Baby, Don't Go. Stephanie BondЧитать онлайн книгу.
glanced down at the eggs and at the sight of the blackened edges, muttered a curse before scraping them all into the food waste canister.
“Someone’s not paying attention,” Alicia teased.
The words leapt to his tongue that his attention span had been fine before she came to town and started taking baths in the wild and wearing short shorts. Marcus closed his eyes. His lack of sleep— also her fault—was wearing on him. He opened his eyes, but averted his gaze.
“I need another dozen eggs from the kitchen, plus a T-bone steak and a tray of biscuits.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
He tucked his tongue into his cheek. His workers called him “boss” all the time…so why did it sound mocking coming out of her curvy red mouth? He tried to force his mind away from the woman and concentrate on the orders that were coming in. The three waitresses were tossing around slang he could barely decipher.
“Flop two, over easy.” (Two fried eggs, runny yoke.)
“Heart attack on a rack.” (Biscuits and sausage gravy.)
“Two pigs in a blanket.” (Sausage links wrapped in pancakes.)
He was on the verge of throwing up his hands when Alicia returned with the promised food from the kitchen. She glanced over the food orders written on tickets posted over the grill. “I’ll do the eggs and pancakes if you’ll take care of the meat.”
Her closeness unnerved him.
She looked supremely annoyed. “Do you want my help or not?”
He frowned. “Okay.”
She stepped next to him and, bristling, they worked practically hip to hip. Marcus was aware of every inch of her…and how was it possible that her light, sweet perfume cut through the strong odors of the food cooking?
He’d never thought of arms as sexy, but hers were—long and shapely, ending in pretty hands that seemed better suited to office work than the harsh environment of handling food and detergents. Her slim bare wrist reminded him of the bracelet he’d found in the creek, the one he was still trying to find a way to return to her without raising a red flag.
She sighed. “What?”
He turned his head, a mistake because this close, her big brown eyes were so deep, he almost tripped. “What?”
Alicia frowned. “You’re staring at my hands, so I’m obviously doing something wrong.”
He scrambled for an excuse. “You shouldn’t turn pancakes more than once.”
Her shoulders went back. “Really? Is that another town rule? I’ve never seen so many rules in my life as this place has.”
He frowned. “No, it’s not a rule. It’s just something my mother always said.”
Her shoulders softened. “Oh.” She turned back to the grill and loosened the cooking eggs with a metal utensil. “Is your mother still living?”
“Yes.”
“Does she live here?”
“No.”
Alicia gave a little laugh. “Getting information out of you is like pulling teeth.”
He squinted. “Why do you want information?”
“I don’t. I mean…I was just making conversation.” She looked away, and Marcus felt like a jerk.
“After the tornado, she moved north of Atlanta to live with her sister,” he offered. “But she’s moving back to Sweetness Homecoming weekend.”
“That’s nice,” she mumbled.
He’d hurt her feelings—Jesus, women were sensitive. “It’s sort of a milestone for all of us,” he added, turning the sausage. “One of the reasons we wanted to rebuild the town was so my mother could come back home.”
Her expression turned wistful. “Your family must be close.”
“We are,” he conceded. “My father passed away when I was a teenager, but my brothers and I are close to our mother.” He kept turning the food, and suddenly missed her conversation. “Do you have family?”
She took her time responding. “I have my parents. They divorced when I was young.”
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, unable to imagine a life where his parents hadn’t lived together and loved each other.
Another shrug. “Some people just aren’t meant to be together. Besides, marriage is an outdated institution.”
Marcus agreed that these days marriage seemed to be more of a gamble than a promise, but the truth sounded bleak coming out of the mouth of a young, attractive woman.
“You’ve tried it?” he asked. “Marriage, I mean.”
She looked horrified. “No.”
He frowned. “Yesterday you seemed to be looking for a man.”
She blanched and seemed to catch herself. “Yes, but I…I don’t necessarily want to get married.” She seemed nervous. “Have you ever been married?”
He let out a bitter laugh. “Not me.”
“Ah, so we agree on one thing.”
They did, yet for some reason it rankled him. “No brothers and sisters?” he asked to change the subject.
“Nope,” she said in a way that closed the topic. She transferred two pancakes to a plate and handed it to him to add the sausages.
He rolled the hot pancakes around the links, then secured them with a toothpick and passed the plate off to Sheila. Alicia served up the eggs on another plate, but seemed preoccupied. He felt a pang for her, that she’d never experienced the security of a close-knit family.
The door opened and Porter and Kendall walked in, shooting grins in his direction.
Sometimes, though, he felt as if his family was too close. He plated the steak and handed it to Gina, then turned to face the firing squad.
“I like the apron,” Porter said as he bellied up to the counter.
Marcus brushed at crumbs on the front of the camouflage-print apron he wore. “Shut up.”
“What, no hair net?” Kendall asked as he slid onto the stool next to Porter.
Marcus sent a glare his way, too. “If I have to box your ears right here in public, I will.”
Kendall laughed. “Relax, Marcus. We’re just giving you a hard time. We’re glad you took over this place.”
Porter made a rueful noise. “Molly, on the other hand…”
Marcus sighed. “How is she?”
“She’s stubborn, like you. She’s working in the lost and found warehouse, sure that you’ll come crawling back when you get fed up.”
Remorse shot through Marcus—he felt indebted to Molly for her loyalty, but he’d given her as much leeway as he could to make the transition from running a military-inspired mess hall to running a civilian-friendly diner. He’d have to figure out a way to make it up to her.
Alicia walked up holding the glass coffeepot. “Coffee?” she asked his brothers.
They turned over the clean coffee cups sitting on the counter in front of them.
“Sure.”
“Yes, thanks.”
They both seemed wary of the coffee and intrigued by his new manager at the same time. He could see they were brimming with questions.
“I’m Alicia Waters,” she offered with a smile that she’d never extended to him.
“Porter