“We’ve got to pick up the pace, people.” Gina would be damned if everything didn’t go out to Tiffany’s table at the same time.
She went into overdrive, first filling the waffle makers with batter, then slapping a couple of burger patties onto the skillet. Meanwhile, Laney focused on the tuna melts and ladled creamy tomato soup that Jimmy Ray had made the night before from a giant pot on the stove. Within minutes, Gina loaded Laney and Maria up with plates and everyone in Tiffany’s party got their food on time.
Another rush of diners came through the door and Gina started the process all over again. Finally, at three, business let up. JoJo went outside to smoke a cigarette while Gina set up a new mise en place for the dinner service.
The time went by so quickly that Gina didn’t even notice the change in light outside as the afternoon turned to dusk. She’d been so pumped full of adrenaline that she’d barely taken a break, let alone looked out the window.
It was madness but addictive.
“We did it!” She high-fived JoJo, Laney, and Maria, who’d stayed for a second shift.
Laney and Jimmy Ray ran a skeleton crew. Most of the time, Laney handled the front of the house by herself.
“You did it.” Laney took off her apron, balled it up, and threw it in a hamper near the back door. Then she reached up and grabbed a bottle of whiskey off the top shelf of the appliance rack and poured them each a shot. “What Jimmy Ray don’t know won’t hurt him.” Apparently it was his private stash.
“Salute.” Gina threw back the brown liquid and shuddered as it burned her throat.
After the others left, she stayed to help Laney put the dining room back into some semblance of order for the next day. “You think Jimmy Ray will be better by tomorrow? If not…I could help out again.”
“Nah, if he’s not up to it I’m closing the restaurant. It’ll be the first time since Jimmy Ray had his bypass surgery. To be honest, I could use the break.” Laney sagged onto a stool behind the counter, kicked off her clogs, and rubbed her feet.
“You done good, skinny girl.” Laney opened the cash register, pulled out a wad of bills, and stuffed them into Gina’s hand.
“What’re you doing?” Gina tried to give the money back but Laney wouldn’t take it.
“You work, you get paid, child.”
“I did it as a favor, not for money.” This time, Gina attempted to shove the bills into the pocket of Laney’s dress, but the woman slapped her hand away. “Oh for goodness sake, I’m rich, Laney.”
“Makes no difference to me. Like I said, you work, you get paid.”
“Fine, I’ll just throw the money on the floor. Good night.” She placed the bills next to the cash register and this time used the front door.
She was halfway to the ranch when she remembered that she’d left her floppy hat and sunglasses at the coffee shop. Oh well, it was time to get a new disguise.
Chapter 20
That evening, Sawyer was sitting on Jace’s front porch, drinking a beer, when they saw a yellow Lamborghini coming up the road.
“Who the hell’s that?” Jace looked at his watch. “Too late to be one of Charlie’s customers. Besides, she’s at a Chamber of Commerce meeting. And Aubrey’s still in San Francisco with Cash.”
Sawyer took another swig from his bottle. “Sweet ride.”
Jace hitched his shoulders. “Kind of douchey, if you ask me.”
Yeah, Sawyer could see that. The car was a little loud. And the driver was stirring up enough dust to choke every living thing on the ranch.
Jace got to his feet and stood at the railing, shielding his eyes against the sun. “We should probably start locking the gate in the evening.”
Sawyer nodded and finished his beer as they both watched the sports car wend its way up the road to the ranch house. Brakes screeched when the driver spotted them and the passenger-side window came down.
“You lost?” Jace hollered.
“Not sure. I’m looking for Gina DeRose. She’s staying on the Dry Creek Ranch. That’s what the gate said off Dry Creek Road. Is there a resort around here by the same name?”
Sawyer and Jace exchanged glances, then Jace said, “Nope.”
The guy sat there, waiting for Jace to say more, but he didn’t. Sawyer smothered a laugh. His cousin could be a real son of a gun.
