Arthur shuffled towards the door. “Clint cheats.”
I bit my lip to keep from laughing. “Last week, he accused you of the same thing.”
Arthur jutted out his chin. “He cheats,andhe lies. Maybe you should kick him out.”
I pulled open the front door. “You wouldn’t have any fun without your best competition.”
He mumbled something under his breath that sounded something like, “I’d win a lot more money, though.”
I leaned over and kissed Arthur’s papery cheek. “You be careful on your walk home. Will you text me when you get there?” Arthur only lived four blocks away, but I still worried. He didn’t get around quite as well as he used to.
He scowled down at me. “I’m not senile, you know.”
“I know.” I held up my hands in acquiescence. “I’m just a worrier. Humor me?”
His scowl melted into a gentle smile. “You’re lucky you’re so pretty. You get away with damn near anything.”
I gave him one more peck on the cheek. “Good to know.” I watched as he navigated the front walk and moved out to the street, not leaving my post until he disappeared from sight. I sighed as I flipped the sign on the door toClosed.
I had the overwhelming desire to let my body sink to the floor so I could curl up and take a nap. “First, you need to clean. Then, you can try for a ten-minute power nap.” Maybe ten minutes would be short enough that no nightmares would be able to find me.
I surveyed the space around me. Without a second pair of hands during the day, more dishes had piled up on tables and in the kitchen sink. I needed help, but the two people I’d interviewed this week would be more trouble than they were worth.
Tessa had offered to come back until I could find someone to replace her, but she was leaving on tour with Liam in a few weeks anyway. I might as well get used to tackling the Kettle’s workload mostly alone. Plus, it had taken Tessa so long to finally go after her passion, I didn’t want to be the one that took her away from her art now.
I headed for the kitchen and grabbed the busboy bin. Methodically, I made my way around the café. The tub got heavier and heavier with each table I cleared. When I finished about half of them, I lost my grip on the teacup I’d grasped and it went careening to the floor, smashing into bits. “Fuckity, fuck, flipping fudge sticks.”
My cursing always straddled the line between things that would come out of a sailor’s mouth and the made-up curse words I tried to use in front of my son. Today, my brain was apparently short-circuiting and combining all of the above. I bent down, setting the container on the floor and trying to pick up as many of the shards as I could before I got the broom.
The bell over the door jangled. I shot up at the sound, not realizing I hadn’t locked the door.
“Hey, Little J.”
My entire world seemed to tunnel as my vision went black, and my knees buckled.
“Shit!” Strong hands caught me before I could hit the floor. I blinked rapidly as Tuck’s face came into focus. His expression was full of worry. “Are you okay?” He settled me into one of the café chairs.
My stomach pitched. “I’m fine. Just got up too fast. You startled me.”
Tuck’s brow furrowed. “The door was unlocked.”
“Well, I thought I’d locked it.”
Tuck let out a sound that was a cross between a sigh and a growl of frustration. “You need to be more careful. Anyone could’ve come in here, and you wouldn’t have even known. Just because we live in a small town doesn’t mean you shouldn’t take precautions.”
I pinned him with a stare that should’ve had him taking a step back. “I know that. Believe me, I of all people fucking know that.”
Tuck winced. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
I waved him off. “I know.” I pushed up to stand, but the world turned wobbly again, and Tuck pressed me back into the chair.
“Oh, no, you don’t. When’s the last time you had something to eat?”
I tried to think back. I guess I had missed lunch. “A granola bar in the car on the way to drop Noah off at school?”
This time Tuck did growl. “You need to take better care of yourself.”
My skin prickled. “I take fine care of myself, you big behemoth.”
