Friends Like These

by Carina Taylor

  I nodded then turned to Reggie, the cook. “What’s going on, Reggie?”

  “Brent had a court date today, and Gene called in sick, too, so it’s only me. The grill quit working, and Layton set a plastic tote on the hot stovetop. It melted over everything. I have nothing to cook on until we fix the grill and clean the stove.”

  I wondered what Brent had a court date for since he hadn’t bothered to mention it to me, but I kept that thought to myself. “The plastic tote explains that awful smell. You can’t cook anything without the grill?”

  Reggie shook his head.

  Page squeezed my hand, then pulled away. She marched to the sink, scrubbed her hands and arms, then jerked an apron off the peg on the wall and pulled it over her head. She grabbed an extra golf cap from the top of a shelf and slipped it on, tugging her ponytail out the backside and yanking the cap low over her forehead.

  I continued watching her as I debated what to do. She snatched a menu off of the small shelf that held extras. She backed up to me and asked, “Mind tying this up for me?”

  Since I still couldn’t figure out what she was doing, I grabbed the apron strings and tied it in a neat bow around her waist while she studied the menu.

  “Hey, you!” She called to Reggie, the chef—if we could call him that. “Are you set for salads?”

  He looked at her with a stunned expression but nodded.

  “Good.” She pointed to the two servers standing on the other side of the counter looking ready to hide in the cooler. “You two, we’re pushing salads. If anyone asks, it’s Heart Healthy Awareness Day, and if anyone asks for a burger or something else fried, point them back to the salad menu. Tell them it’s in honor of Lucifer’s memory if you have to.”

  “What if they give you a hard time?” I asked. “It’s a funeral for the snake you killed.”

  She shrugged. “I’ll pour water and bus tables. Hopefully they won’t notice me.”

  She scooped up a freshly poured water pitcher in one hand, and a salad menu in the other then disappeared into the restaurant.

  “That was—wow,” Kent said as he stared after her.

  “Devious. Brilliant. Commandeering. A bit tyrannical,” I said with a smile.

  “I want to ask her out, but now I’m oddly terrified of her,” Kent mused.

  I glared at him. “If anyone’s going to ask her out, it’s going to be me.”

  He groaned. I removed my jacket and rolled up my shirt sleeves. After washing my hands, I slipped on an apron and tossed another to Kent. “We’re serving today. And we’d better have some new potential hires here in the morning, or this is what you’ll be doing for the foreseeable future.”

  I grabbed a salad menu off the shelf and a warm carafe of coffee.

  Time to salvage the afternoon.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  PAGE

  “Thank you.” Noah’s low voice rumbled behind me. “You didn’t have to help us like that, especially after everything that happened to you on the course today.”

  We had finished serving the snake mourners, and Noah had closed the restaurant two hours early. I turned around from where I stood in the front lobby of The Garden. “You know, you almost sound like you’re feeling sorry about it, even though I killed your main attraction.”

  He nodded slowly. “I thought I would have a heart attack when Lucifer struck out at you.”

  He was worried about me even though I’d killed his pet. It was sweet and selfless of him. “Thank you for getting me away from the snake earlier. It was making me sick looking at it.”

  “Of course, I understand.”

  I swayed back and forth as I studied Noah’s smile—even that was perfect. “Well, I’d better go find Tricia and Mike.”

  “The couple you were golfing with?”

  “Yes. They’re my ride home.”

  “They left.”

  I shook my head. Leave it to Tricia and Mike to forget that I rode with them. I should have flown to Chicago on my days off, except then I would have missed meeting Noah.

  Okay, I was glad I hadn’t gone to Chicago this week. But that still meant I needed to figure out how to get home. Ten minutes away by car, but I didn’t want to pay for an Uber. Three miles wasn’t that far. When I visited New York City, I walked everywhere to save on taxi fare. I’m sure I could walk three miles in under an hour.

  “Good luck with your golf course. I’m sorry about killing your mascot. I’m not sorry for the snake, but I am sorry for you.”

  He smiled at that. “Thank you.”

  Reluctantly looking away from his face, I turned to leave.

  He stopped me. “Wait, do you have a ride?”

  “No, but it’s not far.”

  He took a step towards me. The soft scent of cinnamon enveloped him. He shoved his hands into his pants’ pockets and asked, “How far is not far?”

  “Only three or four...miles,” I whispered the last bit.

  He frowned and dug around in his pockets. “You’re not walking that far in this heat by yourself. I’ll drive you.” His eyes flashed as he searched my face. “Unless you don’t trust me. In that case, I’ll order you an Uber.”

  I bit my lip. “I trust you. Besides, I texted my mom your name, remember?”

  He grinned at that. “I remember.”

  He pulled his keys out of his pocket and opened the door for me.

  “Noah!”

  We both turned to see Kent rushing into the lobby. “The lawyer is here. He said he had more paperwork for you to sign.”

  Noah muttered under his breath. “I’d forgotten about our appointment. It has to be today?”

  He looked at me while Kent answered him, “Yes, it’s the last part of the transfer.”

  Noah regarded my face for a moment, then sighed and tossed his keys to Kent. “Here. Page needs a ride home. You can take my car.” He turned back to me and said in a low voice, “I’m sorry I can’t drive you home. But I hope I’ll see you again. Soon.”

  He smiled, and his eyes sparkled when I smiled back. The energy between us was real—not something I imagined. We would see each other again; I’d make sure of it. Hopefully, it wouldn’t involve golfing or snakes the next time.

  I followed Kent out to the parking lot, mildly—greatly—upset that Noah wouldn’t be the one taking me home.

  Once Kent and I sat in Noah’s car, I told him the general direction of my house, then turned the air conditioner up and looked out the window at the passing scenery. Something bumped my seat. Kent’s hand rested on my headrest. “Shoulder problems?”

  He just smiled. I’m sure he thought it was a charming smile. It wasn’t—not to me, not compared to Noah’s genuine and unpracticed smile.

  “So, have you lived in Charlesville long?” he asked as he glanced between me and the road.

  “Yes...”

  “You go into Nola much?”

  I shrugged. “Do you need directions?”

  His fingers brushed the back of my neck. I felt nothing. Maybe a faint chill. Not like the electric current I’d felt when I held Noah’s hand earlier.

  “Whatever it is you think you’re doing—it’s not working.”

  He scowled but quickly smoothed his face into a smile again. “I’m not trying to do anything.”

  I glared at him. “Good because you don’t stand a chance.”

  He tapped a finger against my shoulder. “Are you sure? Because I can be a lot of fun.”

  “Not to me.” I reached behind my head and grabbed his wrist, then shoved it back towards him. “Listen, Clark.”

  “It’s Kent.”

  “Whatever. Your lines might work on someone else, but I’ve been fed every line there ever was. Heck, I might have even invented some lines myself, so no. I’ll pass on letting you ‘show me Nola.’”

  He stared straight ahead with a grim set to his mouth.

  “Where did I go wrong?” He asked as he pulled to a stop in front of my house. “Usually, my game’s pretty good.”
>
  I grabbed the door handle but then answered him before I got out. “First off, Noah caught my attention first. I’m not interested in anyone else now. Second, you’re a creep when you touch someone’s neck and shoulders. Reminds me of a reptile, and I have a bad history with those.”

  He glared at me. “Why don’t you tell me how you really feel?”

  “Oh, okay, I—”

  “Never mind, get out.”

  I grinned and jumped from the car. “Thanks for the ride, Clark!”

  I hurried down the path that led to my house in the backyard. Kent wasn’t a creep. Sleazy, but not creepy. He just needed to be knocked down a few pegs, and I didn’t mind doing it. Who knows, maybe someday he’d thank me for it.

  That evening I sat down at my desk to sketch. I hadn’t planned what I was going to draw. Instead, I sat there with a pencil in hand as I reminisced about the events of the day.

  My hand decided to sketch Noah.

  After nearly being eaten by a snake that was longer than my car, I thought I’d be a little more consumed with terror. Instead, I was too busy thinking about the golf course owner with a twinkle in his eye. He’d seemed so serious as we talked in his office. Then I realized he was being sweet and trying to keep me away from the crazy people. He seemed so proper—and in need of some loosening up. Once he’d relaxed around me, he started smiling more and more. I knew he needed more of that.

  When he’d explained about the trouble with the golf course and gaining new members, I knew he needed help. He didn’t seem like the over-sharing kind—unlike me—so it felt even more special that he’d opened up to me. While he hadn’t said it in so many words, I knew he was in trouble.

  I had killed his only attraction. While I didn’t feel bad for defending myself, I felt terrible that I had taken away the one thing that brought new business to the golf course. I didn’t agree with Noah’s business model because there had to be better ways to attract members than a snake. Maybe he just needed to take one of those online courses that taught you everything you needed to know about marketing in thirty-minutes. It’d probably be beneficial to him. I’d have to tell him next time I saw him.

  I wasn’t looking forward to mentioning the snake again. Noah seemed to be soft-hearted. He’d seemed a little distraught at the snake’s death. The way he’d been rubbing his face—almost as though he were holding back tears.

  I wanted to make it all better for him.

  The restaurant crisis had sealed the deal. The way he had treated his staff kindly, even in the midst of a stressful situation, had revealed all I needed to know about his character. He hadn’t yelled at his incompetent staff. He hadn’t passed the blame to everyone around him. He hadn’t strangled Kent for not fixing the problem. He’d shown far more self-control in that situation than I would have. He was the reason I wanted to help.

  When he stepped out of the kitchen with rolled-up shirtsleeves wearing an apron and carrying a coffee carafe, I had asked myself, had anyone ever looked that good before? Probably not. His piercing blue eyes, styled hair, and muscled forearms were a lethal combination. The apron stretched against his chest—as if it were big enough to protect his crisp white shirt from a stain or splatter.

  As we served the overfilled dining hall, no one made the connection that I was the girl who killed the snake. I had pulled that cap low over my eyes; it was a wonder I didn’t spill anything.

  Noah was careful to steer me away from a few people in the room—the ones who seemed the most upset about Lucifer dying. Noah took the plates from me anytime we got close to the table where the eulogist sat. He told me he didn’t want me to have to face him that day after everything. I thought it was strangely sweet and protective.

  Which brought me to a conclusion: I was going to help Noah. A guy like him deserved to succeed.

  I propped my sketch of him next to my family photo, his strong jaw a prominent feature in the drawing.

  I wouldn’t mind looking at that every day.

  Now, all I had to do was figure out how to bring more business to Noah’s golf course. Luckily, I had the perfect cousin to call. My cousin Kylie worked for a marketing company called SV Marketing in Lampton, which was only an hour from me. She would have excellent marketing advice.

  I pulled my phone out of my pocket, set it on speakerphone, and placed it on the table next to my pencils. It rang while I organized my paint supplies.

  “Hello?” A woman answered the phone.

  “Hey, Kylie! How’s Hagen?” I asked.

  “I’m doing great; thanks so much for checking up on me instead of my fiancé,” she complained.

  “Ah, well, I know you’re fine. I only wanted to know if you’d shoved him in your garbage can yet.”

  “Not yet, but he’s almost finished building my pergola, so he might outlive his usefulness.”

  I grinned. Kylie was the nicest of us Boone’s. The mothering cousin: she would feed you, take care of you, encourage you, and was generally more responsible than the rest of us. That is...until she met her fiancé. She’d gone full Boone on him in an all-out prank war.

  “So, I was calling to ask you about some marketing techniques.”

  “Oh no, what are you up to now?” She groaned.

  “What do you mean? Why do I have to be up to something?”

  “Are you trying to sell your paintings again?”

  “No, nobody seems to like my Picasso replications.” Not that I tried that hard.

  “That’s okay; you’re very talented at other things.”

  “Besides, I’m saving all of those to give to you and Hagen when you get married.”

  Something crashed on her end of the line. I could hear her voice call farther from the phone. “Hagen! She’s trying to give us her Picasso paintings.”

  I heard a deep voice in the background answer her. “Oh no, not that. Let’s change our names and move out of the country.”

  “Hilarious, you guys, I can hear you,” I yelled, even though I knew to expect Hagen’s teasing. He could hold his own with the Boone family but was sweet to Kylie, which was why I liked the guy.

  “Okay, okay,” Kylie spoke into the phone again. “What’s the problem? Tell me everything. Hagen went back outside to barbecue.”

  Clearing my throat, I lined up my paintbrushes in size order on the desk. “Say that there was a struggling business. Just as a random example—an unsuspecting soul accidentally destroyed the only thing that drew in new customers. What would you do?”

  “Wait, that made zero sense. Why don’t you go ahead and tell me what you did?”

  I sighed. I guess there wouldn’t be any way to avoid telling her the whole story. After making her promise not to tell Hagen, I told her the story about going golfing with Aunt Tricia and Uncle Mike, including killing the snake and meeting Noah.

  “I’ve heard about that golf course. Dave, my neighbor, told me about it.”

  “So, are you saying I killed any chance for a successful golf course?”

  “No, it’s just that’s the way it’s known. One of the best marketing techniques is to have something unique. An experience you can’t get anywhere else. I’ll admit, using an oversized cottonmouth is unconventional, dangerous, and the worst idea ever, but it seemed to work. I don’t golf, but even I’ve heard of The Garden.”

  I was the worst person in the world. Noah’s golf course really was in trouble because of me.

  “Maybe we could find him an Adam and Eve instead of a Lucifer.”

  Kylie laughed. “Please, don’t be Eve.”

  “I won’t, but Noah would make a great-looking Adam.”

  “I think you should just let it go, Page. There was nothing else you could have done.”

  “Oh, there wasn’t? Why didn’t I run? Why didn’t I pay attention to my surroundings and the fact I got close to that tall patch of reeds? What if the snake wasn’t trying to kill me, and it was just trying to get to the grass to sun itself?”

  “You’re going to make me
have to repeat myself, aren’t you? There was nothing else you could have done. You were out of options. You could have let that snake bite you, but then you’d be dead. Stop blaming yourself and find a way to move past this. Now, I’ve got to take some muffins to Dave before Hagen finds them and eats them all.”

  “Thanks for the help—and the pep talk. Love you.”

  “Love you, too. Talk to you later.”

  I hung up the phone and flopped on my bed. My small cottage had an open floor plan, making it easy to stare at the sketch of Noah that sat on my desk. I didn’t want to paint—I wanted to lay there and think about how to make this up to Noah.

  Kylie had told me to stop blaming myself and move past this. How did I move past it when I knew I’d doomed Noah’s whole business? He so calmly dealt with the situation in the kitchen, not once getting mad. He was so good at getting me off the golf course when a crowd had gathered. He didn’t even lose his temper when he found out half of his staff didn’t show up.

  I was mad for him. He shouldn’t have to put up with any of that. Too many things went wrong that day. A missing chef and wait staff? A broken grill? Someone inciting a snake eulogy? Lame excuses for not coming to work? How much bad luck could a guy have? Bad luck or not, I was going to bring him only good luck from then on out.

  It was time to brainstorm.

  CHAPTER SIX

  NOAH

  Opening the window to let in fresh air before the weather grew hot for the afternoon, I turned around to find Kent standing just inside my office door. We’d just finished interviewing candidates for the wait staff and had hired two more servers. I was still waiting to hear back if I got the chef I wanted. After reading my email, Xavier knew of someone right away and put me in touch with the guy. Kent had already found a real golf pro who would come in for an interview the next week.

  Things were looking up.

  “Page dropped something off for you. She said she didn’t want to have a guilty conscience, and so she found the perfect mascot for you.”

  Page had stopped by. It had been three whole days since the Lucifer incident.