When her team did indeed crush it in the second half of the game, Parker sent over her drink and watched with pained fascination as she sucked from the straw, wishing like hell Colorado had just one fucking beach.
Chapter Six
“These potatoes are freezing!”
Tamsen held back a sigh, cheeks hurting from the tight, wide smile she’d forced her expression into. This was the fifth complaint this table had made about their food, and she was at the end of her rope.
“I’m so sorry, sir.” Sorry she couldn’t toss his water in his face. The glass of water he made her replace twice because there wasn’t enough ice in it. Who the hell counted ice cubes? “But you did order our garlic herb potato salad, which is traditionally served cold.”
The man’s face soured, his frown morphing into a scowl as he glared. Whatever, buddy. If he thought a little scowl would intimidate her, he better think again. She’d been a server for years. She’d been yelled at, spit at, threatened, and once a customer even threw her purse at Tamsen. Nothing fazed her anymore.
“I’m the customer,” Sourpuss insisted. “That means I’m always right, and I want my potatoes hot.”
If she ever found the person who coined the phrase “the customer is always right,” she was going to drown them in a vat of ranch dressing. Ridiculous. The customers liked to order steak well done and ask for crème brûlée without the caramelization. They were far from always right.
“I can ask the chef to heat them for you if you’d like, sir.” She drew her eyebrows together, affecting a sympathetic expression, because as much as she wanted to flip this guy the bird, she needed the tips. Not that she imagined Mr. Sourpuss was going to leave her a very good one. Or one at all. Still, she liked her job, and shoving this guy’s face in his cold potatoes until they warmed up from all the hot air he was filled with would probably get her fired.
“Yes, and I expect a discount on our bill for all the trouble we’ve encountered tonight.”
Of course he did.
“I’m a top-rated food site reviewer, you know. I’m sure your manager wouldn’t like for the restaurant to get a one-star review because of your incompetence.”
Her teeth felt like they would crack as she clenched them hard, drawing up all her years of dealing with assholes to keep the smile on her face as she took the man’s plate. Why did customers always blame servers for food issues? She wasn’t the cook.
Besides, her manager knew the score; she wouldn’t care what this jerk said. Everyone and their brother was a “top-rated food site reviewer” these days. The internet was great, but it also made some people feel far more important than they really were.
Self-entitled jackasses.
“I’ll be right back with your warm potatoes, sir.”
The guy grunted as she turned and headed back to the kitchen. The second she swung through the door, she dropped her smile and swore.
“Asshole!”
“Table seven?” Jade asked.
“You know it.” Servers could spot a trouble table a mile away.
Jade grabbed her order from the warming shelf separating the servers from the kitchen staff. “Need any help?”
“Can you help me push the guy off a cliff?”
“Too obvious.” Jade winked with a laugh. “Just drop his fork on the floor before you return his food.”
She chuckled as her friend headed out to her own tables. As much as Tamsen would love to give the guy what he deserved, she’d never intentionally harm someone’s food. They could be the biggest jerk in the world—and he was—but the customers trusted her with their food, and she took that trust seriously. Instead, she’d just call him all the creative four-letter insults she could think of in her head and have Ty heat the guy’s freakin’ food.
“Hey, Ty—”
“No!” Ty pointed his tongs at her from his spot at the grill.
“You didn’t even let me finish.”
He shook his head, focusing on his task as he spoke. “It’s for table seven, and they’ve already complained a million times. Just no.”
“Exaggerate much?” He wasn’t wrong, though. They were the worst, and she hated to ask, but it was the nature of her job. “He just wants his potatoes heated.”
Ty’s frowning, tight mouth dropped open. A look of abject horror filling his face.
“It’s potato salad. It’s not supposed to be warm.”
“I know, but he wants it warm.”
She let out a heavy sigh. It was the last half hour of her shift. The day had been super hectic, which meant the tips were bad, since she’d been running around trying to attend to all her tables…and failing some. She’d never understand where people’s sympathy went when they saw a busy restaurant. Why did they always think their order was more important than the twelve other tables she had? She was doing her best, but it never seemed like enough some days.
“Toss it in the microwave.” Ty motioned to one of the two microwaves lining the far wall on the server side of the kitchen. “I’m sure the asshole’s steak is cold now, too—better to just heat the entire plate.”
Not a bad idea. Plus, she’d get the added satisfaction of knowing the guy’s steak would dry out a little. Not that his sophisticated palette would notice. Warm potato salad. Ugh, her stomach turned just thinking about it.
Making her way to the microwave, she popped the door open and set the plate inside. Then she turned to grab her water, downing half of it in three big gulps, while the food was nuked.
Man, she was exhausted. At least this was her last table for the day and—
Crack!
The loud sound coming from behind her startled her. Turning, she stared in horror as the plate inside the microwave sparked, bolts of what looked like miniature lightning arching across the inside.
No…not the plate sparking. It’s the—
“Fork!”
She mentally kicked herself. In her exhausted haze, she’d forgotten the guy left his fork on the plate and she tossed it in. The metal fork was currently cooking inside the microwave. She had to get it out before—
“Fire!” Ty shouted.
Oh no! No, no, no!
The sparks had become flames, and the flames were consuming the microwave. Panicking, she tossed her water on it, but she’d drunk so much, the bottle hardly contained anything at all. The flames started to flick out the seams of the microwave door. Smoke billowed from the back of the machine, floating to the ceiling, where it set off the restaurant’s fire alarm.
“Shit, shit, shit!” She was going to get in so much trouble for this. She had to do something.
Glancing around, she took a deep breath and cleared the fog of panic from her brain, then spotted the fire extinguisher on the far wall. Racing for it, she pulled it from its stand. She’d never used a fire extinguisher before, but she knew the basics. Pull the pin, aim, squeeze, sweep. She repeated the steps to herself, pulling the pin and squeezing with all her strength.
A jet of white foam ripped from the nozzle, spraying in a wild arch. Dammit, she’d forgotten to grab the nozzle first and aim. White bits of foam shot everywhere, until she grabbed the small hose and pointed it at the microwave. She moved it back and forth until every last lick of fire was extinguished.
“Shit, Tamsen,” Jade said, appearing by her side once the flames were out. “I know that table was a pain, but I didn’t think it was burn down the restaurant bad.”
“I didn’t mean to!”
She winced as she surveyed the results of her carelessness. The microwave was a goner, that was for sure. But it didn’t appear that the fire had damaged anything else. She’d have to spend an hour or so cleaning all this mess. There was no way in hell table seven was tipping now.
“Think his potatoes are hot enough?” Ty chuckled.
She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
At least she’d gotten it all under control before anything worse happened.
“Is everyone okay?” Prisha, the manager on duty, asked as she hurried in to survey the scene. “The fire department is on its way.”
Dammit! She’d spoken too soon.
“I’m so sorry, Prisha.” Tamsen pointed to the ruined microwave. “I was heating up a customer’s order and I accidentally left a fork in there and—”
Prisha sighed, lifting a hand to stop her explanation. Yeah, her coworkers were well versed in Tamsen’s many mess ups. Usually, it was something small and laughable, like accidentally wrapping only spoons and knives with no forks or mixing up the salt and sugar on the shelves when restocking. But this…this was bad.
“It’s okay, Tamsen.” The manager smiled. “Today has been hell; it could have happened to any of us.”
Seemed to happen to her far too often.
“At least no one was injured. I’m going to go check on the customers and offer them some vouchers for free meals.”
Always a crowd pleaser.
“You wait here for the fire department.”
“Do we really need them? I mean, the fire’s out.”
Prisha nodded. “The alarm went off; you know that means the company called them already. Better for them to check things out and give us the all clear.”
Yeah, but the fire department meant firefighters and that meant…well, it didn’t necessarily mean Parker would show up. There was more than one firehouse in Denver. He might not even be on shift today anyway. She had no reason to worry that she was going to embarrass herself in front of him again—
“Denver Fire,” a deep, familiar voice called from beyond the kitchen door.
She winced, knowing her day had just gone from bad to hell in a handbasket.
“In here,” Prisha said, opening the kitchen door. “The fire is out, but it was contained to the microwave over there.”
A crew of five huge, muscled men and one smaller, but no less capable-looking woman, crowded into the kitchen area wearing head-to-toe firefighting gear. And at the front of the crew stood none other than Parker.
Fan-freakin’-tastic.
“Tamsen?” His eyes widened.
“Hey, Parker.” She gave him a little wave and did her best to smile. “So, um, yeah. I might have pulled another me.”
He hurried over to her side, concern filling his eyes. “Are you okay?”
She snorted. Now there was a relative question. “I’m fine, but I’m afraid our microwave is done for.”
She motioned to the charred mess, its door slightly melted and twisted from the heat of the flames. He let out a low whistle as he stepped closer, surveying the scene. The foam had started to melt into a liquid, running everywhere.
“Jade, can you help me with the customers?” Prisha asked.
“Sure.”
They headed out the kitchen door. Ty and the other cooks had stopped their tasks, knowing all the food was now contaminated. Good thing it was the end of the day—there wouldn’t be much revenue lost. In fact, she could have sworn she heard Ty mutter to the prep cook, “Sweet, now we can start cleaning early.” At least he found the bright side to this situation.
The firefighters surrounded the microwave, inspecting the damage and the outlet, doing…whatever the heck they were supposed to do in a situation like this, she supposed. She closed her eyes on a shudder. A heavy weight of exhaustion settled over her like a lead blanket, pressing down.
“Hey.”
She opened her eyes to see Parker standing in front of her, a soft smile on his face.
“You, okay?”
“Physically? Yes. But I’m not sure I can handle one more embarrassment around you. You must think I’m a total klutz.”
He chuckled. “Naw, I heard your coworker. You were just trying to get out of work early for the day. A bit extreme, but hey, whatever works, right?”
She laughed along with his joke, grateful he wasn’t berating her for her silly mess up. Silly, but potentially deadly. The sobering thought made her smile dim.
“I promise I’m not a walking disaster most days. I was just so tired. It’s been a really busy day, and this table kept making all these demands, and I was trying my best to accommodate the jerk. I mean, who the hell wants warm potato salad? And then I just popped the plate in the microwave, not even thinking about the fork, and I swear I’m not a complete—”
“Tamsen, hey.”
He gently gripped her upper arms, staring into her eyes. Those warm brown eyes made her melt as if she’d been dipped in a pool of warm fondue.
“You’re not a walking disaster.”
He reached up with his hand to brush away some foam that must have landed on her cheek during the fray.
“Says you.”
He frowned, eyes turning hard as he spoke. “If someone told you those things, they’re the disaster, not you. Everyone makes mistakes; it happens to the best of us. I’ve got stories of people blowing fingers off with fireworks, burning very sensitive parts of their body while trying to light their farts on fire…”
She laughed, wondering who would think that was a good idea and how the hell they managed to get into a position to accomplish such a feat.
“You’re not a disaster, Tamsen.”
He smiled again, the sight making her breath catch in her throat.
“Thanks.” She let out a sigh of relief. “I needed to hear that, but I am sorry you all got called out here for nothing.”
“Not nothing,” one of the firefighters added. “It’s our job, even if a badass has already put the fire out. Well done, by the way.”
She squinted. The guy looked familiar. He was one of the firefighters who had come to her rescue with the plaster incident. And now, too, she supposed. “Ward, right?”
“You got it, dude.” He grinned and gave her a wink.
“Ward!” the female firefighter called out. “Get your ass in gear. We gotta go talk to the manager.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming. Where’s the fire, Díaz?” He laughed at his own joke. “Oh right, it’s already out.”
“Hilarious.” The woman—Díaz—rolled her eyes, her tone deadpan. “You’re a laugh riot.”
“You just have no sense of humor.”
She ignored him and glanced at Tamsen and Parker. “Kincaid, we’re all good here. I’m just going to go over the report with the manager. Ma’am.”
Tamsen nodded back to the woman and watched as all the firefighters made their way out the swinging kitchen door into the restaurant. All but one.
“Um, so yeah, thanks for coming to my rescue. Again.”
He shrugged. “Seems to me you didn’t need any rescuing. Looks like you handled things fairly well.”
The destroyed microwave and soggy serving area would disagree with him.
“Well, thank you anyway, and I would really appreciate it if you didn’t tell your mother about this.” At his confused look, she clarified. “If you tell her, she’ll tell my dad, and then he’ll get all worried over nothing and it’ll be a big thing and I just—”
“Got it,” Parker said with a small laugh. “My lips are sealed.”
She wished he’d seal his lips over hers.
Oops! Those were the exact naughty thoughts she was trying to avoid around this man. Kind of hard to do when he kept constantly coming to her rescue. Although, like he said, he hadn’t rescued her this time. She’d put the flames out—the flames she started—but still, if she kept getting into such compromising situations around him, she was going to have to change her name and move to the south of France. Which would be terrible, considering she couldn’t speak French.
“You sure you’re all right?”
She nodded. “Tired, embarrassed, and my coworkers are never going to let me live this down, but I’m good. Noth
ing a hot bath and a good night’s rest can’t cure.”
And maybe some accident-proof insurance for her life. Yeah, where could she buy some of that?
“Well then.” He moved in a bit closer until his chest brushed against hers. “I hope you enjoy your bath.”
She’d enjoy it a lot more if he were there with her.
No! Naughty brain. Stop thinking those thoughts.
His hand came out to brush more foam off her cheek, only this time he lingered, stroking her skin with the rough pad of his thumb. The contrast of texture made her knees weak and her insides go all gooey. It took every ounce of self-control not to grip his fire jacket and haul him into her so she could kiss him until neither one of them could see straight.
But she didn’t.
Because she’d already made one bad choice today. She’d filled her quota.
“Kincaid.” Ward popped his head into the kitchen. “Time to roll, dude.”
Much to her disappointment, he dropped his hand and stepped away. For the best, really, no matter how much her body screamed to grab him and kiss him.
“See ya round.”
“Bye, Parker. Hopefully next time won’t be so…disastrous.”
He grinned. “With you, Tamsen, it’s always exciting.”
Then he followed his crewmate out the door. Warmth filled her chest at his words. Exciting. Not a hot mess or accident prone or even a walking disaster. No, Parker thought she was exciting.
How about that.
Chapter Seven
“Dad,” Tamsen called out as she entered her father’s house. “You home? I brought dinner.”
Thomas Hayes popped his head out from the kitchen. “Pumpkin, I was going to cook.”
Precisely why she’d brought dinner. Tamsen loved her father. He was a great dad, wonderful person, but a horrible cook. One of the reasons she took the cooking elective offered in her middle school was so they could stop eating frozen pizzas for dinner every night.
“Ty sent me home with some extra orders of tonight’s special.” Working in a restaurant had its perks. Food always tasted better when someone else made it. As long as that someone wasn’t her dad.
The Wedding Dilemma (Mile High Firefighters) Page 6