Page 45 of Life of the Party

“I think we should fix that. Don’t you?” He asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t really see how. Unless you start growing weed in your fields or something.” I smiled at my ridiculous suggestion.

Brad leaned a hand against the wall, grinning widely at me. “See. Right there. You have the most adorable smile. Did you know that?”

I felt my cheeks warm. “Oh, you’re just saying that.”

“I am?” He chuckled. “Why?”

“I don’t know.” I shook my head. “Maybe you’re still in awe of my amazing service.”

“Trust me, Mackenzie,” Brad leaned towards me then, his voice dropping seriously. “The service wasn’t that good.”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. I laughed and laughed, looking up at Brad in amazement, startled to find he had an actual personality. He laughed with me, his odd, amber-coloured eyes twinkling handsomely, his wide smile becoming on his face.

“Uh, thanks, I guess.” I giggled.

“There it is again. That smile.” Brad sighed. He glanced back at his friends waiting impatiently by the front door. “I should go. You and me, we’ll hang out soon, okay?”

“Um…” I bit my lip, not sure what to say.

“Don’t think about it. Just say yes.”

“Okay. Yes.” I nodded, and found myself smiling again.

His answering grin flashed charmingly across his face. I watched him go, amazed. What was happening to me? Was I really desperate enough for a friend to consider fraternizing with a cowboy? I shook my head as I rang up the bill, but I couldn’t keep the smile from my face. Maybe I was going crazy or something, but it seemed like there was more to Brad than just Wrangler jeans and Roper boots. I watched his truck pull out of the parking lot and felt an odd, inexplicable surge of hope.

Charlie met me in the waitress area, handing me my tip on her way by—a crisp, twenty-dollar bill. She smiled in disbelief. “What did you do for those guys, a lap dance or something?”

“Something like that.” I joked in amazement. I honestly had no idea. Maybe my service wasn’t as bad as Brad said it was, maybe my sudden wit had won him over, or maybe…he liked me. I took the bill and stuffed it into my tip cup, nearly overflowing from the busy evening.

“Good night?” Roger appeared again from the kitchen, the door swinging shut behind him. He smiled nicely at me. “Looks like it.” He peered over at my tips, his breath boozy.

“Yeah. I hope so.” I nodded. “It was busy enough.”

“You girls did great.”

“Thanks.” I smiled at him again but felt uncomfortable just standing there. He was my boss, after all; I’m sure he wanted me busy. I picked up a cloth and spray bottle and started wiping down the counters. Roger leaned against the station and watched me as I worked. The longer he stood there, the more whiskey I could smell; it overpowered even his nice cologne. I wondered how long he’d been drinking in the back.

“Have you found another cook?” I asked politely, more to fill the awkward silence than to satisfy my curiosity. I didn’t like thinking about Riley being replaced.

“Some promising applicants, anyway.” Roger sighed. “Good staff are hard to find.”

He pushed away from the counter and took a few casual steps towards me. I moved to the opposite side of the station to get out of his way, repositioning against the counter by the order window. The kitchen staff were busy in the back, recovering from the rush. Grey was at the line on the other side of the window—horribly close to me—I could hear him cleaning the steam table. I could see the back of his neck as he bent over his work. I tried not to stare; I didn’t want him to catch me.

It’d be so much easier if I could just ignore him.

I busied myself with organizing the countertops, stacking up the soup bowls, putting the coffee cups away. Roger was still in the station, standing by the fridge, his eyes on me. It was getting awkward…I couldn’t tell if he was there for a reason or just drunk and oblivious. I hoped he wasn’t critiquing my cleaning skills. I was in a rush to get done so we could leave.

“Do you like it here?” Roger asked suddenly. He staggered forward and met me at the counter, his belly pushing up against my side. Startled, I looked up at him. His face was disturbingly close. He smiled down at me, the whiskey on his breath strong, sour. I moved discreetly away from him so our bodies weren’t touching anymore.

“Yeah. It’s been great.” I spoke with false enthusiasm. This was getting weird. Where the hell was Charlie? I refilled the coffee container, moving further away.

“It’s important that the staff are friendly.” Roger smiled crookedly, moving closer as he spoke. His voice lowered until he was nearly whispering in my ear. He lifted his arm and reached around my back, resting his hand on the side of my rib cage.

The moment I felt the hot contact of his hand, I froze. His touch was heavy on my side, his thick fingers sticking to my shirt.

I kept my eyes down, staring blankly at the countertop, not daring to move.

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