Page 7 of Waitress at the Shadow Ridge Inn
“I heard Zieglers had to triple the number of haunted hayrides this year to meet demand.”
I wouldn’t be surprised. The closer we got to Halloween, the bigger the crowds became. Ziegler Farms was wildly popular, especially during autumn, and the exemplary weather as of late had been bringing people to the area in droves.
Also wildly popular? The Ziegler boys themselves, though they could hardly be calledboys. There were at least four of them, and they were each ridiculously handsome. They came into the inn occasionally, were always polite and well mannered, and left fabulous tips. And that guy I’d seen that day when I stopped for lunch? He was one of them. We hadn’t spoken outside of the normal server-customer dialogue, but I felt him watching me sometimes. I might have taken a few surreptitious peeks at him too.
Don’t judge me. He was nice to look at.
“And they all end up here,” I said to Shannon, wrangling my thoughts back to work.
“Good for us though, right? My kids are going to have a good Christmas this year.”
“Good for us,” I agreed. “But exhausting.”
Shannon smiled sympathetically. “You’ve put in a hell of a long day. Why don’t you go on home? I can take it from here.”
Home. The word sounded foreign to me. I didn’t think of the caretaker’s cottage where I was staying these days as home. Granted, it was so much better than the budget lodge, but it was still just a temporary place to be when I wasn’t at the inn. The old couple who owned the estate were friends of John and Rose and liked to travel, and the rent was crazy cheap. I suspected Rose had had something to do with that. Maybe it was her way of getting me to stick around longer.
It had worked. Obviously.
“I think I will,” was what I said to Shannon.
The inn had been nonstop all day, and Rose wanted me in early tomorrow. The new Sunday brunch buffet was proving to be almost as popular as the weekend hayrides.
“I’ll just deliver these, and then I’m outta here.”
CJ put the last of the drinks on the bar tray. I slid my hand beneath it and lifted it smoothly, like the seasoned server I was, then wove my way toward my waiting customers. I passed a rowdy table of new arrivals and was secretly glad Shannon would be dealing with them. Most people were pretty cool, but there were always a few assholes.
“Hey, beautiful,” one of them called out as I passed by. “What’s your hurry?”
I pretended I hadn’t heard him. Given the noise level in the lounge, it was entirely plausible that I hadn’t. Unfortunately, my destination table was right behind his, so I couldn’tkeepgoing.
“Hey. I’m talking to you,” the beefy man said, raising his voice.
I summoned up my patience, turned, and offered what I hoped was a pleasant smile. “Please bear with us tonight. As you can see, we’re very busy. Your server will be around in just a moment.”
“Maybe we want you.”
“Sorry, this is it for me. Shannon will take good care of you.”
I continued to hand out beverages to my table, answering their sympathetic smiles with one of my own. I had three drinks left on my tray, and thankfully, they were for a group on the far end of the room.
I straightened, anxious to move away. The skin at the back of my neck was prickling—and not in a good way. I took a step and stopped. The loudmouth had shoved his seat back and into the narrow space between the tables. Without leaving his chair, he lunged for me, grabbing the wrist that wasn’t holding the tray and narrowing his eyes.
“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” he said, his voice rough and menacing. “Aren’t we good enough for you?”
“Cool it, Jim,” said one of his buddies, shifting uncomfortably. “We don’t want any trouble. Just relax and have a good time, yeah?”
Curling his lip, the one called Jim made a rude sound and shoved me away—hard—right into a guy making his way toward the men’s room. The action upended my tray, dousing me with beer and liquor before hitting the floor and shattering glasses and bottles.
“I’m so sorry,” I said to the random guy I’d just unintentionally body slammed.
I’d taken the brunt of it, but he’d gotten some splashback.
He looked down at me, then at himself, and gave me a loose, alcohol-assisted smile. “All good,” he said. “You?”
“All good,” I assured him. “Go on. I’ve got this.”
After a moment’s hesitation, he nodded and continued on his way. I bent down to gather the broken pieces of glass before someone got hurt. Under my breath, I cursed the arrogant jerk who’d pushed me.
