Chapter 4

Rolling over in bed, I realize my T-shirt is damp, meaning my fever must’ve broken overnight. I lean over to look at the alarm clock on my night stand, and it’s not quite 4AM. I practically slept for an entire day. The only time I was awake was when LuAnne came by and I took a shower and ate some soup, which she managed not to burn. Color me impressed.

Slipping off the side of the bed, I test the waters and place my feet on the cold floor. Sometimes, it’s hard to tell if you still feel bad while you’re lying in bed. Regardless of how bad my body still aches, my fever’s gone, so I’m going to work.

And since I’m up early, I might as well go ahead and get dressed.

If I get there early enough, I can make an extra pie for Nathan as a down payment on his loan.

Once I drag myself to the bathroom, I take a minute to look at myself. My brown eyes look exhausted, highlighted by the dark circles under them. My brown hair is a mess. The freckles across my nose that I’ve always hated are more pronounced due to the paleness of my face. I look like death.

But at least I’m not dead.

I’m breathing.

Things could be worse.

So, I force myself into the shower and twenty minutes later, when I glance back in the mirror, it’s not quite as bad. The dark circles are still there, but my hair is tamed back in a ponytail and there’s a little color back in my cheeks. It’ll have to do for today.

On my way downstairs, I stop by my super’s apartment to slip my rent in the slot on his door. The reality of what Nathan did for me sinks in a little further, and I hesitate for a moment.

The notice by the door, stating that all tenants who have not paid the previous month’s rent in full by the twenty-fifth will be evicted, makes me drop the money before I can rethink it, or overthink it.

Nathan seems like a perfectly nice guy. Deep down, somehow, I know his intentions are honest.

Or at least, I hope they are.

I’m sure we can work something out.

***

Mack is already in the kitchen prepping for the breakfast rush. Sometimes, I think he lives here.

Maybe he sleeps in the office?

“Hey, Mack,” I say as the back door closes behind me. I pull a clean apron off the hook by the door and wrap it twice around my waist, tying it in the front.

“Hey, Kadi,” he says, looking up. “Hearing LuAnne talk, I wasn’t sure you’d be in today. Feeling better?”

“I think so. No fever this morning, so …”

“That’s good. We had a lot of unhappy customers yesterday when they found out there wasn’t any pie.”

“Job security,” I tell him, laughing on my way to the walk-in freezer for supplies.

“I think you slip something in those pies,” he teases. “Whatcha making for us today?”

“Well,” I say, pausing to peruse the shelves, “looks like I have everything for a cherry and maybe a fresh apple, unless you’ve got plans for these?” I hold up the bag of Granny Smiths.

“Nope. All yours, kiddo.”

“Thanks.” I drop all the ingredients on the counter and get to work. “Hey, Mack?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I pay you for the ingredients for another pie? You can take it out of my check, if that’s okay.”

“What’s it for?” he asks, not saying no, just being nosy.

“For Nathan—that guy who gave me the huge tip that one day,” I tell him, pouring flour into a large bowl. “He gave me two hundred dollars the other day … for nothing, just because I was sick. And he told LuAnne to send me home.” I mull it all over as I tell Mack. “It felt weird. No one’s ever done anything like that before. I mean, I’ve had a couple weirdos over the years who thought a fat tip would get them some extra service, but he’s different. Never even tried to give me his number or anything.”

“So, what’s the pie for?” Mack asks.

“Just thought it’d be a good start to paying him back. He really seems to like pie.”

“Or just your pie.” Mack snorts as he dices potatoes.

“Stop,” I say, feeling my cheeks flame, just like they do every time someone mentions Nathan liking more than just the pie or my pie. “I think he’s just a nice guy. Innocent until proven guilty and all that.”

“If he makes you feel uncomfortable, you come see me.” His voice is stern and final. He doesn’t say much, but one thing about Mack is he never lets anyone take advantage of his girls. The day of the dry-cleaning fiasco, he was ready to shove that guy’s pants down his throat, but I told him not to worry about it. Mack’s temper is why LuAnne and I take care of the front. He’s not a people person.

“I will,” I tell him, even though I don’t see myself needing him to come to my rescue. At least, not with Nathan. For some reason, I want to deal with him all on my own. He intrigues me.

Among other things.

But I’m not going to let myself go there.

Just like I told Mack, as of now, he’s a nice guy who did a nice deed. I won’t read anything else into it.

***

After letting Nathan’s pie cool, I wrap it in Saran Wrap and then some foil. I dug around in the storage room for a box but came up empty-handed, so a grocery sack will have to do. This is a “don’t judge a book by its cover” moment.

When LuAnne tells me I’m up at table ten, I look at the large clock on the wall and know this is my cue.

Setting the grocery sack down on the table in front of him, I preface it by saying, “The pie is a hell of a lot better than the presentation.”

He looks up with a quizzical arch of his eyebrow.

“It’s a, uh, down payment of sorts.”

He glances back at the pie, and a small smile creeps onto his lips.

Very nice lips.

I roll my eyes at myself before continuing. “It’ll take me forever to come up with the two hundred dollars, but I will pay you back.” I look down at my apron and smooth the front out of nervous habit. “And, um … thank you for that.”

“Feeling better?” he asks, cutting off my nervous rambling. He meets my eyes and gives me a once over. The way his gaze travels around my body feels like more than just observation, but that could be me and my overactive imagination.

“Much.” I place a clean coffee cup in front of him and walk to the counter behind me for a hot pot of coffee.

As I’m filling his cup, I watch him peek into the sack and inhale deeply.

“Blueberry?” he asks, taking another whiff.

“Blueberry Lemon,” I tell him, smiling, because those have been his two favorites so far. “Especially for you.”

His tongue darts out and licks at his bottom lip, and I have to swallow hard to keep from making inappropriate noises.

Seriously, I need to get a grip before I do or say something stupid.

“Anyway, thank you. I haven’t had a day off in … I can’t tell you how long and …” I know he doesn’t want to hear my woe-is-me story, so I stop myself. “Just thank you.”

“You don’t have to pay me back. It was a tip,” he says, looking up at me. “And I think we’ve already discussed the fact that there isn’t a cap on how much a customer can tip for good service.”

“I’ve never done anything worth a two-hundred-dollar tip,” I tell him.

He quirks his eyebrow and smirks at that comment, causing me to stutter and stumble over my words.

“Wh—well, what I mean is, uh, that was the second time you’ve bailed me out.” I pause, trying to not get flustered. “I … I don’t take advantage of people, and I won’t feel right unless you let me pay you back.”

There, that’s my final answer. I stand up straight and wait for him to agree, but for some reason, I know it’s not going to be that easy. I can tell by the way he keeps watching me, looking at me. I wish I knew what he was thinking … why he thought it was a good idea to give a waitress two hundred dollars … why this waitress. Does he do this kind of thing all the time?

He nods, clearing his throat. “I know you don’t take advantage of people, Kadi. And I wouldn’t have given you the money if I didn’t want to. If you can’t look at it as a tip, look at it as a gift.”

I hear my name being called from behind me, but I shake my head, giving LuAnne a “one sec” over my shoulder. “You don’t even know me. Not really.”

“Yes, I do.”

“No,” I say a little firmer, feeling my hackles start to rise. “You don’t.”

Nathan tilts his head back and lets out a laugh. It’s glorious. His chiseled jaw is even more defined as the skin tightens. His Adam’s apple bobs slightly. When he looks back at me, his eyes almost twinkle as he narrows them at me. “Stubborn, aren’t we?” He says it almost like it’s a challenge.

I frown at him, not liking the way he’s obviously trying to get under my skin, because it’s working. “I’m not stubborn.”

At this moment, I wish there were a way to get the money back from my super.

I hate owing people.

I hate feeling like someone has the upper hand on me.

I hate someone telling me what I am and am not going to do.

“I’m paying you back.”

I turn and practically stomp back to the kitchen, half-full pot of coffee still in my hand. When I set it down on the counter a little harder than usual, LuAnne’s head snaps up.

“Who ruffled your tail feathers?”

I let out a frustrated groan, smoothing my hair back. “No one.”

“Okay,” she drawls. “Table four needs ketchup, and table five needs refills. Carla called in again … sick kid.”

Of course she did.