Page 11 of Spiritwarrior

To make matters worse, she was operating on a string-shoe budget until her mother and stepfather could move to Treepoint to help out.

At least, this morning she hadn’t had any complaints about the food. She now wished she had hired a waitress instead of a cook—she couldn’t do any worse at cooking than George. Once her parents arrived, her mother would take over the kitchen and her stepfather could help with the front of the restaurant.Ifshe could survive financially until they got here in three weeks, and right now, the possibility of the restaurant supporting all three of them looked bleak.

She loved being a waitress. She had basically been raised in a variety of different restaurants. Her mom had told her that when she and Marty were married, she had placed a playpen in the kitchen of their restaurant. After her divorce, she taught her to sit out of way, at a table to play. She had grown up pretending to wait on customers until she was old enough to perform simple tasks to help out. How many years had she dreamed of owning her own restaurant, with her family working alongside her?

She wasn’t going to give up that dream without a fight.

There was a downside to waitressing—she learned more about customers’ lives than she wanted to know. Yesterday, she had overheard one of them telling her friend that she was going to leave her husband. It didn’t seem right she was privy to that information before her husband. Today, listening to a woman being dumped and witnessing her reaction had been hard. Sadly, she had been in her place a time or two.

Sophie could understand why the woman appeared so devasted. The man who was dumping her was so hot she was shocked his ass hadn’t set his chair on fire. It was everything she could do to close her mouth before approaching their table. Men who looked like him should be considered a fire hazard.

He was built like a linebacker, the material of his T-shirt straining to cover his biceps and chest. His girlfriend was no slouch, either, dressed as if she were about to go the gym. The black workout top she wore under her jacket had shown a sleekly toned midriff and pert breasts surpassing of her bra. Sophie had stared at the woman’s generous display in envy. And not for the first time did she consider getting breast implants.

Her girls weren’t totally lacking, but they weren’t va-va vroom, either. Just once she wanted to be va-va vroom. Her friend, Talia, was without trying. Sophie had complained to her on more than one occasion, mainly when they were drunk off their asses. She had to work to be a va; she inspired to be a va-va. To be a va-va vroom, she would have to go to one of those expensive plastic surgeons in California. Talia was a natural va-va vroom, and if she weren’t so nice, Sophie would hate her.

Her envy of her female customer had vanished before she could get three steps away from the couple. The woman had accused him of staring at her as if just looking at her would make him come. Her legs had nearly buckled under her when she’d heard that shattering tidbit because. If his girlfriend had been aware that her body had reacted the same way, the only tip she would have gotten was to run.

Sophie had noticed the woman’s stiletto-shaped bloodred nails. She didn’t want those things anywhere near her face. Having to psych herself to go back to take their order hadn’t been easy, and she couldn’t have done so at a worse moment.

Whatever the relationship the woman had thought she was having with the man wasn’t the same as he wanted. From her expression, the woman had been crushed.

Sophie would bet a hundred bucks the guy waited until he had scored before hitting the end button.

Why did men have to be such rat bastards? The guy seemed comfortable smashing the woman’s heart, too comfortable from her point of view. In her opinion, way too indifferent.

Her mind played back the woman’s heartbreak, and she unintentionally glared down at the customer whose order she was taking.

Other than the woman’s nails, she had seemed nice. Sophie could even see them become friends in the future. They could compare skid marks where their lousy exes had run over them.

Returning her glare, the customer lowered his menu back to the table. “You the new owner?”

“Yes.” Belatedly, she realized she had made the customer the recipient of her frustration for the male species.

“I heard you’re Marty’s daughter.”

“Yes.”

The customer looked at his friend. “That apple didn’t fall from the tree, did it?”

Sophie hadn’t seen her father for the last years of his life but knew she didn’t resemble Marty. She didn’t have to take a wild guess that her customer wasn’t talking about the physical similarities she shared with her father.

Within five minutes of her arriving in town, she had discovered the town’s hatred for him. She couldn’t blame them; Marty’s only redeemable part was his ability to fry a damn good burger.

“I apologize for my rudeness. I had something else on my mind. I didn’t mean to take it out on you,” she apologized.

Both men stared at her in shock.

“Marty would have let the restaurant burn down before he apologized.” The man held out his hand. “Moon.” He then gestured to the man across the table. “This is Train.”

“Sophie. It’s nice to meet you both,” she introduced herself with a lopsided grin. “I heard my father didn’t have the best customer service skills.”

“Nonexistent would be closer to the mark.”

She took their order and retreated from their table.

Placing the ticket in kitchen window, she peeked through the opening to see what George was doing.

“George!” she said loudly. “Wake up.”

---