Page 30 of Firecracker

Arden took it all in, mentally filing away the information.

“Between table visits, you can keep busy by wrapping silverware or drying glasses, refilling service stands, wiping tables, picking up crap from the floor…that kind of stuff.”

So when things were quiet, she prepped linens, silverware, and glassware, filled condiments, and restocked napkins. Sorcha also had her clean tables and run plates to the kitchen, which she did without complaining.

As things got busier, Arden tried to help more by picking up orders to serve. She arrived at a booth with two meals and smiled at them. She’d been smiling since she arrived there, and her face was starting to hurt, but she knew the importance of a pleasant expression. “The turkey club?”

Both men looked at her blankly.

She blinked. “Um…turkey club and shepherd’s pie?”

“Nope. Not ours, honey.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry.” She flashed her smile even bigger, and returned to the kitchen to check the order. Had the kitchen screwed up?

“What’s wrong?” Sorcha asked.

“Um, they didn’t order this.”

“Table twelve,” Sorcha snapped. “You got the wrong table.”

“I thought thatwastable twelve.” She swallowed a sigh of frustration.

“Great. Just remember…your screw-ups affectmytips.”

Arden swallowed and nodded. “I’m sorry. I apologized.”

“Get table twelve their meals, now.”

She hurried to the right table. She needed to go over the seating again and make sure she’d memorized everything.

As she carried a tray of plates back to the kitchen, a man at table two near the bar flagged her down. “Excuse me. What’s that martini called that has a cocktail onion?”

She gaped at him. She had no clue. “Um. A martini?”

He frowned. “No, it’s got a different name. Anyway, we’ll each have one of those.”

She hesitated. “Okay, sure.”

Probably better to take their order, even though she had no idea what they wanted, than to tell them she wasn’t waiting tables yet. She paused at the bar and waved to Liam.

He moved toward her with a smile. “Yeah, love?”

“Table, um, two wants two martinis with pickled onions.”

His eyebrows rose.

“What’s that called? A martini with a pickled onion.”

“That’s a Gibson.”

“Oh.” She blew out a breath. “Damn.”

“Yeah, we’ll spend some time on the menus, don’t worry, love. Is Sorcha cracking the whip?”

“Oh, no, no.” The last thing she was going to do was complain to the boss about her trainer. Especially when she was the boss’s sister. “She’s great. Teaching me a lot.”

“I’ll get the drinks to them. You take those dishes to the kitchen.”

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