Page 15 of Waitress at the Shadow Ridge Inn
“None taken.”
“Besotted then. Fascinated by. Infatuated with,” said Rose in a singsong voice.
Yeah, she was already on her way to being toasted.
“Steve Ziegler is no more interested in me than I am in him,” I said firmly, “and to be clear, I amnotinterested. This”—I waved my hand around vaguely—“is just temporary, remember?”
It was obvious from their smirks and smug expressions that they didn’t believe me. Maybe because actions spoke louder than words, and I was still here.
“Come on, darlin’,” Lou said unhelpfully. “Give the poor man a break. A little sugar goes a long way.”
“I think you’re all on crack,” I said irritably. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”
“No,” they answered in unison.
I growled a little in the back of my throat, frustrated with the conversation. Nothing I said was going to change their minds, so I took my iced tea and retreated to the kitchen. I found Max there, prepping things for the dinner crowd. He glanced up and nodded in silent welcome and empathy. At least I knewhewouldn’t get on my case.
“I’ll get some more bowls and give you a hand.”
I moved to the back, where Jessie was finishing up the last of the brunch dishes.
“Hey, Jessie, I just came to grab some bowls.”
Up to her elbows in sudsy water, she cast a glance over her shoulder at me. “Is that all you have to say to me?”
I blinked, at a loss. “Uh, your hair looks nice today?”
Jessie laughed. “Nice try. Admit it. I was right, wasn’t I?”
“About …” I prompted, but of course, I already knew.
Jessie had heard the others prattling on and believed the man who was going to change my life was Steve Ziegler.
She smiled knowingly.
I groaned. “Not you too. You shouldn’t listen to gossip, you know.”
“What do you think of him?”
I reached up and plucked several large stainless steel bowls from the shelf. They’d do well for keeping the homemade coleslaw and potato salad chilled.
“If you’re referring to Steve Ziegler, I don’t think anything, other than he seems like a nice guy. There was an incident in the lounge last night, and he was kind enough to offer a hand. That’s it. That’s all. Hardly a great impact on my life,” I said, the words coming out sharper than usual. But as I’d said, I was tired and cranky and done with this conversation.
Did I find Steve Ziegler incredibly attractive? Yes, absolutely. Did I think he was interested in me? Also yes. The way he looked at me sometimes … well, it incited the kind of tinglies best experienced in private. Under different circumstances, I’d find that very flattering and be willing to go out with him. But that wasn’t an option.
Jessie stopped what she was doing and turned to face me. Her teasing smile faded into something softer and sadder.
“I don’t know what happened to you, but it doesn’t take an intuitive to know that it marked you. You need to accept that bad things happen to us for a reason. They shape us into the people we’re meant to be.”
I snorted. My therapist had said something similar. I’d thought it was bullshit then, and I thought it was bullshit now. My parents’ deaths and my attack were not preordained stepping stones to an end goal of me wandering around the country to avoid a sociopath. If that were the case, then God or destiny or fate or whatever was an asshole.
I bit my tongue to keep from saying so.
“You don’t believe me,” Jessie said, narrowing her eyes.
“I believe that you believe.”
If that was what she needed to sleep at night, more power to her.
