Page 42 of Tacos & Toboggans
She leaned on the counter with her forearms. “We were hoping you’d spend a Saturday afternoon in the bakery teaching them how to make the tortilla cookies. I swear that people can smell them from a mile away because the second you make some, they’re gone. Like, we can’t even keep them in the case for more than an hour.”
My grin was broad. I couldn’t help it. I loved that my neighbors and friends enjoyed the cookies as much as I did when I was a kid. “It’s fun to get comments from people when they come into the diner and tell me they just bought out the case, or those who come in grumpy because they missed out on them by minutes. It always makes me want to run down and make more.”
“Now you understand how the front-end workers feel,” Ivy said, laughing.
“Yes, which is why we made ten dozen cookies tonight. That’s a lot of tortillas, in case you were wondering.”
“I can only imagine,” she said, tapping the counter. “What do you do with the leftover pieces?”
“I leave them for the donut fryer. She fries them up and bags them as salad toppers. We can’t sell them as chips since the pieces aren’t uniform, but people love to buy them for their salads.”
“Wow, now there’s something I hadn’t thought of!” she exclaimed. “We could use them here on our taco salads.”
“You could,” I agreed. “Especially if you plan to make the cookies regularly.”
“I’m adding this to the agenda for Monday if you aren’t opposed.”
“Add away,” I said, holding my hands up near my chest. “Far be it for me to stop progress. They aren’t hard to make. Mel could teach the kids in a matter of minutes.”
“She could, but you know all the little tips and tricks to making them, and you tell fun stories about growing up with the cookies and how you and your yaya always made them together. It’s important to teach them not just how to make them but why it’s important to put love and care into each item we sell to our neighbors.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” I said, grinning like a fool and not even caring. Life was looking up, and I owed that all to her.
“Good, then eat your pie so I can take you home. You’re still recovering, young lady, and I need you at full power. The tree lighting is in ten days!”
My laughter filled the air as she dashed into the kitchen to let the cook know she’d closed the diner and would be leaving for a few minutes. I took a bite of the pie, the tart lemon even more vivid on my tongue than it had been just minutes ago. The new position would require time and dedication, but I was excited to start. The second bite of pie brought the thought that I couldn’t wait to get home and tell Major the good news. The same thought made me pause when I remembered his whispered comment to me earlier.
Dr. Major Warren is not interested in you, girl, I scolded myself.He’s offering your sorry butt a place to stay because he has the space, and doing so buys him goodwill with thecommunity. Just ignore the part where he said he’d date you if you agreed.
Chanting that on repeat in my head as I finished my pie and climbed into Ivy’s SUV, I couldn’t convince myself. The reason? The way he looks at me when he thinks I’m not looking.
Chapter Fourteen
The weather was sunny, but as we hit the middle of November, chilly was the name of the game. I was glad that the big splint was gone, so I could wear my regular coats, especially as we approached Thanksgiving and the tree lighting ceremony. Being outside all afternoon and evening meant you needed layers and a strong constitution, especially if it snowed.
With a sigh, I set my bowl of Rice Krispies in the sink, uneaten. They weren’t cutting it for me, and I had regrets that I didn’t grab a cinnamon roll from the diner last night before I left. Then again, the cinnamon roll was probably more of an emotional need than a physical one. Maybe I’d splurge on one when I was done at the farm. When I texted Cameron about going out to talk about the shack, he asked if I was available this morning. Since I wasn’t working yet, it was the perfect time to go. All I had to do was sneak out without Major noticing. Since he was probably still asleep, it shouldn’t be hard.
Was I avoiding him? Absolutely. When the hospital called last night and asked him to consult on a patient who had popped out a prosthetic hip, I insisted he go. Apparently, one of his areas of expertise was doing whatever it took to put aprosthetic hip back in place. I snorted at myself and shook my head. A doctor I wasn’t.
In hindsight, I was secretly glad he’d been called away, since it opened the door for me to return to the diner and learn about Ivy’s plans. After she dropped me off, I had trouble sleeping, so I sat and drew for a bit, thinking about the various ways I could set up a serving program. Since we’d have more meetings about it, most of my ideas were ones I’d pull bits and pieces from as we worked toward a plan that would suit everyone.
When I’d finished daydreaming, I looked down at the sketch I’d been working on and grimaced. I’d intended to work on a book character, but instead, I completed an image of Major wearing a bakery apron and holding a pan of cookies, with that unforgettable grin on his lips. With a groan, the sketch went into the same drawer as all the other ones I’d drawn since meeting him. Was I annoyed that I kept drawing him? Yes. Would I stop? If my brain were to listen to my sheer will, the answer would be yes. Otherwise, the likelihood was not anytime soon. As much as I hated to admit it, he was an excellent subject for drawing. His facial expressions were so vibrant, and his eyes. Oh, his eyes.
With a groan, I sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on my warmer boots, glad that the smaller splint made it easier to tie my shoes. It was cold enough today that Crocs would be a bit too chilly out at the farm. My laughter filled the room as I thought about the look on Major’s face every time I wore them to his house. When I asked him why he hated my shoes, he regaled me with story after story about people who had broken various bones while wearing them. I had to admit that I’d slipped in them a few times, and he begged me to stop wearing them outside the house. Sometimes, having an orthopedic doctor as a friend was a real drag.
“That’s right, a friend,” I reminded myself as I zipped my coat, before grabbing a hat and gloves just in case the wind was blowing at the farm. “Besides, you aren’t even sure how good a friend he is when he couldn’t tell you basic things about himself.”
Okay, so maybe that wasn’t fair to him, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t a little hurt by his omission. The logical side of my brain reminded me that there could be a reason he hadn’t told me. Maybe no one at work knew, and he wanted to keep it that way. Maybe he’d dealt with enough negative reactions to his disability that he now preferred to hide it rather than be open about it. Maybe what happened was a memory he didn’t want to relive. That thought drained all the hurt and anger from my system as a fist clenched my heart. If any of those reasons were true, my heart hurt to think he felt he couldn’t tell anyone out of fear of judgment, losing his job, or reliving bad memories.
Grabbing my keys, I left the cottage, quietly clicking the door behind me and heading to my car with a reminder to be kind the next time I saw him. He didn’t owe me anything, and the last thing I wanted was for him to feel like he had to tell me something that made him uncomfortable. No one deserved that.
“Going somewhere?” His voice from behind me made me jump, and a little scream left my lips as I dropped my keys on the ground. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”
After turning, I noticed him leaning out the side door of the house. “I’m heading to Evergreen Acres,” I answered. “I figured you got home late and were sleeping, so I was trying to be quiet.”
“It wasn’t too late,” he said with a shrug, but I knew for a fact his car was still gone when I went to bed at nearly midnight. “Do you want some company?”
“You want to go out to the farm?” I asked, surprised.
