Lexi extended her hand, the straw in her fingers, her gaze stuck on his, noticing how deeply brown his eyes were. They were captivating in a way that could suck a person in, make them want to see if they changed when he laughed or when he got turned— Something blocked her hand right before her fingers hit the cool glass. She felt it tipping before she broke eye contact to see that she was accidentally pushing the drink over. She dropped the straw and, hurrying to right the glass, knocked it more. Yup, Coke splashed over the rim, dotting the book edge and the table.
“I’m so sorry,” Lexi said.
Will moved quickly, setting the book on his lap, grabbing his cutlery and undoing the napkin it was wrapped in. He sopped up the mess while she pulled a couple of extra napkins from her apron.
“No harm.” His voice was deep and calm.
“Your book,” she said. Frustration mounted in her chest like a sports car revving in neutral.Just one day without spilling something on someone.
“It’s fine. Just a splash of Coke. If I get desperate for caffeine later, I can lick the cover.”
Lexi snort-laughed, then slapped a hand over her mouth. She closed her eyes so she wouldn’t roll them at herself. Had she thought she could handle the socializing part? Clearly, she wasn’t winning trophies for that either.
“Are you going to stand there with your eyes closed?” Amusement tinged his tone.
“I’m considering trying to back up and leave without opening them.”
His laugh was unguarded and fun. Damn it. She bet the corners of his eyes crinkled.
She opened one eye, dropped her hand so she could pick up the wet napkins. “It’d be easier if you just close yours while I go. Then we can pretend this never happened.”
Forced to open both eyes, she reassured herself that not much had spilled. He picked up the straw, removed the damp paper wrapper, stuck it in his glass, and put his lips on it. Her stomach fluttered, not unlike the way the wrapper did when he dropped it to the table. Smiling around the straw, he took a large sip. His brows drew together.
“This might be diet.”
Lexi groaned, took the glass when he passed it. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Now I don’t have to feel guilty for having more.”
If only all of her customers were so sweet, adorable, and forgiving. “Be right back.” Maybe she’d go home with hardly any tips today, but it wasn’t so bad after all. If she could just stop putting so much pressure on herself, just take a breath now and again, things would smooth themselves out.
For the first time since her life had fallen apart three years ago, she was heading in the right direction. She’d get better at this with practice. Things might have come easily to her throughout high school and university, but it didn’t make her a failure that this had a learning curve.Dig deep.It was time to remember how good she’d been at that.Time to prove to herself she could be again. Alexandria the Comeback Kid. She was so close. Maybe then she’d be able to get a do-over.
She’d had big plans for herself. Everyone had cheered her on, believed in her. Friends, family, people she couldn’t remember the names of. Most Likely to Succeed. That was her, destined for a life worthy of her name.
Those yearbook declarations didn’t take into account the snowball of bad luck that had yanked the synthetic rubber track out from under her feet when she was just three classes shy of finishing college. The avalanche that followed had kept her buried. Until now. She was going to get out from under it. One table at a time.
Two
Lexi couldn’t fight the little bounce in her step as she dropped off Will’s soda—the right one this time. Without spilling it. She cleared her tables, put the umbrellas up, and received a decent tip from the three ladies. Progress.
Brett’s lips moved but he didn’t quite smile. “Can you cover for Tiff Monday morning?” he asked as he refilled the ice.
“I can’t,” she said, with real regret. There was a Monday-morning seniors group that preordered their meals and tipped great. She’d just have to carry food without dropping it. “I still have my full-time job. I’m sorry.”
“I’ll ask someone else,” Brett said, gesturing to the pass-through bar when the bell rang. “That’s your table-two order.”
Because she didn’t want to walk away with him seeming disappointed, she took a tiny leap and shared an idea she’d been turning over. “I was thinking that if you wanted to capitalize on having the senior crowd on Mondays, you could run a couple of specials geared toward them, maybe even do a buy one meal get half off if you bring someone new on a Monday morning.” Regulars were great, but turnover and volume were better.
Brett’s lips pursed in a considering way. Two years younger than her, he had a degree and ran a staff of twenty so she wasn’t sure he’d take her suggestion.
The kitchen bell chimed again, reminding her of her order. Brett arched his brows, saying nothing about her idea and everything about what she should focus on without speaking at all.
She was thinking about missed opportunities as she brought Will his sandwich. The side of fries smelled delicious. She needed something to eat. Will set his book to the side as she approached. His soda was empty again. He could really put them away.Or maybe he wants you to keep coming back to his table.
Running a hand through his thick, dark hair, he gave her the kind of grin that stuck in a person’s head for longer than it should. The kind she’d probably see later when she closed her eyes.
His brows lifted. “This looks great. Thank you,” he said, putting a napkin across his lap.
