Page 4 of Secret Santa

“I had to agree to be a Secret Santa.” I admitted with a shake of my head, remembering I still needed to get Priscilla a gift. “Priscilla King, owner of Ito Eats, will be the unfortunate recipient of my terrible gift buying.”

“Priscilla King.” Kimball nodded as if her name somehow provided a door to all the information in the world. “That Fitzy has great taste. She’s a workaholic just like you. I’m sure if you drove past her restaurant right now, she’d still be there. In fact, go. Get the meatloaf and a slice of her coconut cake. It’s the best in three counties.”

He knocked on my desk as if his fist were a gavel and he was Judge Judy. “That wasn’t a request. Go out and get to know the town a little. Enjoy a night and clear your head before you head into a long weekend in Toronto. And if you want to pack a loaf of her banana bread in your carry-on, I won’t complain.”

ChapterFour

I told Fitzy when she insisted I be Secret Santa I didn’t have time for her holiday shenanigans. Thanksgiving was still three weeks away, and I had more orders than I knew what to do with. I was already at the diner fourteen hours a day between the cooking, the serving, and the baking.

We were over a week in, and I hadn’t done shit for the poor, lonely hearted, new guy. I sucked at the whole Secret Santa thing. Why couldn’t I have gotten one of the old timers in the building? Ones I could easily delight with cheesy refrigerator magnets with Elvis quotes on them or kitschy socks.

“Welcome to Ito Eats. When we say it, people smile!”

I called into the dining room from the kitchen. It figured when I’d been counting on a slow last hour so I could catch up on inventory and prep work, I got someone coming in wanting food. I’d already sent my cook and my extra server home.

“Oh, I get it.Blue Hawaii.”

It wasn’t a voice I recognized. Definitelynotfrom Texas. But it spread as smooth as buttercream frosting down my nervous system. That he knew the reference to my little diner won him huge points in my book.

It was as if I manifested the man into my space. There was absolutely no doubt who was standing in my restaurant. Tall, deliciously athletic, and in a pair of shorts and T-shirt that made it obvious he’d just come from the pool. Holy shit, did I mention his calves? Who knew swimming could dothatto a set of gams?

“It’s the infamous Coach Murray.” I grabbed a menu from the counter and waved to any of the booths along the windows. “You get the King’s treatment—ha! I hadn’t even intended that pun! Not that you know me, but you’ll soon learn I will never pass up a good pun, intentional or not. My last name is King. And this diner is, of course dedicated to the King of Rock and Roll. When I’d said King’s treatment I meant because the choice was yours given you’re my only guest right now but it’s a triple decker doozie for ya.”

He stood stock still, watching me blather on without coming up for air. He threw me off my confident diner chick game and teased out awkward chick who couldn’t shut up.

“Sorry, I’m Priscilla. Owner of Ito Eats.”

God. His eyes. I’d never seen such an unusual color before. They were so incredibly blue. Cerulean almost, with a vivid streak of amber hugging that ring of blue so it couldn’t escape into his pupils. I couldn’t stop staring at them.

“Has anyone ever said your eyes look like gemstones?”

Ten points for fantastically awkward conversations. First the verbal vomit about puns and my last name, and now random facts about gemstones. I was like Forrest Gump and my mouth couldn’t stop running no matter how many people held up signs telling me to.

“I can’t say anyone has ever likened me or a piece of my anatomy to gemstones.” He smiled, running his hand over his lips.

“Not all gemstones. Agate, specifically. It’s a form of quartz. Typically found in Mexico, but sometimes the quarries in Texas get it too. But agate is not nearly as unusual as your eyes. Similar of course. Naturally your eyes and the stone wouldn’t be exactly the same.”

I prayed. No, I begged, prostrate at the altar of whatever being would take pity on me, and mentally gesticulated at the altar of weird, awkward women as the words tumbled out of my mouth that something, anything would stop the Niagran flow of embarrassing shit that couldn’t be stymied from my lips. Thankfully, my big brother’s Spidey senses must have been on high alert. His ring tone blared from my phone at that exact moment.

“I’m so sorry. Take a look at the menu. I’ll be right back.”

My phone was on the inventory shelf in the backroom. Thankfully I picked up just as the last ring before my voicemail ended.

“Jesse, hi!”

“Are you okay?” He asked, “You’re out of breath and you never call me by my name when I call. What’s up?”

“Oh god no. I’m fine. I just was taking an order and my phone was in the stock room.”

“I could have left a message. It wasn’t urgent. Just calling to check on you. See how the diner is doing. You know, the normal brotherly shit.”

“You actually just saved me from the world’s most awkward conversation,” I whispered, craning my neck to see if Presley could hear me.

“You? Awkward? Never.” He laughed. “So who is the recipient of this conversation.”

“New guy in town.” I huffed, pushing my hair out of my face. “I actually have him as my Secret Santa, but he doesn’t know that. It’s definitely serendipitous he’s here because I can find out a little about him. I probably scared him away though with a history of the gemstone agate.”

“I don’t think I want to know.” His laugh only deepened.

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