“Philadelphia,” he said without looking up.
O…kay, so he liked to keep to himself, Pixie decided. She’d take his order and make herself scarce. “You’ve come a long ways to our neck of the woods. Ordinarily I’d recommend the bacon and guacamole cheeseburger with a side of our crispy fried onion rings, but my sister had that last night and threw up everywhere.”
The stranger glanced up at her. “You’re kidding me, right?”
“Nope. All over that booth in the corner.” She indicated said booth. “And her high–school sweetheart. The booth will recover, but I’m not so sure he will.”
The man gave a deep belly laugh. “You’re quite something, you know that, Pixie?”
“Is that a compliment?”
He smiled and nodded and Pixie dropped her pencil. They both reached for the floor at the same time and bumped heads.
The man handed the pencil to her and said, “Sorry, Miss. Are you okay?”
Pixie’s tongue was stuck firmly to the roof of her mouth.
The stranger frowned and caught her elbow as if afraid she might topple into a faint.
“Miss?”
“Ah… er…” Pixie couldn’t stop staring at the guy.
He smiled and said, “Either our heads clashing has caused you irreparable brain damage, or you’ve just recognized me.”
Pixie nodded mutely.
“Nod once if it’s the first and twice if it’s the second.”
Pixie nodded twice.
“Can you do me a favor, Pixie and not scream or anything?”
Pixie nodded and finally found her voice. “S… sure. I’m not the screaming type anyway.”
“Didn’t think you would be. You look like you’ve got a good head on your shoulders. And an interesting way of describing the menu. I’ve gotta say that, in spite of your sister’s unfortunate experience, a bacon and guacamole cheeseburger with crispy onion rings sounds like just what I want.”
Pixie released her breath. Then, realizing she was staring, scribbled the order in her notepad—except her hand was shaking so much, Martha would never understand what she’d written. “And to drink… sir?”
“Call me, Mac. All my friends do.”
“B… but I thought your name was Jake McKade?”
“Only professionally.”
“Oh…” Pixie wanted to kick herself she was behaving so stupidly. Just because Jake McKade, who made a country music clip that went viral on YouTube a year or so ago, and that led to a multi–million dollar contract, was sitting in the diner she worked in was no reason to go to pieces. She forced her knees not to tremble.
“What’s your favorite drink here, Pixie?” he asked with that smooth, slightly husky voice.
“Root beer float,” she said without hesitation.
“It’s a while since I had one of those, but sure, bring me a root beer float, please.”
“Coming right up, Mr… I mean… Mac. ”
Pixie turned away, barely able to wipe the smile off her face.
“Oh, and Pixie?”
She spun back to him. “Yes?”
“I’d appreciate it if you kept who I am to yourself,” he said, tucking a folded twenty–dollar bill into her apron pocket.
She removed it and handed the money back saying, “Your secret is safe with me, Mac. You don’t need to pay me to keep my big mouth shut.”
He grinned at that, and Pixie turned away and floated all the way to the kitchen.
“What’s up with you?” Martha asked. “You’ve got a strange look on your face. Was that customer bothering you?”
“No, he’s fine,” Pixie assured her as she tore the order off her pad and glanced at her handwriting. Totally incomprehensible! “He wants a bacon and guac cheese with rings. I’ll just go fix his drink.”
She strode out of the kitchen before Martha could comment on her writing and started making the float.
The lunch crowd had thinned to just a couple of tables that were indicating they wanted their checks. She nodded to them, then took the root beer over to Mac and placed it in front of him. “I hope you enjoy it. If you don’t, just let me know. I’m happy to recommend something else. “’Cept maybe a chocolate thick shake.” She pulled a face.
“Your sister again?” Mac guessed and she nodded.
He smiled and said, “In that case, I’ll stick with the root beer.”
Pixie bustled off to prepare the other customers’ checks thinking, TMI, Pix! You really shouldn’t have mentioned Maggie’s unfortunate mishap!
By the time she’d handed out the checks and wiped down all the vacated tables, collected the tips and deposited them into the tip jar, Mac’s burger was ready.
She grabbed flat wear and napkins and headed to his table. Jake McKade was probably used to linen tablecloths and silver service and here she was placing paper napkins and knives and forks that were older than Adam in front of him.
“Mmmn, mnn, that smells good,” he said, sniffing the burger and picking up a ring.
“Careful!” she warned. “They’re hot.”
Mac swore under his breath as he dropped the ring and said, “Thanks for warning me.”
“Did you get burned?”
“No,” he said, blowing furiously on his finger.
“You might want to wait a moment or two before trying the burger,” she said. “How’s the float?”
He grinned up at her. “So good I could do with another,” he said, handing the empty glass to her.
Pixie bustled off and made a fresh root beer float in a clean glass and took it back to the table. “If that’s all I can get you for now, I’ll leave you in peace.”
“You work here permanently, Pixie,” he asked as she turned away.
She turned back. “No, only the summers. I’m in my junior year at college in Colorado Springs.”
He sat back and looked at her as if he was really interested in what she, Pixie Hansen, had to say. She forced her knees not to start knocking again.
“What are you studying?”
“Journalism.”
He nodded, picked up a ring and blew on it. “Interesting. Print or television?”
“Both! Anywhere that leads to a job, really. I’m not fussy.”
Mac bit into the onion ring and Pixie waited for the expected look of bliss to cross his features. Yep, there it was! No–one did rings like Martha.
“These are good,” he said after swallowing his mouthful.
“Just wait till you try the burger. Martha uses only prime–grade Angus and grinds it herself.”
“I’m not sure what that means in English, but I’ll take your word for it.”
Pixie flushed. Some city folk had no idea burgers even came from cows! She should remember that before she started lecturing.
Mac picked up the burger and took a bite and repeated the look of bliss as he chewed and swallowed. “How come I’ve never heard of this place before, Pixie?”
“You’ve been in town a while?”
“No, just got in yesterday. But you know those cooking programs that go around the country sampling specialties of local chefs—seems this place should’ve got a mention.
Pixie glowed with pride for Martha and wanted to rush into the kitchen and drag her on out to hear it from the lips of none other than Jake McKade, country singing sensation.
As if on cue, Jake’s latest hit started playing on the local radio Martha was always tuned in to.
“Now everyone’s about gone, Pix, can you turn that up?” Martha called from the kitchen. “I can’t get enough of that man and his beeyootiful voice!”
Pixie was sure she could detect a flush beneath Mac’s tan. “I won’t tell her you’re here,” she whispered.
“Nah, go on. Bring her on out here,” he said and took another bite of burger.
Pixie stared at Mac, unsure if he meant it or not. He tipped his head in the direction of the kitchen. “Go on,” he urged.
Pixie walked on back to the kitchen where
Martha was elbow–deep in dishwashing suds and singing along with Jake McKade.
“Ah, Martha,” she said, unsure how Martha was going to take meeting someone like Mac. “The customer wants to meet you.”
“Well then, he’s gonna have to come on in here and say hi, ’cos I aint gittin' my hands dry just to get them wet again.”
Unfortunately, the song ended just as Martha uttered those words a little too loudly. Pixie wanted to curl up and die. Martha’s homespun character might suit the locals, but a famous singer…
“Hi, Martha. My name’s Jake McKade and I just wanted to say how much I’m enjoying your food.”
Martha glanced up from her suds–filled sink, took one look at Mac, turned white as a ghost and fainted.
“Wake up, sleepyhead!”
Maggie slowly surfaced from a deep slumber and looked around. Pixie was sitting in the other Adirondack chair, her legs curled under her as she munched on a box of strawberries. By the look of her red–stained lips, she’d been at it some time.
“Have a good day at work?”
“Yeah, and you’ll never guess who I ran into!”
“Haven’t we had this conversation before?”
“No, not Trey! Someone far more interesting than him!”
Maggie rubbed her eyes. Trey was the most interesting person this side of the Great Divide that she could think of, certainly the sexiest. She smiled as she imagined their first night together again after so many years. Only problem was, Gramps was coming to stay for at least a week and Pix was here for the summer, so sex wasn’t going to be easy to achieve.
“Can’t guess,” she said, yawning and stretching.
“You’re no fun.”
“Never pretended to be.”
“Well, just try. Ask me some questions!”
Maggie closed her eyes and pretended to concentrate. “Animal, vegetable or mineral?”
“Don’t be dumb! I said I ran into them. So it’s a person… or persons unknown.”
“Single or plural?”
“Single.”
“Male or female?”
“Male.”
“Straight or gay?”
“Straight!”
“Hey! There are plenty of interesting gay people, so don’t be so snippy, missy!”
“I can confidently say he’s straight.”
“Married or single?”
“Single.”
“Single, as in never married, divorced or widowed?”
Pixie didn’t answer.
“You lose,” Maggie said, reminding Pixie of the rules of Hansen Family Twenty Questions.
Pixie didn’t protest her loss by default. “What? No argument from you about the results?”
“Hi!” she heard Pixie say in a strange voice.
Maggie wanted to groan. Trey had turned up after all? Well, she was just going to get up and march him back to his car right this minute!
She lurched out of her chair and spun around to confront him. Only it wasn’t Trey. It was Mac the city boy, standing there with an empty cup in his hand.
“Hi,” he said, looking sheepish. “I was wondering if I could borrow a cup of sugar?”
Chapter Four
Sure, Mac!” Pixie said, leaping to her feet.
“You two know each other?” Maggie asked, gob–smacked.
“Sure. I served Mac lunch today,” she said brightly and then flushed deep red.
Maggie was immediately suspicious. “Please tell me you didn’t spill coffee all over him?”
“No, of course I didn’t!”
“She was the perfect server,” Mac said in Pixie’s favor. “Even warned me off the bacon and guacamole cheeseburger with a side of crispy onion rings.”
“You didn’t! ” Maggie roared at her sister, knowing now what her red face was all about.
Pixie practically wrenched the cup out of Mac’s hands and ran to the house.
“She did. But I ordered it anyway. Best burger I’ve ever had. And I told Martha so too.”
Maggie dragged her eyes from watching her sister’s sassy little butt disappear inside to what she might think was safety back to Mac.
“Oh? And how did she take that?”
“Not well. She fainted.”
“Oh, my God! Is she okay?”
“Sure. I finished the washing–up for her and all was forgiven.”
This guy was too smooth by half. Doing the washing–up for Martha? As if! “So, you want to borrow a cup of sugar?” she asked, her voice dripping with suspicion.
“Yeah, I’m making apple crumble and forgot to get some from the grocery store in Spruce Lake. Thought us being neighbors and all, you wouldn’t mind sparing some,” he said with a shrug.
“Nice of you to tell Martha you enjoyed her cooking. The locals take her too much for granted. You must’ve made her day.” She strode towards the cabin saying, “I’d better go call her to make sure she’s okay.” In all the years Maggie had known her, Martha had never taken a day off sick.
Mac caught her arm as she started to mount the steps to the porch.
“She’s fine. Just got a bit of a shock.”
“Yeah, she took one look at Mac and keeled over,” Pixie said, as she came out of the house and handed the cup of sugar to Mac.
“Now why would she do that?” Maggie wondered aloud.
Pixie and Mac looked at each other. Mac said, “She doesn’t know, does she?”
“She’s completely clueless. It’s kind of embarrassing.”
“Stop talking about me as if I’m not here! Doesn’t know what?”
“It was lucky Mac caught Martha, otherwise she could’ve cracked her head open on the stove,” Pixie said, neatly changing the subject.
Martha was no lightweight, so Cowboy was both quick on his feet and strong. Maggie couldn’t help glancing at his arms encased in his chambray shirt.
“I still don’t get why she fainted at the sight of Mac. Is he her long–lost son or something?”
“Not even close!” Pixie crowed.
Mac took the cup of sugar and said, “Nice seeing you again, Maggie. Pixie.” He headed down the steps.
“Hold it right there, Cowboy!” Maggie hollered.
Mac halted mid–stride and turned towards her with a bone–melting smile. Maggie couldn’t get the notion of his being vaguely familiar out of her mind. “Do I know you from somewhere?”
“Yeah, we’re neighbors. We met earlier today, remember?”
“Don’t be sassy!”
Pixie started singing something off–key. Maggie covered her ears. “Please! Don’t ruin a perfectly lovely song,” she begged, recognizing the words. It was a country tune getting a lot of airplay.
Mac started singing and Pixie stopped, her mouth agape.
Maggie glanced from Pixie to Mac. He sure could hold a tune. All he needed was a guitar… A guitar like the one sitting on his …
“You’re the guy on the radio?” she asked, incredulous. “I thought his name was Jake something?”
“Jake McKade is Mac’s professional name,” Pixie said with pride as if she was suddenly part of a rock star’s inner circle.
Maggie shook her head. “And Martha fainted because she recognized him?” Maggie demanded. “What is she, some kind of star–stuck teenager?”
“Apparently my music appeals to anyone from nine to ninety.”
“You just keep out of this!” she snapped. “I won’t have my sister hanging out with some…some…rock star!
“He’s a country–music legend, sis,” Pixie put in.
“Such a legend, I didn’t even recognize him.”
“Which, from my point of view, is a good thing,” Mac said. “I moved here for anonymity.”
“Oh, please! Everyone knows you guys have egos the size of SUVs and women trailing after you everywhere willing to do all sorts of things!”
At that, Pixie leaned forward as if hoping Maggie would elaborate.
“You’re right about the women. Th
at, and the unrelenting media coverage is why I’m here, in Nowhere, USA—as your sister so charmingly calls it. As for the SUV–sized ego, I’m working on deflating it, though you’re doing an excellent job of that yourself. Please continue.” He stepped back, offering his upturned hands in a gesture of surrender. Only he’d forgotten about the cup of sugar and it spilled out all over the porch.
“I’ve got it!” Pixie cried as she hurried into the house.
“Don’t you dare waste any more of my precious sugar on this city boy!” Maggie yelled after her.
“I wasn’t going to,” Pixie said, returning with a dustpan and broom. She bent to sweep up the spilled sugar, but Mac leaned down and took the broom and pan from her hands. “I made the mess, I’ll clean it up,” he said and went to the task.
Pixie crossed her arms and glared at Maggie over the top of his head.
What? Maggie mouthed at her.
Be nice! Pixie mouthed back.
No! Maggie mouthed back, just as Mac stood up.
“Is there a problem, ladies?”
“There won’t be just as soon as you get your city–bred butt off my land.”
“That’s pretentious, city–bred butt to you, ma’am,” he said easily and handed the tools to Pixie who, instead of retreating to the kitchen, stood transfixed by the exchange.
Maggie’s lips thinned as she forced herself not to smile. The guy was incorrigible.
“She’s trying not to laugh,” Pixie informed him.
“Do you think we should tickle her?” he asked.
Maggie saved them from having to as she gave up, grinned and said, “Take your pretentious, city–bred butt and go. And don’t come near my little sister ever again!”
“Whoa there!” Mac said, holding up his hands again. “I don’t like what you’re inferring.”
“And neither do I!” Pixie said, stepping between them. “Mac is my friend. He’s even agreed to let me interview him so long as I don’t publish where he’s living. Do you know how much kudos that will give me in journalism school?”
Maggie huffed out her breath. She had her there. Getting the inside scoop on someone famous was every journalism student’s dream.
“You’re a child and he’s an older man. It’s not appropriate that you hang out together.”
“I’m turning twenty–one next week, sis! And as for Mac being an older man, I’m not interested in sleeping with him!”
Colorado Woman (The Hansen Women) Page 3