Page 11 of Resting Beach Face
Skylar took a long drink of his Caramel Cockiato and smiled. “It’s almost worth it for this coffee.”
I opened my mouth, but Brooks beat me to the punch. “Don’t encourage him.”
I hefted the last coffee cup. “Is that how you want to treat the guy who got Grandma Kitty’s favorite drink?”
Brooks visibly softened. “You didn’t have to do that, man. Thanks.”
“It was no problem,” I said honestly.
I might not make enough money to help support my familyandpay for my own place, but I could manage a few extra coffees now and then.
“Did I hear coffee?” Kitty’s voice rang out across the lobby.
“You sure did,” I called with a grin.
Grandma Kitty tried to hurry her step, and I met her halfway across the lobby so she wouldn’t end up falling and breaking another hip. She’d recovered after her last fall, but it had taken a long, hard road that included a stay in an assisted-living facility.
She’d finally retired her cane and walked on her own, though she still had a hitch in her giddyup.
I extended the coffee. “One Spit-Roasted Blond for my favorite grandma.”
“Oh, aren’t you just the sweetest thing?”
She grabbed my shoulder and tugged, and I obliged by bending down so she could kiss my cheek.
“You keep this one around,” she ordered Sky. “He’s a good boy.”
I smiled as I retreated to my spot behind the front desk, ready to take reservations, address guests’ concerns, and greet new check-ins.
Grandma Kitty was probably the only person in my life who could call me agood boy, but I basked in her praise.
It wasn’t like I was getting much of it at home—or in my nonexistent love life. A guy had to take what he could get.
CHAPTER TWO
Declan
“This is justbeautiful country around here,” Mai, a petite Vietnamese woman with a hulking—but blissfully quiet—husband, looked at me with bright eyes. “I can’t wait to get out on the lake.”
“Mm,” I said, raising my cup to sip my coffee. Small talk wasn’t my forte. I wasn’t so good at regular talk, either. I forced myself to add a few words when she waited expectantly. “You have fun plans?”
That set her off on a spiel about boat tours and tubing and her poor pale husband, Jake, who needed to apply sunblock every hour to avoid frying to a crisp.
Mai wore a Weekend Hookers ballcap and a tank top that read,I like it in the boat. She’d clearly made a trip to Decked Out, a store full of kitschy lake apparel that she’d found hilarious. Jake was more circumspect in a simple blue tee and board shorts.
They’d booked the treehouse suite for the week, and by the sounds of things—oh somanysounds as she chattered—Mai was having a blast.
An older couple, Agnes and Roger, chimed in with their quieter plans to do some shopping in town. The main house was fully booked, but the Myers had headed into town for breakfast and the Jensens had gone out early to go fishing, which left only my couple out in the Tree Hut. They were late sleepers, so I didn’t expect to see them for a while.
Mai’s enthusiasm for the day ahead carried the conversation through breakfast, and I stood to clear the plates away. I’d made a spinach quiche, bacon, and toast since it was a weekend. Quiche seemed fancy but was easy to make, thankfully, because I was no Paula Deen.
I tried to avoid eating with the guests when I could—as it just highlighted my anti-social nature—but Mai was too determined toget to know me.It would have been too rude to refuse, even for me.
“What about you, Declan?” Roger asked as I stood. “You puttering around the garden again?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
My roses could do with some pruning, and the battle against weeds was ongoing.
