And she could go home.
Home.
That she didn’t really know where home was had her smile faltering there for a moment, but she’d figure that out, too. Soon as she got this serving thing down.
Since Holly had burned just about everything she’d ever attempted to cook, she decided to go with the theory that it was late afternoon by now, and therefore between lunch and dinner, when no food was required.
And what would she do about dinnertime? Well, she’d cross that bridge when she got to it. For now, though, she’d been hiding out in the kitchen long enough. She picked up a pitcher of ice water, pasted a smile on her face and headed out to the lion’s den-er, dining area. Show time.
The first thing she did was scan the counter.
Not that she was looking for the tall, rugged and annoyingly handsome sheriff, because she wasn’t.
And anyway, he wasn’t there. A good thing, because he both distracted and flustered her.
And no one was allowed to live once they’d flustered her.
She was doubly glad she hadn’t let him help her because she really hated to be indebted to anyone. Holly Stone made her own way in this world, and she always would.
The tables had practically emptied out, not a positive sign. With her smile still glued in place, she walked to the closet table and nodded to the man who sat there glaring at her.
He weighed 250 pounds minimum, and looked as if he lifted cars for a living. His striped uniform shirt was streaked with grease and the tag on his right collarbone said his name was Dan.
“Hello, Dan,” she said in what she hoped was a pleasant voice. She’d read somewhere people liked to be called by name. She started to fill up his water.
“I wanted food,” he said. “An hour ago.”
“I know,” she said in her nicest voice. “But there’s a small problem with that. There won’t be any more food served until dinnertime. Not today.”
“What?” He was not only unpleasantly surprised, but angry on top of that. “You’re kidding me. What kind of restaurant doesn’t serve food?”
This didn’t bode well for her tip. She kept pouring, determined to make things okay. “Well, you see-”
She broke off when he let out a high-pitched, very girly scream and stood up, dancing around, flailing his arms, looking like Tinkerbell on steroids.
She’d overfilled his cup. Ice water right in his lap.
Well, darn it, he’d distracted her! She whirled to grab a towel off the counter-and wasn’t it ever so wonderful to see that Riley was back, sitting there as if he didn’t have a worry in the world.
“Problem?” he asked.
Holly ignored him to rush back to her dancing customer. He had a huge water stain across the front of his pants. “Here.” She tossed the towel at him because she wasn’t about to dab at his lap herself.
It hit him in the face.
He stopped bouncing, yanked the towel away from his mouth and glared at her. “You,” he said.
He towered over her, really, really unhappy about having ice water poured over his…parts.
“Now, Dan.” Riley stood up, a friendly smile on his face. “It was just an accident.”
Dan didn’t respond to that, just gave Holly one of those looks that made her nervous for her own body parts.
“And with it being such a hot one outside,” Riley continued easily, “I’d think all that cold water would cool you right off, just like a nice swim in a stream. Don’t you think, Dan?”
Dan drew in a deep breath before he grimaced at Riley. “Yeah, a cool stream.”
“That’s it. Why don’t you just sit on back down now and relax?”
“Don’t worry, Sheriff.” He shook his head. “I like you too much to cause any trouble here. You can sit back down, too.”
Riley nodded and smiled warmly as he did just that. “Good man, Dan.”
“But I ain’t coming back. Not without Marge serving me. She never spilled water on me that made my d-” He broke off and cleared his throat. “I miss her already.”
Holly was just relieved that she was still among the living, and that Dan didn’t do anything else but finish drying off before walking out.
Without tipping her.
The entire room had fallen silent, which wasn’t saying much since she had only three other tables with people at them.
Oh, and the grinning sheriff-she couldn’t forget him.
Without a word, she went into the kitchen. What an idiot, she told herself. Spilling water like a nervous little ninny. She wasn’t nervous!
And she wasn’t a ninny! She was Holly Stone, woman with nerves of steel.
Determined, she searched the huge refrigerator and came up with a fresh apple pie-thank God. Renewed with hope, she went back out to offer it to her dwindling customer base.
“Looking good,” Riley said as she passed him.
She wondered if he meant the pie or her, but then she figured he must have meant the pie because she was still wearing hot pink over red silk, for God’s sake, not to mention she was beginning to sweat.
She looked about as far from good as you could get.
“Uh…Holly?” Riley called out to her. “Holly!”
He spoke earnestly, but knowing he just wanted to rub her failures in, she kept going. With her hands full she couldn’t see her feet, and in the aisle between the counter and the tables, she tripped over a lump that screeched “meow!”
The pie flew through the air and landed on the lap of the woman with the perpetually slipping glasses.
Mindy, the librarian, she told Holly, swiping the pie off her glasses.
She didn’t tip when she left, either.
On her hands and knees, Holly scrubbed at the floor, trying not to acknowledge the self-pity threatening to swallow her whole.
Only three feet away from her were the long legs of the sheriff. He still sat, calm as you please, at the counter.
With all her might, she wished she’d spilled the pie on him.
Harry, who was freshly awoken from his nap, thanks to her, leaped to the counter. Right in front of her, only inches away from Riley’s drink, he sat down and began to wash himself.
Oh, perfect. Her customers were dwindling fast, and she had a big, fat, ugly cat sitting on the counter, cleaning his paws.
Disgusted, she stood and tried to shoo him off.
Clearly insulted, Harry leaped again, aiming for the closest table. According to Murphy’s Law, this was naturally one of the few tables actually occupied by a paying guest.
The man there stroked Harry. “Don’t worry about that mean woman who hates cats,” he crooned, glaring at Holly.
From behind Holly came something that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. Whirling, she glared at Riley, but he was just sitting there, looking guileless.
She sent him a long look for good measure, but he simply leaned back, stretched his lean, toned body out, put his hands behind his head and winked at her.
The man who Harry had practically attacked was heading for the front door.
“I’m sorry,” she called, but he just lifted a hand and kept going.
He stiffed her, too.
Let’s see…she’d probably just cost the café an entire day’s wages, all in an hour. Had to be a personal record for failure, and exhausted at just the thought, she sank into the nearest chair.
And sat on Harry.
RILEY WOKE UP a hungry man. Really hungry.
He hadn’t gotten lucky last night. Holly had closed Café Nirvana-his usual dinner haunt-early. He could have whipped up something in his own kitchen, except for the fact that he really hated to cook. He could run an entire ranch practically by himself. He could patrol a county that had more square miles than he could count. He could bring peace to a room faster than he could blink, with just a smile and some sweet words, and enjoy all of it.