Page 68 of Only in Your Dreams

I peruse my list. “I’ll start easy. Maybe purge my closet or something.”

“Yeah?”

I nod. “The thought of wearing anything Connor bought me makes my skin crawl. I’ll have to save up a few paychecks to afford to replace it all, but my parents left a few old things of mine with Parker. It should be enough to tide me over.” I pause, staring thoughtfully at the water. “Maybe I’ll get a second job. Help speed up the process.”

“You’d work two jobs?”

I shrug. “If that’s what I need to do. And I might have an idea where to start.”

Chapter 16

Melody

“Now, this might confuse you a touch. The serving trays go all the way over here. See? Over here.”

I rub my lips together, trying to keep as straight a face as I can as Wynn Sheffield mimes transporting a round tray from a spot by the industrial latte machine on the counter, to the tall stack of trays by the pass window.

“See? They go over here now.”

I suck in my cheeks. “Aye, aye, Captain.”

New tray location or not, the nostalgia slaps me in the face as Wynn passes me a worn black apron, equipped with a tiny spiral-bound notebook and pen. Paired with the black skirt and peach polo t-shirt withSheffield’s Dineracross the back, it’s exactly the same uniform he had me wearing when I served here over my high school summers.

Back then, I’d be at the colorful diner for family breakfast, even on my days off. Wynn himself would often sit with us, entertaining us with the latest town gossip, of which he was an avid follower.

“Now, do I need to train you on the coffee machine again, or do you think you have the hang of it?”

That’s assuming I’d had the hang of it the last time I worked here. I eye the massive stainless-steel machine. This thing used to be my absolute nemesis. I could never figure out the damn milk frother, but I was safe as long as I stayed on drip coffee duty.

“On second thought, let me give you a refresher,” Wynn says, watching me like he remembers exactly how many times I managed to detonate frothy milk bombs at this very counter.

“Probably for the best.” I even pull out my notebook to take notes as he demonstrates.

See? I am the picture of dedication.

So determined to get my life on track that I now officially work two jobs, splitting my Mondays to Saturdays between Sheffield’s and my regular gig.

“I’ll give you as many breakfast and dinner shifts as I can,” Wynn says over the whistle of the damned frother. “But seeing as you’re only part time and temporary around here, you’ll probably get stuck with the lunchtime crowd more than anything. I gotta make sure to keep my regular team happy. But I’m afraid it may mean lousier tips for you.”

I stick my pen into my ponytail in a move that very much makes me feel sixteen again. “I’ll take whatever you give me, Wynn. Honestly, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you helping me out.”

“Never mind that. It’s nice to see your face in town again.” Wynn hands me the canister of freshly frothed milk. “Now, see this? There’s still a tad bit of milk at the bottom, which you’d pour into the cup before you scoop in some of the froth. Think you can manage a couple of practice rounds?”

There’s precisely no way I can manage anything when it comes to this machine. “And if I screw it up?”

Wynn pats my shoulder, moving for the lineup at the register. “Then you try again. And if that doesn’t work, I’m just a froth dripping from your hair holler away.”

Ah. He really does remember.

“Okay, you merciless contraption,” I mutter at the coffee machine, pouring fresh milk into the stainless-steel canister Wynn handed me. “You and I are getting along this time, if it’s the last thing I do.”

I poise the canister under the frother. Hit the button—

My eyeballs are greeted by the retina-singeing flash of a camera just as a stream of cold milk backfires on me. I slap off the machine.

Parker grins at me from the other side of the counter, turning his phone toward Summer, who gives a delighted laugh at an apparent photo of me with milk streaming down my face.

“Really, guys?”

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