Page 87 of That Kind of Guy

“Finally.” Max’s voice was tense and urgent. “Did you see my texts?”

“No, I’ve been away from my phone.” My gaze flicked to Emmett. He watched me with dark eyes and began to unzip my hoodie. I grinned and slapped his hand away. “What’s up?”

“Three servers are sick, the supplier’s truck was in an accident so we don’t have any eggs, a busload of hungry tourists just walked in the door, and we never have enough forks! Where do all the forks go? Are the dishwashers just throwing them in the garbage?” His voice wavered. “We can’t be the kind of place to use plastic forks, Avery. We just can’t. Why are Friday mornings always like this?”

“Okay, okay. Take a deep breath.” I adopted the voice of a calm woman, like on commercials. Emmett’s hands roamed my torso and I bit back a grin and leaned into his warmth. “Who was driving? Was it John? Is he okay?”

“Yes, and he’s fine. It was just a fender bender but I think he popped a tire.”

“I’m going to call the grocery store and pull in a favor. You’ll have eggs in ten minutes. I’ll find the forks. It’s going to be okay. I’m on my way.”

Emmett’s mouth was on my ear, making me shiver. “She’s sick. She can’t work.”

“Are you sick too!?” Max squeaked.

“No, Max, I’m fine,” I laughed. “Emmett’s just joking.”

“Not joking,” Emmett murmured against the crook of my neck. “Think you have a fever.”

Max huffed a breath. “Also, I saw Chuck talking to Keiko.”

I froze. “About what?” Emmett lifted his head to listen.

“I don’t know, but she looked uncomfortable.”

I chewed my lip. “Okay. Hold down the fort until I get there. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

We hung up and Emmett and I looked at each other.

“He’s up to something.” Emmett’s hands came to my shoulders and a crease formed between his eyebrows. “I don’t like how he’s been hanging around so much lately.”

“I don’t like it either, but I can’t really stop him. I’ll check in with Keiko today to make sure we’re all good.” We had a bank appointment on Tuesday to sign the paperwork and transfer the business over to me. I knew the next few days would be a blur, with the wedding and all, but four days felt like forever.

I rose up on my toes to give Emmett a quick kiss. “I should go.”

“I’ll drive you.”

The morning flew by as Max, myself, and one other server managed to keep a full restaurant happy. The busload of tourists turned out to be in great spirits, and very understanding of our staff shortage. The dishwasher hadnotbeen tossing the forks in the garbage, but placing them in a spot four feet away from where Max thought they were, so that issue was sorted. John, the delivery driver, showed up after lunch with a new tire and all the food we had been running out of.

During the lull between lunch and dinner, Max and I stood at the bar, catching our breaths. There were a few lingering tables but the rush was over and everything was finally under control.

“We haven’t had a day like that in a while.” My voice sounded dazed.

Max leaned against the bar, staring at nothing in front of him. “I can’t feel my feet.”

“Go home.” I nudged him with my elbow. “You’ve been here since opening. I’m supposed to be the workaholic, not you.”

“I’ll wait until Rachel gets here,”

The front door opened and Rachel breezed in. “Hey,” she said with a cheerful smile.

I turned to Max. “Go home.”

After practically kicking him out the door, Max relented and left. Two more servers arrived and we prepared for dinner service. It was Friday night so the restaurant was full of tourists, and I stepped in on bar to help mix drinks. At one point, I stepped into my office and shot Emmett a quick text.

We’re slammed tonight, is it okay if I raincheck on our dinner? I’m so sorry.

He responded immediately.

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