Chapter 53 We Can Do It
Chapter 53 We Can Do It
—Are you going to stand there all day? —George barks at me, making me jump. Why does he feel the need to shout all his orders? It doesn’t help at all. If anything, it makes it worse. For me, all it does is bring back memories of my father.He looks at me intently, and the expression feels familiar. My father used to give me that look all the time, and it's the one that makes me feel stupid. Or at least, that's what they think— that I am. At this point, I wonder if they're right, considering how often I make a fool of myself. —I wanted to say... — He takes my hand to my face and then down my body. I take a step back, and the sound of my sneakers peeling off the sticky floor makes him shout at me again. —Go away! I turn around and run out through the swinging door that separates the kitchen from the dining room. I don't wait for George to finish what he was about to say. A few people turn to look at me, and I slow my pace. I don't want to draw attention as I head to the other end of the dining room. My eyes fix on Booker, but I can't see his face. He has his head bowed, reading the menu, and his Stetson hat hides his face. —Watch out. — A body bumps into my side, causing me to drop my notebook. —Sorry, — I murmured, seeing that it's Parson. I bend down quickly to grab the notebook before moving away from him. —You will. — I think I hear him say softly. He’s one of the many who are always watching me. I think in my entire life I’ve only spoken three words to him. I know a lot of people from this town, just that I don’t really know them. When I was growing up, that wasn’t allowed. Booker lifts his head, and his piercing green eyes lock onto mine. Once again, a flutter stirs inside me, and I’m the first to break eye contact. It’s hard to tell what Booker is thinking or feeling because his expression is unreadable, and he always appears so stoic.
I’ve heard all the good things he’s done for Mittenville since I returned to the city, but he still remains distant. It’s not hard to find out what’s going on in town while working at the café. I hear everything without even trying.
—Sorry. —When I reach into the front of my apron, I realize it already has several stains. I’ve only been here an hour, and I’m already a mess. I grab my notepad, hold it tightly in my hand, and let out a sigh.
This isn’t how I imagined my life would be, but it’s never been like that. One by one, all my options disappeared, and now I’m back in Mittenville. The town that hates me. Well, it’s hatred out of power because I never did anything to them. What they hate is my father, but he left the city.
When I was younger, I was treated like royalty, but honestly, that wasn’t much better. It was always fake, and at least now I know what they really think. I don’t really care much for my father either, but promises are promises. Right? I’m no longer so sure. When my thoughts drift to my grandfather, I push aside my doubts about being back in Mittenville.
—Don’t make Booker wait. He never comes here.
George lit up like a Christmas tree when Booker entered through the front door and rang the bell. That bell haunts my dreams. I should feel excited when I hear it because it means another customer is coming in. But all it does is knot my stomach.
Booker Pine is the new royalty of the town. His ranch has expanded significantly over the years, and he's really made a name for himself. In fact, they put his picture outside the library. I loved that place. Whenever I could convince my father to let me go to town, I went.
It's not that I can blame everyone for falling in love with Booker. I felt the same way the first time I saw him. Since then, every time I see him, my heart races with excitement. Along with other parts of my body.
— Maybe Joy should take him? — I suggest. She’s been here forever and can work in this place with her eyes closed. It’s really impressive to see her go. She tries to help me, but I have two left feet and keep messing up every order. Joy says that if I calm down, I won’t get so nervous, but the more I try, the worse I do.
— No, I want to send something that can convince him to come back.
— Should I bring him one of the cinnamon rolls? — Joy even bakes all the pastries here. I could live on cinnamon rolls, and now that Christmas is approaching, she’s been adding festive sprinkles to the glaze. At this point, I’m living off them because she gives me extra for free.
— What? — She tilts her head. I don’t know how she keeps her shiny bald head under her chef’s hat. Don’t you wear a hat when you cook so your hair doesn’t get in the way? The only hair George has is her overly thick eyebrows and nose hairs.