Page 44 of Last Chance at the Someday Café

Morgan didn’t roll his eyes. Much. Still, his attention riveted on the man.

“I don’t think so.” She stood there, poised and not at all ruffled.

“Come on, sweetheart.” The other man leaned forward and Morgan saw his hand move toward her. He also saw her swiftly grab the coffeepot.

“These things aren’t so expensive that I’d mind buying a new one,” she said softly, lifting the pot. “Might fit just fine on your head.” She smiled while she said it.

Too bad the lunkheads weren’t smart enough to see she wasn’t kidding. They laughed like the hyenas they were. “You don’t look like the type to like it rough, honey,” the first man said. “But we can oblige.”

That was too much for Morgan. Slowly, he pivoted on the stool and aimed a glare at the men. He didn’t move any more than that, and Tara didn’t see him as her back was to him. At first, the two men didn’t notice him, either. Finally, the first man looked at him, then away, then hastily returned his gaze to Morgan.

He saw the man swallow hard. He smacked his friend, then pointed at Morgan. The second man turned. Together, they stared. One man’s face washed white.

Tara saw the gesture and turned to see what he was pointing at. She glared at Morgan.

Morgan grinned. He couldn’t help it. She looked so cute frowning at him, though she’d probably just as soon put the coffeepot over his head as the idiot’s.

Slowly, Morgan spun and returned to his meal. He still watched them in the reflection. The men solemnly ordered their food and talked quietly when she left their table.

“That wasn’t necessary.”

Morgan hadn’t heard her come up behind him. She was so close. He should have noticed her scent or heat or something. He certainly did now, and he had to fight the urge to reach for her.

“Maybe. Maybe not.” He continued eating, not looking at her. The stew was really good.

“But thank you,” she whispered before walking toward the kitchen.

He watched the swinging doors close behind her. “You’re welcome.”

Morgan guessed Tara was going to avoid him until he left. He wasn’t sure what he should do about it.

* * *

TARA WAS DETERMINED to stay busy and distracted until Morgan returned to his truck. Not like she didn’t have plenty to do. She glared at the computer screen that resembled an old test pattern jiggling across the screen. The guy on the phone earlier today had said something about a video card. He’d used the word new. More money was all she heard, and she didn’t have any of that.

The waitstaff used this computer, and the one out front, to input and collect the payments. They needed it every day. She needed it fixed before the breakfast rush.

“Maybe just give it a smack on the side,” Wade said through the pass-through widow. “That’s what we used to do when I was a kid and the TV looked like that.”

“I’m not smacking my two-thousand-dollar computer,” she snapped.

Wade shook his head and returned to the bowels of the kitchen. Tara sighed. She didn’t have time for this. She was tired and edgy as it was. She refused to think about what—or who—caused that edginess.

She’d have to stop by the office supply store to get some extra order pads—just in case. The old-fashioned paper and pen method didn’t break down.

The swinging doors parted just then, and Morgan stepped through. Hastily, she returned her gaze to the monitor. “You’re not supposed to be back here.”

“Your fan club out there wants to pay their bill.”

“That’s what I’m working on,” she snapped. “I’ll be right out.” She should have known better than to expect him to leave.

“Whoa. Remind me never to tick you off.” He grinned at her. “That look could certainly kill.”

She blew at the few strands of hair that had fallen in her face. “You’ve probably already survived it.” She didn’t look at him, though. She tried several keyboard commands. “It’s this stupid computer.”

“She won’t smack it,” Wade called from the kitchen. “Why don’t you give it a try?”

“You have biscuits to cook,” she called to her short-order cook. She didn’t even listen to his grumbled response.

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