Now it was his turn to smile as he jotted down her order in the book.
They chatted for a bit longer before he left the table.
What had just happened?
“Careful,” Jackson said in a soft voice as he walked past her. “You might catch flies.”
“H-how did you do that?” Frankie followed him back into Rosie. “She smiled. And laughed. Do you know what that means?”
“That she likes red velvet cake and English Breakfast tea?” he said as he hung the order up on the rack. “I told her it wouldn’t take long.”
“Sure.” Frankie blinked and reached for a pink-and-mint-green plate and carried it over to the cake stand to prepare it. Jackson brewed the tea and delivered them both back to the elderly woman, who offered him up a third smile. In a row. She then chatted with him for several minutes.
Surreal.
“I think table four is ready to order,” he said as he reappeared, a smile still hovering around his mouth.
“Right.” Frankie had been so distracted about Mrs. Willis she’d forgotten all about the other customers.
It was a group of local women who liked to wear workout gear as they ate cake, maybe hoping it would counterbalance the sugar.
She picked up an order book and headed over. The menus were all face down on the table, suggesting they’d made up their minds, but as soon as Frankie reached them the women all picked them up again.
“Actually, we might need a few more minutes,” one of them said before blatantly staring over at the serving hatch, where Jackson was washing another stack of dishes.
“Oh,” she managed to say before returning to Rosie and thrusting the order book at him. His navy eyes clouded.
“Seriously?”
“The public has spoken,” she said, and once again pretended to rearrange the cake displays as she covertly watched his progress. The women didn’t seem bothered by his brooding expression, or the fact he looked seriously out of place in a retro tearoom wearing a floral apron and talking about cupcakes. Instead they all smiled and chatted with him.
His voice was too low for her to catch what he was saying, but it was hilarious, judging by the laughter that followed.
They obviously didn’t share her dislike of bad boys.
He returned several minutes later with the order, and while she busied herself with plating it all out, he prepared the teas. All without even gloating.
He served four more tables before it was finally time to close. He was definitely not Kenneth.
“I’m going to take the tables and chairs over to the storage shed,” he said and disappeared again.
Frankie emptied out the nearest fridge and used a cloth to clean the shelves. She was just finishing when her phone beeped with a text message.
It was Aaron.
I survived my father’s wrath. Btw, you looked cute today.
She grinned and tapped her screen. You got a thing for aprons?
It’s growing on me. So…you get time off for good behavior?
She caught her breath, her heart pounding. Who wants to know?
Me, was the reply, accompanied by a smiley face. There’s a party @ Sam’s house on Sat night. Want to go?
Was he serious?
Of course she wanted to go. Sam Robinson was going to be a senior and was almost as popular as Aaron. And she’d just been invited to one of his legendary parties.
Would it be wrong to do a victory dance?
She stood up and glanced toward the surf shop. Probably not a good idea in case Aaron was watching. There was no sign of him, so she punched the air and grinned.
Sure, she replied and managed to only add one emoji. He sent her a thumbs up and promised to text through the details later. Frankie stared at the screen.
Had that really just happened?
Had he really asked her out?
“Surprise,” Lo said from somewhere behind her. Frankie turned as her aunt bustled in. Her hair was in its usual beehive with a yellow rose poked artfully in the side. “I’ve just finished the last delivery and thought I’d see how you were doing. Who plugged you in? You’re glowing.”
“I am?” Frankie said before wrinkling her nose. Her poker face was nonexistent. “Okay, a certain someone just asked me out.”
“Really? Who?” Lo said, glancing around, as if searching for a hidden boy.
“Aaron Tremain,” Frankie said.
“Oh.” Some of the gleam left her aunt’s eyes.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Frankie folded her arms.
“Nothing. I just didn’t know you liked him.”
“What’s not to like? Baseball star. Good teeth. Smart.”
“You know that’s not how love works, right?”
“You’re not going to give me the birds and bees talk, are you?”
“Relax. I’m just teasing.” Lo laughed and walked over to the money drawer. Frankie usually cashed up, but if Lo was here, she could do it while Frankie finished cleaning. Her aunt flipped open the drawer and began to count. She let out a slow whistle. “You had a good day.”
Frankie collected the dirty tablecloths that had piled up in the corner as the day had worn on. “Yes. It seems busier this year, which is good.”
“Works for me,” Lo said. As she finished cashing up, Jackson reappeared near the awning, pushing the hand truck he’d been using. His dark hair was still slicked back like a rockabilly and despite all his protests, he hadn’t taken off the apron. “Ah, Jackson’s still alive. I’m so pleased you resisted the urge to kill him.”
“There’s still time,” Frankie said, but she couldn’t help but smile. “So maybe I overacted. He’s been okay,” she admitted.
“Frankie Hargreaves, did you just admit that it wasn’t a mistake to hire him?” Lo said, just as Jackson glanced over and waved. Her aunt waved back, and Frankie let out a reluctant sigh.
“Fine. I admit that it wasn’t a huge mistake.”
And it was true. They were never going to be best buddies, but he was a lot easier to work with than Kenneth, and the customers seemed to like him. More importantly, he hadn’t ruined her summer plans. She had a date with Aaron.
4
Jackson found a parking space and made his way to Rosie. Frankie was already there. It had become an unspoken agreement that whoever got there last had to buy the coffee. Damn. He stopped at the coffee cart and put in an order. His was simple. No cream, no milk, and no sugar. But Frankie insisted on drinking a triple venti, half-sweet, non-fat caramel macchiato. He was sure she only ordered it to annoy him.
“Ah, the sweet taste of success.” She walked over, taking the cup from his hand. As usual, her blonde hair was pulled back off her face with the same kind of precision she used when she was plating up the cakes. She was wearing a pale pink dress that left her tanned arms bare. “I’ve already set up everything inside. You okay to do the tables and chairs and cover me for the first hour?”
“Sure.” He nodded, trying not to look at her arms. “You off somewhere?”
“Kenneth called in sick last night, so I’m catching a taxi to the kitchen and will do the dishes while Lo drops the cakes off here and does a few more deliveries. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Can I help? I could do the delivery run in my car.” Jackson raised an eyebrow. He’d finally met Kenneth yesterday and discovered Frankie hadn’t been exaggerating. The guy was a bit of a loser. Unlike Frankie, who seemed to work almost as hard as Lo herself.
“It’s cool. Kenneth has an aversion to working Saturdays, so it’s not really a surprise. But thanks for offering. I’ll let Lo know.”
“Okay,” he said as Frankie’s eyes narrowed in on the latest picture Chelsea had drawn.
“Let me guess, your mini Picasso has been at it again.”
“Oh. Yeah.” He passed it over, careful not to touch her hand. The paper was filled with multi-colored squiggly lines covering all of the space. Frankie held it one way, and then the other, before wrinkling her
nose.
“I might need a clue.”
“Ice-cream snow,” he said, not bothering to add that he’d been equally confused.
She studied it again, and then her mouth turned up, and the dimple appeared. Most of the time she was organized and structured, but when she smiled there was a wild gleam in her eyes. It suited her.
I like it.
“Ah, ice-cream snow. It makes perfect sense.” She handed it back to him. “Do you mind putting it up on the wall of fame? I’d better get going.”
He waited until she jogged over to the taxi stand before he took a slug of coffee and went to get ready for the day. He taped the drawing up, along with three others his little sister had done, and then got to work.
xxxx
Frankie reappeared an hour later, and the morning was filled with a procession of customers.
“I swear Lo puts something addictive into these muffins,” Frankie said as she filled up the display plate again. “We’ve sold two dozen. Or maybe it’s voodoo?”
“Could just be good old-fashioned sugar and butter,” he suggested, which earned him an eye roll.
“Well, isn’t this cozy,” a voice said, and Jackson’s fingers stiffened on the teapot he’d been in the process of filling. He put it down and turned around.
It was Tania. His ex.
Frankie, who’d been closest to the serving window, glanced at him, her gaze curious. Hell. He took a couple of quick breaths and stepped closer.
“What are you doing here?”
“What do you mean, J? I’m here for tea. Isn’t this place adorable?” Her words were light, but her voice dripped with sarcasm. Probably because her idea of a good time didn’t involve tea and cakes.
Her eyes glittered, and her red hair hung down around her face. She was wearing a black skirt and a black leather vest with nothing underneath. He’d thought she was beautiful once. But the outside didn’t quite match the inside. Cruel. Reckless. Angry.
“I don’t think so,” he said in a cool voice.
There were a couple of tables that needed clearing. He glanced at Frankie and then grabbed a tray. He was out the door in two steps and went to the one furthest away. Tania sauntered after him. Good. Because the last thing he wanted was for Frankie to be involved in any of their conversations.
Not because it was his ex, but because the world she came from wasn’t anything a girl like Frankie needed to know about.
“Why haven’t you returned my calls?” Tania said. “My dad’s been asking after you. Thought you might want a second chance. He’s got a big job on. It’s a good deal. You should talk to him. He’s not the only one who misses you. I know things got…complicated…but we can move past it.”
Not in this lifetime.
His knuckles whitened.
Their dads had been tight friends, and while Tania’s father didn’t wear a patch on his jacket like Marty Lang had, his construction company wasn’t quite as legitimate as he made out. Jackson had found out last summer what Tania and her dad were really like.
“I have a job.” He carefully loaded up the delicate teacups before stacking the plates.
“Jeez, have you seen yourself? You’re wearing a freaking apron and playing tea parties.” Her eyes swept over him, and she licked her lips. “Why are you kidding yourself? You don’t belong here, J.”
“You’re the one who doesn’t belong,” he said in a low growl. Their eyes locked, and after what seemed like hours, Tania finally shrugged.
“The difference is that I know it. At least I’m not living a lie,” she said, then slowly sauntered away.
He waited until his anger had settled before clearing the tables. Tania was in his past. He’d walked away from her and everything she represented. She could talk all she wanted, but it was just words.
“Everything okay?” Frankie asked as he stepped inside. Her voice was soft and light. Like a cloud in one of Chelsea’s drawings.
“Yeah. Sorry about that. It won’t happen again.” He stacked the dishes by the sink and plunged his hands into the water. Everything could be cleaned if you just used enough soap.
xxxx
“You want me to take out the trash?” Frankie said at the end of the day, leaning over the counter to study the sky. Her voice was calm, but her wrinkled nose suggested she’d rather walk into a room with a hundred snakes than step outside.
The cobalt blue hue had turned gunmetal gray, and heavy drops of rain were pelting down like only a summer storm could. It had started as he’d begun to pack away the tables and chairs for the night. Which explained why he was soaking wet.
Frankie obviously didn’t want to share his fate.
Still. He could cut her some slack. She’d worked straight through her lunch break without complaining.
And she hadn’t said a word about Tania.
He’d half expected her to come back again, but there had been no sign of her. Which was the way it needed to stay.
“It’s okay.” He picked up another folding chair and loaded it onto the small hand truck. “Just one more trip, then I’ll do it before I take down the awning.”
“If you’re sure,” she said in an uncertain voice. “It’s just my hair doesn’t really play well with rain, and—”
“And you don’t want to mess it up for your date tonight with Aaron.”
Her mouth dropped. “How did you know about that?”
“We work together in a ten-foot food truck. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist.” He shrugged. “And you talk to Via on the phone a lot. I managed to crack your very complicated code.”
She tilted back her head and let out a throaty laugh. “Has anyone ever told you you’re too smart for your own good?”
“Nope. Never.” He stacked another chair onto the hand truck.
“Yes, I’m going on a date tonight. To a party at Sam Robinson’s place out at Hammer Point, and my hair takes forever to dry,” she admitted as a touch of pink stained her cheeks. One of her dimples appeared, along with a flash of white teeth.
“We can’t have that. Lucky for me my hair is now waterproof thanks to all the gunk in it.” He patted the rock-hard style and tried to ignore the sparkle in her eyes. Not that it was any of his business. If she wanted to party with a bunch of idiot jocks and cheerleaders it was her decision.
“Thanks.” She took the lid off the cake stand and carefully transferred the remaining slices into a glass container. When she was done, she peered back up at him. “So, do you have plans for tonight?”
Sure. My social life is a nonstop extravaganza.
“Babysitting Chelsea. We might go wild and watch Minions.” He shrugged. His mom worked Saturday nights cleaning an office block, and she wouldn’t be home until after midnight. Not that he minded watching his kid sister.
When he’d dated Tania, she’d always wanted to party, especially around the clubhouse his father had once been part of. It should have been the first sign he and Tania weren’t a good match. Babysitting was a lot safer.
“That actually sounds kind of fun.” She finished with the cakes and moved onto the leftover muffins.
“Only to someone who hasn’t already seen it five hundred times.” He flipped a table over and folded the legs down. He hoisted it onto the hand truck. Rain dripped into his eyes and blurred his vision. When he glanced up, Frankie was studying him. “Problem?”
“Just trying to make you out. You know, underneath the scowls and the monochrome wardrobe, you’re a pretty decent guy.”
“Just as long as you don’t tell anyone,” he said in a cool voice, which didn’t seem to bother her in the least.
“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe.” She lifted her fingers to her mouth and made a zipping motion. Despite himself, he smiled but didn’t answer. “Okay, while you finish doing that I’m going to cash up for the day.”
She busied herself with the tablet they used to ring up the sales, and he pushed the hand truck across the wet grass to the storeroom. The rain increased, pelt
ing against his jacket like stabbing needles. He shrugged it off. He was past the tipping point of being soaked. A bit more water wouldn’t make a difference.
The other vendors were packing up, and he nodded to a couple as he unloaded the hand truck.
The sky darkened and the rain increased. Rivulets of water ran off the thick grease in his hair and down his neck as he took the trash over to the allocated dumpster. He flinched and increased his pace as steam rose up from the grass, the water and heat of the day battling together.
When he got back, Frankie was still leaning over the counter, tapping away at the iPad, blonde hair falling over her shoulder as she worked. Her lips were pressed together in concentration. Damn, she was cute. He came to a halt and tried to drag his gaze away from her.
No good could come from checking her out. She was so far out of his league it was laughable. Rain pelted his face, but instead of cooling him down, his skin was burning.
He turned away and dropped his head and pushed the hand truck around to the back of Rosie. The small awning that covered the generator and milk crates they used for their lunch break was sagging under the rain, which meant he’d get another shower when he took it down.
“You’re going to get soaked.” Frankie appeared, her hair tucked under a cap to protect it from the rain.
He held up his arm to demonstrate that it was too late, not quite trusting himself to look directly at her. Bad enough he felt things. No way did he want her to know about it. She’d laugh, or get him fired. Or both.
“It’s fine.”
She didn’t look convinced. “We could just leave it up overnight.”
“I really don’t mind. But thanks.”
“For not wanting to send you out in the pouring rain?” She raised an eyebrow. “You must have worked for some choice people if you think you need to thank me for that.”
“You have no idea,” he said. “I’d better get this done.”
“Sure. Oh, and I’ve put a couple slices of cherry pie in a box for Chelsea and your mom.”
How to Kiss a Bad Boy Page 4