Chapter 8
Biology Class
Day 9
“What are your plans after graduation?” I asked Dax, trying hard to be so pleasant and friendly that he wouldn’t overthink the fact that he was the one holding the scalpel.
“Not much.”
“What does that mean?”
He leaned forward to stare into the rodent’s underbelly. “Get over here, you gotta see this.”
I leaned forward, plugging my nose with two fingers and keeping my eyes closed firmly. “What is it?”
He laughed lowly, a deep, breathy sound that sent a small ray of light into my belly. It always happened like that when he laughed. Though I hated my reaction to it, there I was, trying not to smile.
“Open your eyes, or I’ll bring him to meet you.”
I jerked back, eyes open and fully aware of the grin on his face before it disappeared.
“If you’re not careful, I’ll tell everyone exactly how many teeth you have,” I said.
His brow furrowed. “You’ve counted my teeth?”
“No. It just means that I’ve seen your smile and probably nobody else ever has. ”
“Why didn’t you just say that, then? Why be the creepy teeth girl?”
Blushing hotly, I smacked him across the stomach, annoyingly elated when he laughed again.
T-minus 49 days to exit
Dax hours remaining: 195
For the most part, waitressing felt like riding a bike—same old drill, getting coffee, taking orders, and giving the cook a hard time. It was fun seeing my old friend, Marco. He’d been the head cook at Sunrise Cafe for as long as I could remember, and during peak tourist season, he was the reason we had lines out the door. My new manager, Jean, seemed nice enough. It did take me some time to get back into the groove of customer service, but navigating the rush of the breakfast crowds, endless dietary restrictions, and strange food orders was preferable to getting teased mercilessly about my sentencing from all the old cafe regulars.
Despite the senator’s best efforts, the entire town knew every detail of the crash. The first few days with my apron strings tied went something like this:
“I heard you were back in town, Ivy.” Then another patron replied, “Everybody heard that. The shatter of glass woke my dog up, and he wouldn’t stop barking all night.”
“What did your dad think about your DUI?” That one was from Larry.
Or my personal favorite, when a particularly rowdy group began banging their hands on their tables, demanding, “Justice for the Lego car!”
But the real kicker was when a sweet little old lady with big eyes and thick glasses, who had been a community staple my entire life, asked in her crackly voice, “Are you sure the judge was in his right mind making you work with that dark- haired, tattooed boy at a time like this? You, of all people, getting a DUI? I don’t think he’s the right influence for you, dearie.”
All of this I bore with a smile and a laugh.
And then, the inevitable happened.
On my fifth day working the early shift at the cafe, at precisely ten in the morning, Dax Miller walked into the restaurant and sat down at a table near the door. He looked casual in a dirty, white t-shirt and tousled hair. Maybe a smudge of grease on one cheek, but really, who was looking that close?
Though I could feel the heat from his gaze following me, I ignored him. I wasn’t his waitress. He was in Sorel’s section, a young girl with red hair and cheeks full of freckles, who was about to be a senior in high school.
Over the past few days of working for him, Dax had made me clean his bathroom, sweep his floors, and call customers before sending me into the Lego torture chamber by myself each night. I knew it was all part of my sentence, but I was off his clock at the moment. He was in my house now.
So, I proceeded to chat with my tables, perhaps laughing a little too loudly at jokes while taking credit cards before hiding in the kitchen and helping Marco plate food.
Ignoring him like a boss.
I was leaning against the counter in the middle of a riveting discussion with Marco about the best way to cook a hamburger when Sorel came to find me.
“There’s a guy here who wants his coffee from you.”
“What?”
“The hot mechanic guy. He wants a cup of coffee, but he says he wants it mediocre, and you’re the only one who can do that.” She made a face, looking slightly horrified before adding, “He told me to say that word for word.”
Marco started laughing until I hit him in the arm and turned back to Sorel. “Tell him I’m not his waitress, so I can’t do it. ”
“I did. But he insisted, and Jean told me to come and get you.”
“Go on,” Marco said, motioning me toward the door. “Give that hot mechanic what he wants.”
I groaned loudly before stalking out of the kitchen and grabbing the pot of coffee. I walked toward Dax, who was awaiting my presence with growing eagerness.
Without a word, I stared him down while filling his mug before stepping back to watch him take his first sip. Streaks of a cozy yellow light filtering in through the windows made the scene look like Dax was some tortured artist taking a drink of his coffee. It wasn’t attractive. He has too many plans to annoy me for him to be attractive. The second I realized I was twirling a runaway strand of curly hair spilling out of my loose bun, I stopped immediately.
He let out a big sigh and set his mug down with a satisfied clink. “That’s the stuff I’ve been missing. Perfectly average.”
“It’s very rude for me to take over someone else’s table, so next time you come in, you get who you get.”
“They don’t do it right.”
I leaned closer, setting my hand on his table. “I grabbed the coffee pot and dumped it directly into your cup. I promise, any one of us can do it exactly the same.”
“It just hits different coming from you.” He leaned back in his seat. “Speaking of…I’d like to order some food.”
“I’ll go get Sorel.”
“Can’t I just tell you real quick?”
“I’m not your waitress.”
“I’m sure you know what to do with my order, though, right?” His face shined with barely bridled delight.
I took a step closer to him, lowering my voice so the other decent human patrons of the cafe wouldn’t hear me. “You want me touching your food? ”
“No.” He shook his head emphatically. “I want Marco touching my food. I want you to bring it to me.”
“Okay, but it sure would be a shame to have one of my long hairs you used to find so annoying end up on your plate.” I smiled sweetly at him. His eyes drifted upward as he considered my wayward curls.
“Eh, I’m willing to risk it.”
I sidled up to him. “Good to know. What can I get for you then? Gator and eggs?”
“I’ve got a busy day, so I’d like you to keep the coffee coming. Just you, though. And I’d like some bacon, scrambled eggs, and hash browns.”
“Great,” I said. I couldn’t blame him for his order. The cafe was famous for its all-day breakfast as well as its selection of homemade syrups.
Before I could turn and leave, he added, “Oh, and could you put a little cheese on top of those eggs?”
“Sure.” I made to turn around, but his voice stopped me—again.
“And can I get some toast?”
Slight pause while I inhaled a deep breath. “Yeah.”
He waited two beats before adding, “Are you going to ask me what kind?”
Dax had a death wish. So it was strange the way my body went into a chokehold to hide the smile suddenly wanting to escape my lips. If I broke, that meant he won, and I couldn’t allow that.
With the fakest of fake smiles on my face, I asked pleasantly, “What kind would you like?”
“White. Light on the butter.”
“Light on butter,” I repeated softly, pretending to write on an imaginary pad of paper.
His face cracked as a smile broke, and for a second, I could only stare at him, helpless as the lines on his face morphed into something…kind of sweet when he looked at me.
I refrained from adding any hair to his food—but just barely. I was still new at this job, and I didn’t want it to get back to the judge that my behavior was a problem. My behavior was never the problem. That was what hurt so badly about this arrangement. Even though I wasn’t going to add it to his food, I very much enjoyed the idea that he might not know that.
With a grand flourish, I set his breakfast before him on the table.
“I hope you enjoy all the parts of your food.”
A satisfied feeling settled over me as I watched him double-check his plate before taking the first bite.
Once Dax left, the cafe became much more relaxed. Near the end of my shift, Cat, Jane, and another friend, Holland, came in and sat at one of my tables in the back. My friends were each striking beauties. So much so that if I hadn’t had a lifetime of memories with two of them, I would have probably felt self-conscious in their presence.
“Hey, girls,“ I said, glancing around the cafe to make sure it was slow enough before I nudged Cat over and sat down next to her.
“Busy today?” Jane asked, flipping her long brown hair over her shoulder. She wore the same floral dress she had lent me for my court date. It did look better on her. She was pure sunshine and the corals and sunset yellows from the dress amplified that fact.
“It was. I’m glad you guys came after the rush so I could chat.”
“Can you take a break after you put in an order for us?” Cat grinned over at me, her blonde hair tied up with a ribbon. I groaned good-naturedly but stood up. “Cheeseburger?” I confirmed .
“Yup,” Cat said, “and tell Marco not to skimp on the fries this time.”
“Same for me,” Jane said.
“Pancakes for me, “ Holland supplied with a smile across her heart shaped face. Holland was an island transplant after I’d left. She had grown close to Cat in my absence and though I’d only met her a handful of times, she was funny and insightful and seemed to fit in but not completely take my place with my friends, which I appreciated.
I put their orders in, along with a cheeseburger and side salad for me, before telling Jean I was officially taking my lunch break. She waved me off, and I moved to sit back down with the girls.
Cat was eyeing me with interest. “How are things with Dax?”
I snorted, playing with the sugar packets on the table. “He was here earlier for the sole purpose of making me serve him food, if that tells you anything.”
My two friends shared a look. “I think that tells us a lot, actually,” Jane said, smiling before taking a sip of the water I’d brought her.
“I’ve never seen him in here before,” Cat said, folding her arms on the table.
“And she would know.” Jane smirked, while Cat kicked her under the table.
“If I don’t murder him before the summer is over, he should consider himself lucky,” I said.
“He’s been a saint for a long time.” Cat quipped, grinning at me. “I’d hate for you to be a bad influence on him.”
I threw a packet at her face while she laughed.
“How is it there? Do you guys talk a lot?” Holland asked, running a hand through her blonde hair.
“I don’t see him much, to be honest. After he makes me sweep his floor or clean his bathroom, I go to work in the lobby, and he’s in his garage. It’s usually just me and Sunny Palmer’s audiobooks keeping me company.”
To be honest, I had a hard time concentrating on the books while I was there. I loved Sunny’s romances, but then I’d hear a tool fall to the ground one wall over, and my mind would…wander.
“If you hate the Legos, I say you just force Dax to let you help him,” Jane said, a smile curling her lips. “Can you imagine, you and Dax underneath a golf cart, changing the oil.”
“Pretty sure that’s not where you change the oil,” I said, blowing the wrapper of a straw onto her face.
“Yes,” Cat added, leaning forward excitedly. “You and Dax underneath the golf cart, fixing…something…on one of those roller scooter things. Every time you go to move or hand him a tool, you keep running into his muscles.”
Despite myself, I laughed and kicked her under the table.
“Okay, subject change,” Jane said, probably eyeing my heated cheeks. “Jean told me she was going to put you in charge of the farmers market booth for the cafe, the week after the Fourth of July. Is that still okay? Can I put your name down?”
Jane worked in the mayor’s office on the island and was over most of the town events.
“Yeah. That should work,” I said.
“It’s pretty easy. Jean usually bakes up some pies and breads to sell. You just sit there and look pretty, taking money.”
“Oh. Then that shouldn’t be a problem at all,” I said, posing with my chin in my hands.
The girls laughed as Jean brought our food to the table. In between bites of cheeseburgers, the conversation moved to the Fourth of July bash coming up in a couple weeks.
I was grateful the conversation had moved on. The girls were crazy. Dax didn’t have any interest in me beyond inducing torture and revenge. Our relationship was a court-ordered business deal with a side of annoying each other for pleasure .
Was I attracted to Dax Miller? Sure. What red-blooded female wouldn’t be? The guy could fix anything with or without a shirt and had muscles built from physical labor.
The attraction couldn’t be stopped.
It was science.
But that didn’t mean I would be acting on or even acknowledging that fact. I guess there was something the senator and I agreed on…Dax was trouble. Trouble I needed to stay far, far away from.
You know, as best as I could while being legally required to see him all summer.