by Doreen Alsen
She’d be the queen of all of them, or so she had thought.
Pull yourself together, girl. She had one prime piece of beefcake walking right next to her, no axle grease anywhere to be seen or smelled.
Tim wore a dangerous scent, one no mechanic wore, ever. Clean. Slick. Dangerous.
While he lived in small-town Lobster Cove, he had too much of a man-of-the-world air about him. He’d seen a few things, done a few things, she thought, that ordinary men had not.
He never did tell her what he did for work.
The night rolled in, along with a heavy fog that brought in humidity and promised a late storm.
“Here we are,” Tim said as the stood in front of the walkway to her cottage. “Can I entice you into asking me in for coffee?” He gave her a sexy grin.
“No, I’m afraid not. I really do have to call it a night.”
“At least let me walk you to your door.” He rested his hand lightly against her back as he guided her to the front porch.
“Thank you for dinner. I had a lovely time.”
“Let’s do it again sometime.” He looped his arms loosely around her waist. Angelique shivered as she looked up at his face, knowing, waiting for the kiss she knew would come.
Desired to come.
He didn’t disappoint. His mouth brushed across hers once, twice, three times before he deepened the kiss.
So light. So sweet. He didn’t push her, just gave her a promise more than a kiss.
Too soon, he lifted his head and whispered, “Good night. Dream of me, okay?”
She needed to catch her breath. All she could manage was a small nod.
He walked off the porch and waited until she’d opened her door. She gave him one little wave before going inside.
She had an idea the man was going to drive her insane.
That did not happen to Angelique Durand. If there was any sanity to drive away, she did the driving. But then, she’d lost her edge on the steps of a Paris jail. Most likely, she’d never find it again.
Time to move on. It might prove interesting to chase as well as be chased. She smiled at the thought.
Chapter Eight
Fuck him! The fetid air choked Tim as he fought against the tight, rough restraints around his hands and feet. Heavy boots kicked him over and over, and he screamed against the duct tape over his mouth but no sound would come. Wet from his own sweat, blood, and most likely urine, he hunkered into as small a ball as he could.
He heard loud cracks and roars from the war approaching from all sides. The blasts came incrementally closer until they were practically on top of him
One last explosion came so close he could feel the heat and the sharp, hot pieces of shrapnel spread by the bomb. The deadly spray relentlessly pelted him until the skin on his back turned raw and bloody.
With a scream made of pure, unadulterated terror, Tim sat bolt upright in his bed. His chest rose and fell as he dragged air in and out of his lungs, not the stink of Iraq but the fresh salt air of Maine.
He fell back onto his bed, his eyes wide open as he remembered where he was. His body drenched in sweat, his face streaked with tears, he worked to get his breathing back under control.
The earlier predicted electrical storm raged above Frenchman’s Bay with lightning stabbing straight down from the roiling sky, thunder booming loud enough to rattle the windows and doors.
He got up and staggered to his kitchen for something to drink. Not water.
Never water. It reminded him too much of the times he’d been water boarded. He also knew better than to take a shower, no matter how disgusting he felt.
He opened his fridge and pulled out a beer, pressing the cold bottle against one cheek then the other.
Moving into his living room, he turned on the lights and flopped down on the couch. No way could he go back to that bed tonight. He grabbed the remote and clicked on the TV, channel surfing to find something innocuous. Something boring.
What had he been thinking of, trying to start a relationship with Angie? No way was he fit to be around any woman.
****
Lord, Angelique hated her life. Hated with a capital H. The breakfast shift had been a madhouse. The brat at table five had managed to mash half of his muffin into the tablecloth and the chair cushion. Then he’d crawled under the table and mashed the rest of it into the carpet. Now she was on her hands and knees, under the table, working her butt off to scrape the crumbs and other debris out of the rug.
So gross.
To top it all off, her fake glasses had filmy spots on the lenses and kept slipping down her nose. She didn’t dare take them off or else she’d ruin her disguise.
The hostess stuck her head under the table. You’ve got a new party, a four-top. Table 8.”
Angelique sighed. “I’ll be right there.”
“I already coffee’d them, so they’re good for the next few minutes, so you can go wash your hands.”
She resigned herself to her fate. “Thanks.”
Slowly backing out from under the table on her hands and knees, a sense of defeat came and rested on her back and shoulders.
Even with better shoes, her feet still ached. Throbbed. And no matter what she did, she still got red spots and itched because of the uniform. Wasn’t that attractive?
A big, fat ol’ no to that.
The family at the four-top looked nice. The parents were making sure their children, a boy and his little sister, actually behaved.
She rolled her shoulders and prepared to woman up. She’d wallow while she washed her hands then be Angie the Wonder Waitress once she turned off the tap.
She marched over to the table as fast as her sensibly but ugly shod feet would carry her.
The man at the table had pinned all his attention to a very sweet-looking blonde girl, who looked to be pretty spoiled. Angelique recognized all the signs, especially the boo-boo lipped pout. The boy, older, sat there engrossed in a comic book.
Angelique pasted a smile on her face. “Hello! I’m Angie, and I’m your server this morning. Have you decided what you want?”
Everybody but the little girl smiled at her. Okay, the boy blinked once, and even though he was a child, he hid his reaction to her scar well. But the little girl…she stared at Angelique’s face.
The man looked from the little girl to his wife then to Angelique. “We’re here for Alma’s Danishes, of course.”
“I don’t want a Danish.”
“Cookie, just try one before you decide you don’t like it.”
The kid looked like a Cookie, for sure, a girl who made sure everyone paid attention to her and only her.
A diva waiting on a diva? Angelique could most definitely give this kid a run for the money.
After all, Angelique had written the book on little sister diva-hood.
She flushed hot and, as she suspected, lobster red. She was catty, but she’d never picked on a little kid; she should be ashamed of herself.
Angelique was ashamed of herself. And what did it say about her appearance that she frightened little children? She wanted to cry.
“Do you want to order now or do you need some time?”
“We’ll wait a little. We’re meeting someone here,” the man said.
“Well, why don’t I bring y’all some drinks while you’re waiting and deciding?”
“That sounds lovely, thank you.” The woman smiled gratefully.
“Hey, sorry I’m late! I had to take care of some stuff for the new book.”
Angelique’s head ripped around. Tim Baldwin had just come racing up to the table.
“Hey, Angie. Hi.” Tim looked taken aback even though he smiled at her as he ran his hand through his hair.
“You know each other.” The man waiting for Tim grinned.
“We’re neighbors. Chester introduced us. Angie, this is Jeff Myers, my best friend in the whole world, his wife Beth, his daughter Cookie, and his smelly, ugly son, Danny.”
Danny guffawed. “Yo
u smell worse, Uncle Tim.”
“It’s nice to meet you all.” Angelique felt herself flush. “Tim, do you want some coffee?”
“You bet.”
“How about you sit down, I’ll get you that coffee and come back to take your order?”
“Sounds great.” Tim had turned his smile up to heart stopping.
“Be right back.”
She high-tailed it to the coffee station, so unsure of what her next step should be.
Oh, don’t be stupid. Going to the table, taking their order, and then hauling out their damn food was her next step.
She was a waitress. She needed to act like a waitress.
****
“You been holding out on me, buddy?” Jeff shot Tim an amused glance. “How long has this been going on?”
“Has what been going on?” Tim would not give Jeff any fodder to torment him with.
“Jeff, behave.” Beth sat back in her chair. “She’s very pretty.”
“No, she’s not,” Cookie chimed in. “She’s got a big scar on her face.”
“Cookie.” Jeff’s tone was stern. “That’s the last thing you’re going to say about that.”
“I think it’s cool.” Danny automatically contradicted anything Cookie said.
“So anything going on there?” Jeff took a sip of his coffee.
“She’s my neighbor.”
“Really. Go on.”
“That’s it.” Or at least that was all Tim was admitting to, especially after having the nightmare last night.
“She’s very pretty and seems very nice.” Beth smiled.
Beth had been the good fairy in a previous life, Tim was sure of it.
Time to change the subject. “How was the honeymoon?”
Beth sighed. “A dream come true. I never thought I’d ever see Paris and it was so much more than I had ever imagined.”
Jeff took Beth’s hand and brushed a kiss over her knuckles. “We had a good time.”
Tim just bet they had. If the two didn’t stop looking at each other with so many stars in their eyes, they’d blind everybody.
“I got to spend time with Granny Nancy,” Danny said. Granny Nancy was Jeff’s mother and still lived in Addington. “I got to meet Brock and Buck Nelson. They were so cool.”
Brock and Buck Nelson were professional football gods. They were also close friends of Jeff’s, who was the Lobster Cove High School football coach. They’d be doing a football clinic here in Lobster Cove in August as a personal favor to him.
Go Lobster Cove Sharks.
“Finest kind,” said Tim.
“I met Coach Deke, too!” Danny nearly fell off his chair over meeting Deke Nelson, a pro-football coaching god.
Jeff put a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Let’s make Uncle Tim talk about Angie the new waitress. Tell him to leave no detail out.”
Danny nodded at Tim. “Leave no detail out.”
“Shush.” Beth turned a stern eye to Danny. “Don’t make Uncle Tim feel uncomfortable.”
“But she’s hot!”
Beth’s eyes narrowed. “Daniel William Myers, when did you start calling women hot?”
“Well, she is!”
“No she’s not. She’s got a scar. She put make-up on to hide it, but she’s still got an ugly scar.”
“Cookie, you stop that talk now.” Jeff’s tone defined icy and stern.
“And you are way too young to be calling women hot,” Beth told Danny.
Danny shrugged and dived behind his Refractor comic book. Cookie pouted like the Olympic Gold Medalist in pout that she was.
Just like her mother, Jeff’s ex-wife.
Tim had done his best to talk Jeff out of marrying Katie, but whatever Katie wanted, Katie got. What she had wanted was Jeff.
She threw him aside as fast as she could when he didn’t live up to her expectations.
Their little girl paid the price. She really was a cute kid, but it took a while before she shook off the bratitude caused by Katie and returned to the sweet little girl she actually was.
Today was obviously a bratitude day.
Never mind. Angie was headed his way with his coffee.
It seemed that the sight of Angie fixed everything.
He paid attention to her face as she came closer. She did wear a lot of foundation, and she had cleverly applied her blush, but you still saw the scar. The glasses put all your attention onto her eyes. You almost didn’t see it.
Almost.
He’d not worked with models or other people who had skill with make-up. Maybe she’d worked with someone who knew how to paint her face to minimize the mark of her courage.
He’d never sold a single picture to a fashion magazine, hadn’t wanted to. He only caught the magic when he tried to catch the uncatchable.
The things only a magician could see through his camera lens.
The gruesome. The hopeless.
Unfortunately, the terrorists had broken his secret photographer magic decoder ring when he’d been kidnapped.
“Here’s your coffee,” Angie said as she put a nutty, fragrant, steaming, white stoneware mug in front of Tim. “Do you all know what you want?”
Tim watched her as she took everybody’s order. He decided to go just for a couple of Danishes.
“Thanks, y’all. I’ll be right back with your food.” Angie took the menus.
Tim watched her walk away. When he turned his attention back to the table, both Jeff and Beth were staring at him with big grins on their faces. “What?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all,” Jeff said.
Tim knew better. He smelled a matchmaker in the room. Two of them in fact.
He wished he had more to offer Angie.
But he didn’t. He was broken in more ways than one.
Chapter Nine
Angelique’s hands shook as she put together the order for Tim’s table. Why did he have to come in and see her in the hideous green shirt and butt ugly shoes?
She should have realized that he was going to have food here at some point.
Now all she had to do was get said food out to them without spilling the drinks and dropping the tray. Grimacing, she hefted the heavy tray onto her left shoulder and hip-checked open the door that led to the dining room.
A couple of big parties had come in while she’d been in the kitchen and one of them sat at a couple of tables they’d pushed together in her station. Just ducky.
She started to count how many were there and took her attention off where she was going. She misstepped and the tray began to fall. Panicking, she tried to steady it, but it flew up into the air, defied gravity and flew for a bit until it crashed into the wall right behind Tim’s table.
The plates full of food bounced off the wall and clattered over Tim and his friends, finally crashing in a huge, ungodly mess.
Cookie screamed immediately, jumped into her father’s lap, and wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging to him like a demented howler monkey. She thought she heard the boy say totes rad, but she couldn’t be sure.
They all stood, just seconds before Birdie McCorkle flew into the dining room all a twitter.
Great. Angelique could just kiss this job good-bye. The upside? She could ditch the fugly green shirt and the even fuglier shoes.
One always had to look on the bright side, right?
A couple of bussers dove right in and started to clean up. Angelique closed her eyes, said a quick prayer, and ran into the breach.
“I’m so sorry!” She started to gather up pieces of broken crockery.
“It was an accident,” Beth said as she used a napkin to wipe off Danny’s shirt.
“Of course it was.” Jeff croaked out, because Cookie still had a death grip around his neck.
At least she’d stopped screaming.
Angelique noticed Tim just standing there like a statue, like he couldn’t move. His hands fisted tight and his face paled. His lips nearly disappeared, stretching into a line above his chin.
&
nbsp; He stared straight ahead, his pupils fixed and dilated.
“Let me get you another table, Coach,” Ms. McCorkle said, “and of course your breakfast is on the house.” She turned to Angelique. “Go on back to the kitchen and tell Alma to re-do their order a.s.a.p.”
Angelique nodded and ran to the kitchen. “Alma“
“I heard. I’m on it already. Why don’t you go to the sink and try to clean up a bit?”
Angelique looked down at herself. Zut alors! “Okay. Thanks.”
“Don’t worry about it. Things like this happen all the time. Nobody’s hurt, so it’s all good.”
By the time she’d gotten herself sort of together, Alma had the food ready for Angelique to take out.
“Watch your step this time,” Alma warned.
“You know it.” She picked up the tray and went back into the dining room. Tim’s friends were seated at a different table but Tim was nowhere to be seen.
“Here you are. I promise not to throw this on you again.” She set the tray down on a nearby tray stand. “Where did Tim go?” She placed a plate with chocolate chip pancakes in front of Cookie.
Beth and Jeff exchanged a glance. “He said he had somewhere to go and left.”
“I see.” She put a cheese omelet down in Beth’s spot. “He looked a little shaken up.”
“I’m sure he’s fine.” Jeff frowned.
She bit her lip. “I’m sorry I dumped y’all’s breakfast on you. Can I get you anything else?”
Beth shook her head and smiled. “It’s all good. I think we’re set for now.”
“Well, bon appétit.”
“Angie,” Birdie McCorkle quietly called and motioned for her to come over.
Angelique sighed. The moment of truth. Her butt was so totally fired.
Her hands started to shake. “Birdie, I’m so sorry. I’ll get my stuff out of my locker and“
“And why would you be doing that?” She shook her head.
“Obviously because you have to let me go because of what happened.”