My Bittersweet Summer

by Starla Huchton

  A single, loopy number one was the only thing there, which left me even more confused. What game was Zach playing? Whatever it was, he’d graduated from two layers of petals to three, and the cuts were smoother than before.

  I really didn’t know why he was bothering. Did he think a single carrot was suddenly going to change my mind? Maybe he wasn’t as smart as I’d given him credit for.

  After tossing the flower in the trash bin on the side of the house, I headed out for the day. My parents were already at the restaurant, but I needed to make an early run to Galloway to pick up a special order of seafood from a local fisherman. Chef Antoine had gotten a wild hair and asked for some bizarre, rare fish, and the one place we could get it only delivered as far south as the town across the bridge. With a manager home sick and a hostess likely on her way out due to a sudden loss of childcare, my parents had their hands full.

  It was an uneventful pickup at the seafood market, and after an exchange of an emailed receipt for a styrofoam cooler, I was back on the road. Even with stopping for drive-through coffee, I was well on schedule for being at the restaurant by ten o’clock.

  When I pulled into the parking lot of Le Beau Tournée, I was surprised to see not only my parents’ car alongside Chef Antoine’s red convertible, but Zach’s blue Audi as well. What was he doing at work so early? Per the schedule, he wasn’t due in until four that afternoon.

  I was so distracted by it, that I completely spaced out and shut my door without turning off the engine. The moment it clicked closed, I spun, scrambling for the handle even though it was too late.

  Locked.

  Appalled at my bonehead move, I knocked my forehead against the roof, hoping it would jar my brain into gear. Less than a week with my own dedicated vehicle and I’d already screwed it up.

  “Not to pry or anything, but, uh, something wrong, Margie?”

  At the sound of Zach’s voice, I jumped back a pace.

  Because of course he would be the first witness to my stupidity.

  Resigned to embarrassment, I sighed. “Could you go get my dad? I sort of…”

  He waited, eyebrows lifting.

  “Locked my keys in the car.”

  Without a word, though I could see him fighting not to laugh, Zach turned towards the back door. However, he didn’t go inside, instead stopping at his car and crouching down out of sight. He returned carrying what looked like a straightened out coat hanger.

  “I think I can help,” he said.

  My gaze shifted between the hanger and his honest expression, not fully understanding why he wasn’t being smug or having a good laugh at my expense. “Uh… You know how to use that?”

  He gave me a half smile and rolled up to the driver’s side door, immediately peeling back the black rubber seal at the base of the window. “Believe it or not, I’ve had to break into this car at least two dozen times. Pinnacle of responsibility and all that,” he said as he snaked the wire down into the door.

  “This used to be your car?” A twinge of irritation poked at me. While I knew it was a used car, knowing it was Zach’s old car irked me.

  “Until I graduated, yep,” he said, fishing around in the door. “My folks weren’t about to drop the cash on the latest sports car with Matt around.”

  “Tough break,” I snorted.

  He glanced up at me briefly. “The steering wheel locks up sometimes when you start it, but I couldn’t find a mechanic that could figure out why. If it ever does that to you, just shut it off and restart it again after about five seconds.”

  With a pop and a click, the door unlocked, and he opened it for me. “Problem solved.”

  Ecstatic, I hurried to shut off the car and pocket the keys. “Oh my God, thank you. I was dreading having to tell my dad about this.”

  Over the top of the door, he handed me the hanger. “There’s a little ledge right under door. I used to keep this there in case of emergency.”

  Hesitant, I took the makeshift tool. “Uh, thanks, but not sure I’d know what to do with it.”

  Zach shrugged and backed away. “Well, my dad taught me. He said he learned that trick from your dad when they were in college. He’d probably show you. Life skills and all that.”

  “Yeah. Life skills.”

  With a small smile and a wave, he retreated, leaving me staring after him and wondering what the hell all of that was about. He wasn’t the least bit smug, didn’t press for another chance as repayment, and had talked to me like I wasn’t a girl he’d chased for weeks.

  He seemed… Nice.

  Instantly suspicious, I hurried to collect my purse and the cooler of fish. Dwelling on it was only going to tie me in knots, and the last thing I needed was a headache when I’d just miraculously avoided one.

  Funny how Zach could save me the stress of one situation, only to cause it in another way.

  * * * * *

  Zach’s behavior didn’t waver from the bizarre the rest of the day. After shooting down Tori the day before, it was apparently a signal to the other unattached females on the staff to try their hand. Jenessa giggled her way through an invite for coffee on Thursday, and Addison tried to tempt him out to a beach party on Saturday afternoon. I was especially surprised at Addison, as the bartender was Amazonian on the gorgeous scale, and her red hair always earned her tons of tips during her shifts at the bar.

  Zach turned them both down with a smile.

  The most conceited thought in the world occurred to me as I was waiting on a batch of potatoes to finish boiling: was he doing all of those things for me? The idea seemed completely absurd. The guy tormented me relentlessly as a kid, and knew me barely over a month as an adult. Why on Earth would he put on such an elaborate act for someone who was practically a stranger? I might be pretty, but hardly supermodel material.

  The other explanation was equally ridiculous. Maybe Zach really had meant what he said about trying to become a better person. Aside from royally screwing up that day on the beach, all indications pointed to that being the case. And with the way he was practically ignoring me, it seemed much more likely than it being in pursuit of a little crush. Regardless of any of that, though, it hadn’t even been a week since I threw in the towel on him. He’d let me down when it mattered most. That level of betrayal couldn’t be smoothed over or forgiven with a few token gestures.

  Mid-rumination, my mom found me, the bunched skin of her forehead a clear sign she was stressed.

  “Margie, we have a problem,” she said.

  I moved the stockpot of potatoes off the burner. “What’s that?”

  “I’m going to need you in the front of the house the rest of the week, and maybe some next week, too.”

  “What? Why?”

  She sighed and rubbed at an eyebrow. “Isabelle lost her childcare, and we’re short a hostess now. We should be able to get someone new soon, but until then we have to rearrange some things. Max and Carter can fill in on prep for you, but Caroline can only take on a few extra hostess shifts.”

  “Oh, sure,” I said. “No problem. When am I up front? Tomorrow?”

  Her shoulders pulled in, apologetic. “This evening. I asked Carter to come in, and he’ll be here soon. Would you mind? I’d take it myself, but your father’s cooking tonight and I have three meetings with clients who want to reserve the banquet room.”

  “Tonight? Can’t the wait staff step in? I’m not even wearing makeup today.”

  “You can run home as soon as Carter gets here. You can have an hour for dinner and clean up.” Her eyes pleaded with me. “Isabelle just called me ten minutes ago, and no one else can make it. If it wasn’t an emergency, I wouldn’t ask, but—”

  I held up my hands. “It’s okay. I got it covered. I can reheat something at home for dinner and get ready. Skirt or slacks?”

  The tension in her face immediately fell away. “Thank you, Margie. Skirt, please. You can borrow my black flats and the white cap sleeve shirt if you need them.”

  “Sure thing.”
>
  She kissed my cheek and hurried away as the back door banged closed. Carter Alexi strolled in with a wave.

  “Your mom let you know about the schedule change?” he asked as he pulled his black hair into a ponytail.

  “Just now,” I said, untying my apron. “The potatoes are boiled, but they still need peeling. The crème brûlée is a little low, but should be good for another hour at least, so no huge rush there. I finished refilling the garnishes, but they’ll need more of the stock reduction soon.”

  He took my apron from me with a smile, his dark eyes lingering in my face. Carter was nice and cute, but four years older than me, so I’d never given him much consideration. “Sounds like you’ve got everything under control.”

  My cheeks heated. “Well, everything except for the reduction, but—”

  Carter winked at me. “No worries, Margie. I’ve got it now. Enjoy your escape from kitchen purgatory.”

  I giggled. “I’m much more comfortable back here, to be honest, but I guess the change of pace is nice.” I turned to grab my purse from the back room. “Thanks, Carter. See you in a bit.”

  As I left, I barely caught a glimpse of Zach as he loudly slammed the dishwasher closed. Rolling my eyes a little, I shrugged it off. I didn’t have time to deal with any small amount of jealousy over practically nothing. Maybe turning down dates was a new thing for him, but it was old hat for me. Besides which, a little wink was hardly an invitation to dinner.

  I mulled it over as I drove home, wondering how he’d react if I did go out with someone else. Likely one of two things would come of it. One, Zach would get angry and confront me about it, proving my theory that he was still a jerk. Or, two, he’d realize I was serious about wanting nothing to do with him and leave me alone. It could be a test of sorts.

  I cringed. What did I care about it anyway? Testing Zach? Seriously? Maybe I’d finally gone off the deep end. Testing a guy was incredibly gross, and even the thought of it made me want a shower. I wasn’t the kind of girl who manipulated people that way.

  Was I?

  Shaking it off, I pulled up to the house. It wasn’t like I had anyone asking me out anyway. Aside from Matt’s initial nasty come-on before he knew who I was, Zach was the only guy who’d shown any interest in me at all.

  I heated up my dinner, wondering if Carter was honestly interested, or if he was one of those naturally flirty types. I didn’t know him all that well, though I wasn’t opposed to seeing him outside of work. He seemed fun, and it wasn’t like I was looking to start a serious relationship weeks before leaving the country. Maybe I’d put aside the age difference and keep an open mind.

  Chuckling to myself as I heated up leftovers, I imagined what Destiny would say if she knew what I was considering. It was likely she'd egg me on and tell me to go for it.

  As I sat down to eat, I mostly brushed the idea away. Normal dating seemed like a far-off dream. As hard as the concept had seemed while in high school, it seemed even more so with me leaving in a few months. Would it even be possible to get close to someone with my issues? At least Zach had known about my problems and wasn't surprised. How would some stranger react? Even if a guy existed that could deal with all of it, could I? It wasn't something I'd thought I'd have to think about my last summer in the States.

  Sighing, I decided to stop worrying about it. No one was asking, and I had other things to do. I'd cross that bridge when I came to it, if it ever came at all. Finishing my dinner, I rinsed off my plate and headed to my room to change. In thirty minutes, I'd be seating customers, and my mind needed to be on my job, not on boys.

  * * * * *

  “Great job tonight,” my mom said as she closed the reservation book on the podium. “I really do appreciate you stepping in last minute.”

  I shrugged and handed her a glass of wine from the bar. “Don’t worry about it. It was a good chance to practice Dad’s pairing suggestions. I needed the refresher.”

  She sipped the wine and sighed. “So you don’t mind filling in until we find a replacement?”

  “Not at all. That’s why I’m here. Wherever you need me, right?”

  She kissed my cheek. “True, but I still appreciate it, Margie.”

  “I’m going to see if they need any help cleaning up in back, okay?” I turned and headed for the kitchen, calling out a warning before pushing the door open. As I passed the line, Chef Antoine watched me with an appraising gaze, unnerving me a little. What was with the look?

  I brushed it off as I pulled up to the prep sink, seeing Carter up to his elbows in vegetables for the next day. “Hey. Need a hand?”

  He looked up at me and grinned, wiping away the glistening sweat at his hairline with the back of his forearm. “Always got room for you, Margie.”

  His grin made me blush, but I covered it up by washing my hands in the sink behind him. “What’s left to do?”

  “I still need to peel and julienne the zucchini, slice up the stuff for the pickled garnish, and make a new batch of brine for the chicken thighs.”

  I scanned the ingredients he’d already hauled out. “Saving the onions for last?”

  He chuckled. “Didn’t want you to catch me crying, is all.”

  Bolstering my courage, I decided to test the waters of flirtation and flashed him a smile. “Why? Some girls might like a man with a sensitive side.”

  The dishwasher slammed closed behind me, but I ignored it.

  Carter leaned a hip against the sink and grinned at me. “Is that right?”

  I shrugged a shoulder and stepped past him, on my way to the walk-in. “Just saying.”

  I returned a minute later and dumped an armload of white onions at the prep station. To save him the trouble, I peeled and chopped the fragrant veggies, but by the end of ten minutes, I was totally crying from both the onions and his jokes. I hadn’t known how funny he was before, as I only ever saw him when our shifts overlapped. By the end of our prep work, I was actually really looking forward to my hostess shifts, as it meant he’d likely be in the kitchen in my place. What did the age difference matter if I genuinely enjoyed spending time with him?

  Smiling to myself, I dumped the last bin of peels in the trash and pulled up the bag, preparing to take it out. As I braced to lift it, my foot slipped on the wet tile, and I lost my balance, my left arm dropping the bag and flailing out for something to hang on to.

  “Whoa.” A strong arm caught me around the waist, and I found myself crushed up against Carter’s chest. “Better be careful in those dressy shoes, Margie.”

  I looked up at him, my face burning in embarrassment. “I… Yeah. Thanks.”

  When I was steady again, his arm slipped away and relieved me of the trash bag. “Better let me get that.”

  All I could manage was a grateful smile as he walked off with the trash. A clearing throat behind me a minute later made me jump, realizing I was still standing there, grinning.

  Zach snapped open a new trash bag, replacing the old one as I stepped away from the can. He looked irritated.

  “What?” I planted a hand on my hip.

  He glanced up as he tightened the ties around the lip of the container. “I didn’t say a word.”

  “You look like you have something to say.”

  He straightened, his lips pulling into a tight line, then turned away. “I wasn’t aware my opinion mattered.”

  I sniffed and picked up the sealed container of pickled vegetables, heading back to the cooler. “It doesn’t.”

  As I was closing the walk-in door, Carter returned from the dumpster. He paused inside the door, considering me. “Hey, you busy after this?”

  I stopped and stared at him. “Busy?”

  “There’s people with guitars on the beach tonight. Wanna go?”

  “With you?” Holy crap. Was he actually asking me out? Already? Really?

  He chuckled. “Me and whatever riffraff shows up. Is that a problem?”

  “I… No. I mean, sure, that sounds great, but I’m still in
work clothes.”

  “Everyone will be in work clothes,” he said with a laugh. “It’s what we do on Wednesday nights. A few locals bring out their instruments, and we relax after work. No rich kids allowed. You in?”

  “Sounds like fun. Sure. I’m game.” My stomach fluttered as his grin widened.

  “I’ll let the others know you’re going with, then,” he said as he backed away towards the prep station. “We won’t leave without you.”

  Others? Feeling stupid at my assumption, my cheeks heated, but I smiled and nodded to cover it up. Of course a guy his age wouldn’t ask out an eighteen-year-old. How dumb was I? Still, it was sort of worth it to see Zach irritated. I shrugged it off and headed back to clean up duty, excited to be doing something other than going home and reading before bed. Self-improvement was fine and all, but the occasional night of fun was important, too.

  Chapter 16

  “I had a nice time tonight. Thanks for the invite,” I said as we got to the beach parking lot, headed for my car.

  Carter shrugged. “Of course. If I knew you’d be interested, I would’ve asked weeks ago. It just seemed like…” He paused, then shrugged again.

  I leaned up against my car. “Seemed like what?”

  “Well, none of us figured you for the type to hang out with the help.”

  I blinked at him, confused. “What? Why? I am the help. Who else would I hang out with?”

  “You’re the bosses’ kid. You can hang out with whoever you want.”

  I crossed my arms, a stewing irritation settling over me. “Why do I have the feeling when you say ‘whoever,’ you actually have someone specific in mind?”

  He shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned up on the car opposite me. “You’re saying the rumors aren’t true then?”

  I hefted my keys, and hit the unlock button. “Rumors are rumors. If you’re talking about Zach, no, there’s nothing going on there. Less than nothing. Not that anyone would believe me.” Straightening up, I turned to open the door, but he caught me by the wrist.