Page 76 of The Runaway Bride of Blitzen Bay (Blitzen Bay)

Chapter Thirty-Three

NASH

December 25

Blitzen Bay, California

“So what, you work here now?”

When Elle stands up, I see she’s wearing a waitress’s apron. She grabs an order pad off Sam’s table.

“Izzy had a headache. I told her to go lie down and I’d take her shift.” She smiles at me as she makes her way over to my table with a pot of coffee. “And Merry Christmas, by the way.”

She has on black leggings tucked into her fur-lined boots. The sleeves on her white T-shirt are pushed up to her elbows. Her hair’s back in a messy ponytail with strands falling around her glowing face. She looks like she belongs here.

“Merry Christmas, Elle,” I say, smiling as she pours my coffee. “And what do you know about waitressing?”

“I know enough to get the coffee into the cups of people I like and into the laps of people I don’t like. Which do you want to be?” She raises her eyebrows and does that little head tilt that makes me crazy.

“I’d like to stay on your good side, ma’am. Thank you.”

“Good choice. Would you like your regular? B&G, scrambled, and coffee, right?”

She writes it down on her pad and walks away without waiting for my reply. I can’t help but notice how cute her butt looks in those pants. I watch her for a few minutes as she walks around the bar—serving coffee to a group that walked in behind me. Every person she approaches lights up when she’s talking to them. It’s like she’s the sun spreading her glow from east to west and then back again.

“You’re kind of late today,” she says, putting my plate in front of me and refilling my coffee. “It’s past seven. Did you sleep in?”

“I’m up at five every morning. I’m late because I was looking for you. I stopped by the inn first. I thought maybe you’d left.”

“I told you I wasn’t leaving the North Pole before Christmas.”

“Happy to hear it,” I say, looking down at my plate. There’s a bowl of blueberries in the middle of my usual breakfast. “Elle, why are there blueberries on my plate?”

“Because they’re delicious and they’re good for you. You’re almost thirty. You need to start eating healthier.”

“I’m not almost thirty. I’m almost twenty-seven and I told you I don’t like fruit.”

“You’re in your late twenties. It’s a downward slide from here. Oops, hold up. New customer.” She pops out of the booth and looks back at me over her shoulder. “Eat your blueberries, grandpa.”

She bounces across the floor—her ponytail swinging back and forth. She pours a cup of coffee for Darrel who owns the hardware store down the block. He smiles broadly as he watches her walk away. She puts his order in and makes her way back over to me.

“So, I’ve never known Izzy to take as much as an hour off. How’d you get her to sit out the entire morning?”

She slides back into the booth. “I promised her she could ask me any question and I would answer it fully and honestly.”

“No, Elle,” I say, jerking backward like someone just slapped me. “Rookie mistake. You can’t give Izzy that kind of power. She already knows way too much about everyone.”

She shrugs. “I told you, I’m an open book.”

“Oh right. We’ll see. I still have a lot more questions I want to ask you.”

The “order-up” bell rings from the kitchen. She jumps up again.

“I’ll answer anything, but you have to answer more for me.” She spins around and smiles at me and turns back around to the kitchen in one fluid motion. “Please have your blueberries eaten by the time I get back.”

“So, is our relationship just going to be you bossing me around?” I call after her.

“I mean if that’s how you want it to work, I’m totally comfortable with it.”

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