It’s covered with a turquoise blanket and various shapes and sizes of cushions. I grab the round one and flop my head onto it the second my stomach hits the mattress.
“I’ll get the rest of your stuff.”
My eyes are closed by the time Annie returns with my boots and jacket. She lays them down beside the bed. The ethereal light up here catches the side of Annie’s face, making her glow.
Her lips twitch with a smile, and it’s the last thing I see before my eyes drift shut again.
“I’ll work on those clothes for you.” Her hand rests lightly on my bare back, the cool digits a sweet balm. “And I’ll be back to check on you during my next break. You take it easy.”
I grunt, already heading back to dreamland.
For a moment, I think I feel her kiss me on the forehead, but I’m not sure if it’s just a dream.
14
A Bad Case of Abernathy
Okay, so it’s safe to say I shouldn’t become a cop.
I knew I had to question Michael when I spoke to him this morning. Mirren’s words circled my head like vultures last night. I barely got any sleep, but by the time I’d prepared Michael’s breakfast, I knew what I had to ask. Unfortunately, I was so edgy doing it that I just accepted each of his answers without any kind of argument.
That’s so unlike me.
But… he looked to be telling the truth. Those big sad eyes of his. The way he gazed at me made my heart melt.
Whoever’s after him, I hope they fail. I can’t imagine Michael hurting someone. He said he didn’t deserve that bullet, and I know all about not deserving things. So I’m gonna help him as best I can.
Aw, his gorgeous face.
I couldn’t resist brushing my lips across his forehead before I left. I know I should want him to recover quickly, but a small part of me hopes he takes his time. I want to get to know him better. To be able to study the fine lines of his athletic torso.
My insides jitter as I picture his hot body, all long and lean and muscly. Not bulky muscle like Billy, but that athletic kind that looks sculpted and has all those amazing shapes. The kind you want to run your fingers over so you can experience every curve and groove.
Wiping a hand across my hot cheeks, I work to straighten out my expression before Celia sees me. I can’t have her wondering why I’m blushing. I need to stop thinking about Michael’s chest and abs and the way his hips felt under my fingers as I guided him up to the attic.
Shoot, I really need to figure out where I’m gonna get him some clean clothes.
Maybe Billy will loan me some, although they’ll probably be way too big for Michael.
I text Franks with an update and put in my request.
She’s back within seconds.
* * *
Franks: I might be able to borrow something off Billy’s little brother. I’ll drop it off after school, and be ready to talk. I need EVERYTHING, Annie Bird!
* * *
I chuckle, slip through the kitchen door and breeze past Mateo, not even bothering to look at what he’s ruining. I’m in a good mood, and I don’t want anything to hamper that.
“I’m back, Celia. You can go on your break now.”
“Thank you, my girl.” She kisses my cheek like she always does, then starts making herself a coffee. She usually spends her morning break in Chau’s bookstore. It’s the perfect place to wander around, sipping coffee, reading books or gossiping with the town’s know-it-all. Buckland Springs actually has a few of them, but Chau’s the nice one. She doesn’t gossip with meanness. She just likes to chat about what people are up to. More often than not, she’s saying kind words or admiring things. You know she’s unhappy with someone if she doesn’t talk about them.
We’re not actually supposed to take morning breaks, but since Celia and I are both in here before the crack of dawn setting things up, we decided that sneaking out for a little break before Dean drags his lazy ass out of bed was a solid plan. So we give each other twenty minutes every morning right after the early-breakfast rush.
We always get a lull before the late breakfast, early lunch crowd kicks in.
I grab my pad and pen, heading out to cover Celia’s tables. There are three, which is totally manageable, except for the fact that one of them is occupied by Mrs. Abernathy. If I thought the mayor was bad, his wife is even worse.
Dammit. Why couldn’t she leave while I was out? I’ve already had to serve her this morning, and I was hoping she’d pay up and get going while I was with Michael.
She clicks her fingers at me, and I steel myself, forcing a closed-mouth smile as I approach the table.
“Take these.” She leans back so I can pick up her empty plate and dirty coffee cup. I’m tempted to just walk away with them, but if I want any hope of a tip, I need to use my manners.
“Is there anything else I can get you?”
“After a meal like that, I don’t think so. The coffee was okay, and the pie was obviously faultless because Ma Baker is a genius, but the rest…” She trails off with a pointed look that gets my back up every time. Darby Abernathy knows how to make a statement without actually using words.
If she doesn’t like the food, maybe she should stop eating here!
I’m pretty sure she’s fishin’ for an it’s on the house. She’s taking her sweet time getting her wallet out of her purse and slowly counting the bills.
She fluffs around with the coins, placing down the exact change. I haven’t even prepared her check yet, but she knows the cost because she orders the same thing every morning she comes here—two eggs, sunny-side up with bacon and hash browns, followed by a slice of pie. Because, you know, what’s breakfast without dessert, right?
She isn’t getting a freebie, regardless of her deliberate movements. If anything, they make me want to charge her more. Biting my lips together, I’m about to turn and go ring up her check when she starts talking again.
“The service was also a little on the slow side.” She gives me a smarmy smile and lays down two quarters. “I really can’t in good conscience tip you any more than that.”
Fifty cents. Is she kidding me?
I blink at the two coins, quickly working out that she’s tipping me about three percent. “Wow, Mrs. Abernathy, your generosity abounds. Maybe you should be preachin’ instead of Reverend White this weekend. You could talk about the gift of givin’.”
The woman’s soft jowls do a little jiggle, her thin red lips disappearing inside her wrinkled frown. “Well, aren’t we Miss High and Mighty. I don’t think your daddy would appreciate you talkin’ to customers this way.”
“He’s not my daddy.” The words come out as a husky growl. I’m so sick of this damn conversation and the fact that this stupid town keeps denying who my real father is!
Mrs. Abernathy’s expression pinches. She hasn’t liked me since before I was born. As soon as people found out my mama was pregnant by Mr. Golden Boy, they turned on her. It didn’t help that he denied it. Asshole.
Mrs. Abernathy’s daughter was dating him at the time, but even though he cried foul, calling my sweet, beautiful mother a liar, it ruined the relationship. And Darby Abernathy has never forgiven Mama for it.