He gave me one more searing lookbefore he hopped down from my truck and ambled back across the street toLilou.
I stared at his back in completewonder as he walked away. I didn’t think my fake review would bring out thatkind of reaction from him. I wasn’t even sure what to do with that reaction!
Well, I wasn’t sure until my phonepinged with a notification. What I should have done was shake off Killian’sskin and scent and get to work on dinner service. Instead, I stupidly checkedmy phone thinking it might be him.
I swiped my phone open and instantlyregretted it. The notification wasn’t from Killian.
It was from Derrek.
He’d messaged my personal account onFacebook. The one I’d been reluctant to create just because I was terrified ofsomething like this happening.
The message, from the familiarprofile picture of Derrek Hanover, simply said, “Where did you go?”
That was it. That was all he said, butit was enough to have me contemplating running off to Europe again. All Iwanted to do was run away. All I wanted to do was deactivate my account and setmy computer on fire. My smartphone too, while I was at it. I wanted to curlinto a ball on the floor and cry for the rest of the night. Maybe the rest ofthe week.
But most of all I wanted to go backto before the message, to when I was lusting after Killian Quinn andconsidering that maybe life wasn’t full of lemons and sour moments. That maybethere was something good out there too.
Only my heart knew better. My hopewas wiser than that. Because if I’d learned anything in twenty-six years, itwas that if something bad could happen, it would happen.
And Derrek Hanover was the bad thingthat just kept happening to me.
So maybe his message was a goodreminder. It made me wake up where Killian was concerned anyway. It made merealize that I didn’t want a relationship or to ever be put in a position whereI had to trust another man ever again.
I had moved on from Derrek. I hadopened a business and learned to manage my life. The only reason for Derrek tobe anywhere in my life these days was as a cautionary tale of failed love. Andnothing else.
But that’s all Killian would be too.A bullet dodged. An awkward circumstance avoided. I friend that would alwaysstay a friend.
Chapter Thirteen
The next weekend I stood at the pickupwindow, listening to a customer list off everything he hated about mybuttermilk fried chicken and jalapeno waffles. It was Friday night, and so far,things had not gone smoothly at all.
They hadn’t gone well Thursday nighteither. I contemplated giving up this dish altogether and abandoning profit forthe weekend. But I was too stubborn to admit defeat. Plus, I couldn’t afford togive up.
I could agree with the guy that myfried chicken was nothing like his grandmother’s. I’d used a tempura fry on chickentenderloins. Because they were easier to eat than a hunky breast or thigh. Andto be honest, because they were super cheap this week.
My waffles were alsononconventional. I’d grabbed my dad’s ancient waffle iron that hadn’t been usedsince my mom was alive and made the batter with diced jalapenos andsriracha. I’d been going for a savory/spicy/sweet kind ofmashup.
I’d been optimistic in my test run.My waffle had been fluffy. Maybe a little too spicy, but it looked pretty. Mychicken had been crispy. And the maple syrup tied everything together.
Unfortunately, made in massquantities, I wasn’t nearly as proud. I’d made the executive decision to banall future chicken and waffle ideas until the end of time. Forever and ever,amen.
I just had to get through theweekend first. And then the cleanup process. The interior of my truck was coatedin maple syrup, thanks to Molly’s offering to fill up the to-go ramekins. Andwaffle batter had dried in big, bulbous clumps all over the counter, the floorand me.
And this wasn’t the first customerto complain. My entire night had been one upset customer after another.
Okay, maybe that was anexaggeration. But there had been enough complaints to send me into a tailspinof existential crisis. What was I even doing with my life???
I still had at least two hours left.Jesus, take the wheel.
“Sir,” I tried gently at first.Gently didn’t work. “Sir!” He paused in his tirade. “Would you like your moneyback?”
He snorted. “Obviously.”
I picked the remnants of my dignityoff the ground and accepted the ten dollar bill from Molly. “I apologize againfor the waffles being so hot.” I offered him a genuinely sincere smile when Ihanded his money back to him. “The menu is different every weekend, though. Ihope you give us another shot soon.”
He snarled a terse, “Not a chance inhell.” Luckily for me, it was easy to pretend he’d said, “I’d like that aswell,” instead.
What separated humans from animals?The incredible ability to plant our feet in denial. Beautiful, blissful denial.
