Monday morning dawned and the sun remained hidden behind a bank of clouds. It wouldn’t rain, the forecast had promised, but the sun wouldn’t show itself until later in the morning.
That didn’t matter to Reece, who was busy making the last preparations before the lunch service began. Mondays were generally busy. It seemed that all of Sugar Cove (and the next towns over) spent their weekends depressed that the café was closed for two days. To make up for it, they stormed the doors as soon as it opened.
The day’s menu was an easy one—chicken and dumplings with green beans and a salad, along with banana pudding for dessert. The salads were made, and all Reece had to do was scoop out the main dishes and place them on plates, as well as grab drinks for the guests.
When she opened the doors at eleven, there was a line of people longer than Reece expected. She blanched but managed to swallow down the panic scrambling up her throat and started seating guests.
But folks were pouring into the café faster than Reece could keep up. She usually plated food while her mother grabbed drinks. Chandler moved back and forth between the kitchen and dining room, helping out wherever she was needed.
But with twenty drink orders, food to plate, and another ten folks just walking in the door, Reece’s face was on fire with anxiety.
She couldn’t keep up. She couldn’t deliver drinks, plate the food, welcome people and get everything done in a jiffy.
She’d just sat the last table and was preparing to head into the kitchen to somehow make thirty drinks and prepare food when a deep Southern drawl said from behind her, “You look like you could use some help.”
She turned and there stood Ted, all broad shoulders, sparkling eyes and sandy hair. His brow was wrinkled in concern, which Reece found adorable even though she should’ve been freaking out about being overwhelmed at the café.
“Where’s your help?” he asked.
Reece blinked. Oh, that’s right. She was supposed to talk to him, to respond. “They, uh, had stuff.” They had stuff? Wow. She was never going to win conversationalist of the year with replies like that.
He rolled up his sleeves, revealing droolworthy muscled forearms. “Let me help.”
She wanted to laugh. It was the most absurd request ever—Ted helping her through the first lunch service. But as Reece glanced around and spotted folks drumming their fingers impatiently, she realized his offer was a blessing.
“Okay, come and help. Be sure to wash your hands first.”
“I’ve been in a kitchen or two,” he said, not unkindly.
After Ted washed his hands, she steered him to the food warmers. “Every person gets a plate that has one scoop of chicken and dumplings and one scoop of green beans. Then you also give them a salad, they’re here”—she pointed to the refrigerator—“there are thirty folks out there. I’ll get the drinks while you plate the food.”
“Got it,” he said with a smile. “Should I put on a hair net?”
Even though he was serious, she couldn’t help but smile. “I think your hair is short enough that you don’t need one.”
He clapped his hands. “Let’s get to it.”
As Reece poured sweet teas, Ted diligently did as she’d told him, making plate after plate of food. When there wasn’t any more room on the counter for plates of chicken and dumplings, he said, “Let me take these out. Who do they go to?”
“Everyone.”
As he picked up plates and moved past her, she continued pouring drinks until the guests were served. Then she delivered plates that Ted was making.
She’d pick them up and return, saying, “We need ten more,” then that become, “six more,” and finally, “two more and it’s time to move to dessert.”
His brows rose. “Dessert?”
She laughed. “You’ve eaten here before; you know how it goes. Everyone gets dessert.”
“You got it, boss.”
Once all the main courses were out, Reece opened the big refrigerator door. “Here’s dessert, already dished up.”
The banana puddings were dropped into small glass dessert bowls with slender stems and were each topped with fresh whipped cream.
“My stomach’s rumbling just looking at these,” he told her with a wink.
Her own stomach flip-flopped. “No time to eat yet, mister. We’ve got customers.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he joked, but Reece couldn’t tamp down her wide grin.
What was she doing? Ted was off-limits. But right now he was saving her from a disastrous lunch service, so she was thankful.
When all the banana puddings were delivered, she sat on a stool in the kitchen with a heavy sigh. Ted joined her and crossed his arms.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve worked that hard in a kitchen,” he confessed.
She quirked a brow. “You’ve worked in a kitchen?”
“Oh yeah. I worked in the bar’s kitchen, saved my money and was friends with the owner.” He glanced away, giving Reece an excellent view of his profile. It was impossible not to admire it. “The owner never had a son, and so he took me under his wing, and when he was ready to sell the place, he gave it to me for a steal.”
“I didn’t know that.”
He nodded. “Well, we never went out on that date we were supposed to, so how could you?”
His voice teased, but his eyes were serious. Heat creeped up her cheeks, and shame burned in her gut. “Right. Well, my loss, right?”
Before he could answer, she jumped up, “I bet folks are ready to check out.”
He rose as well. “What do you need me to do?”
“Clear plates?” she asked bashfully, hating to put him to even more work when he’d done so much already. “I’ll ring people up.”
“It would be my pleasure,” he practically purred, which made a shiver rock down her spine. It was wrong how her body reacted to this guy. Just wrong.
She swallowed in a poor attempt to put moisture back in her dry mouth and headed out to take payment from customers.
While she did so, every few moments her gaze would land on Ted, who was bussing tables like a pro. Where had he found the rag to wipe them down?
He looked up from where he hovered over a table, and his gaze locked on hers. Though her first instinct was to look away, instead Reece smiled.
And Ted smiled back.
Her heart stuttered and she only ripped her gaze away when the next person in line stepped up to pay their bill.
When it was all said and done and the last person was gone, she slumped onto a cane-backed chair with a loud sigh.
Ted sat across from her, but he didn’t slump, nor did he sigh.
She looked at him, really looked at him without fear and trepidation in her heart. “I owe you one.”
“You don’t owe me anything. It was fun.”
A grin spread across her face. “It was fun, wasn’t it?”
“That’s what you live for in this business, the rush. It’s fun moving that fast, getting all the food out.”
“But it’s also good when it’s over.”
“That is true.” He studied her for a moment. “There are a lot of things that I could’ve been in life. My dad wanted me to be a lawyer like him, but I never wanted that. I wanted to do something else. I suppose it’s good he didn’t push me too hard into law.”
“Your dad, too?”
His brows lifted. “Let me guess—yours had your life all planned out for you, too?”
“I was supposed to be a doctor.”
He released a low whistle. “A doctor? You must be smart.”
“Hardly.” He shot her a skeptical look. “Okay, so I was smart enough to get into med school, but I hated it. Left a few months ago.”
“And how’d your father take it?”
She gulped down a knot that had lodged in her throat. “He didn’t. He passed away.”
“I’m sorry.”
She waved him away. “It’s okay. Well, it’s not, but we’re managing.” Reece had no intention of going into her father’s history with Ted. She hardly knew the man. “If he’d lived, I’m sure he never would’ve allowed me to quit. Jack Rigby would’ve marched me back to Tulane, pushed me through the door and locked it behind me.”
“Where you would have pined for another life.”
A laugh bubbled from her throat. “Exactly.”
Their gazes locked and Reece felt something click inside her. It was a feeling that she desperately wished to ignore.
He studied her closely, and it felt like Ted was memorizing her face, noting every freckle that dotted her nose, how one of her earlobes dipped slightly lower than the other. Reece felt completely exposed to his glance, but she didn’t care because she was doing the same thing to him, learning the lines that etched his forehead and how the tops of his cheeks were slightly flushed.
“I’d still like to take—”
“I’m back,” her mama called as she entered the café.
Reece jumped up from her seat as Ted slowly rose. He clearly didn’t feel like they’d just been caught doing something they shouldn’t have. Which was how she felt, even though they hadn’t done anything inappropriate.
Ginny’s gaze darted from her to Ted. “Sorry that I’m late. Did everything go okay?”
“Thanks to Ted.” She gestured toward him. “Mama, this is Ted.”
“Ted Talmadge, Mrs. Rigby,” he said, taking her mother’s hand with the backside facing the ceiling and giving it a slight squeeze. “Nice to meet you. I just happened to be in the neighborhood and saw that your daughter could use a hand.”
“Is that so?” she replied, widening her eyes at Reece in a look that basically asked if this was the guy she had mentioned before.
“He was a huge help,” she confessed. “If Ted hadn’t shown up, I would’ve been underwater.”
“It was my pleasure,” he told her, a slight smile lifting one corner of his mouth and his eyes holding a warmth that sent a sizzle all the way to her toes. “You’re welcome to put me on payroll.”
Both women laughed and Ted started to walk out the door. “Wait,” Reece said. “You didn’t eat lunch.”
He winked. “That’s okay. I got what I came for.”
With that, he said goodbye and slipped out of the café. Her mother frowned. “If he didn’t eat, what did he come here to do?”
“I don’t know,” she replied, even though Reece had the distinct feeling that his visit had very little to do with food and everything to do with her.