tugged at the green fabric, but the pointy bit on the decorative chair had speared the lace. Turning only made it worse, and the tearing sound forced me to freeze. What if the damn thing ripped right off me?
“I’ll get that.” Nick stood.
Mortified, I stayed completely still while Nick extracted the lace from the chair and remained that way until the skirt dropped back to its proper position.
It had been a while since I’d done laundry, and that morning I’d had to dip into the sexy stock that sat untouched at the back of the drawer.
All the comfy cotton undies were buried in a pile of laundry.
We washed all of the linens for the inn in-house, and since I was essentially the housekeeper, waitress, laundry person, and groundskeeper—my own laundry bin got pushed to the back of the line.
“Thanks.” I smoothed the fabric at the back and front of the skirt. “I’ll be back with the coffee.”
I gave the chairs a wide berth. Each one of those antiques was now a potential spear, poised and ready to expose my assets to the world.
“GJ and your damn Heidi Swiss Family Robinson Sound of Music outfit,” I muttered under my breath. But maybe this would work in my favor. Flashing customers would be a great reason to toss the dirndl into a giveaway pile.
With two cups of coffee steaming on the table, I took a seat across from Nick. Again, it was clear that he was making a concerted effort to look me in the eyes. “Cream?” I held up one of the silver cream holders.
He smiled. “No thanks, unless you’ve got one of Muriel’s flasks, I take it black.”
“I could get some whiskey from the bar.” I started to push the chair out.
Nick reached across the table and placed his hand on my wrist. “I was kidding. I’ve got practice this afternoon. I don’t think showing up winter coffee–ized would go over well with the team.”
I dumped a little bit of cream into my coffee. “For a small-town league, they sure take their hockey pretty seriously.”
Nick’s lips narrowed. “A lot of players have come through this league to get to the NHL. Believe it or not, the Chance Rapids Bobcats are a big deal.”
His voice wasn’t as jokey as it had been two seconds earlier.
I had struck a nerve. Hockey was a big deal to a lot of people in this town, and clearly I was sitting across from one of those people.
“I went to games when I was a little kid, but I haven’t been to one since I moved back.
” I focused on the black liquid turning brown as I stirred my coffee.
“You should come and check it out.” He pulled out his phone and scrolled for a second.
“I’ve got the schedule here, we’ve got a three-game series against the Windswan Eagles starting on Wednesday.
Games one and three will be in town here.
” He slipped the phone into the pocket of the puffy North Face jacket that hung on the death spear on his chair.
After being traumatized by that chair, I imagined the wood piercing the coat and feathers filling the dining room.
“What are you smiling about?” He sipped his coffee.
I would’ve told him, but wanted to avoid drawing attention to the unintentional peep show he’d been served with his breakfast. “I know when the games are, it’s all anyone has been able to talk about. Didn’t you see the sign when you got into town?”
“It was dark when I got here.” He set down his mug. “What does the sign say?”
“’Christmas Festival. Parade and Outdoor Game Sunday, December twentieth.’”
“What’s the big deal about that?” He gave a light shrug and took another sip of his coffee, his eyes searching mine.
“There are ten million activities in the Christmas Festival, but all anyone cares about is the parade and the game. The Bobcats’ float is right before Santa’s. I’m pretty sure most of the town over the age of six will be there to get lollipops from the hockey players.”
“Float?” He raised his eyebrows. “Seriously?”
My smile couldn’t be stopped. Nick Tinsel had not done his homework. “They didn’t tell you that you would be in the parade?”
“Fuck.” Nick shook his head. His smile crinkles disappeared and he let out a groan. “No. They definitely did not.”
It seemed like a dramatic response and I didn’t know how to respond. He picked up on my trepidation.
“I’m not a big fan of the holidays.” He gave a meek smile. “I actually hate them.”
It’s the wrong time of year to be in Chance Rapids then, I thought to myself. Nick’s visceral reaction to the parade told me that there was more to the story. I got it, the holidays weren’t for everyone.
Luckily Eugene interrupted and the somber cloud that had settled over the table lifted. “Two Quorkie Swamp Monsters for Table Four.” He set down the plates with a flourish. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, there are some knives that need polishing.” He winked at me.
Was Eugene trying to set me up with Nick? The chef knew that I was single, but he didn’t seem like the matchmaker type. That was more up Muriel or GJ’s lane.
“Wow.” Nick picked up his red linen napkin and draped it over his lap, then seemed to reconsider and tucked it into the collar of his plaid shirt. “It looks…”