Page 26 of Just Ten Seconds

“Plating now, pretty.” He’s focused on lifting the flapjacks off the griddle and putting them on the plate.

I grab the powdered sugar and a scoop of fresh berries and set the plate after he hands it to me.

“I also need those two orders of—”

Manny puts two plates of crab Benedict on the silver counter before I can finish my sentence. I serve the food and then walk to the tables on my side of the café while Jackie handles hers.

Attempting to put my past life behind me, I try to focus on the place I’m in right now. A sweet neighborhood café where the tips are decent, the music plays all day, and no one ever stays long enough to ask questions.

“Hey, Mara,” a strong voice sounds from the doorway.

It doesn’t take a second for me to know the distinct smoothness of Dean’s vibrato.

I turn around and adjust my shirt in my apron.

“Hi,” I say in a raspy voice before clearing my throat and giving a hardy, “Hey.”

Dean’s face is set in a guarded, closed-mouth smile. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah.” I brush a hair behind my ear. It falls in front of my eye, so I brush it back again, but the damn thing won’t stay back.

He reaches out to catch the rogue hair and tuck it behind my ear. As he does, his hand flinches lightly, as if realizing he probably shouldn’t be doing such an intimate act. With the clearing of his throat, he leans back on his heels and throws his hands deep into his denim pockets.

“Someone”—he nudges toward Amanda, who is standing by his side—“demanded we stop in and thank you for your help the other day.”

She’s sporting a new hot-pink cast, which she seems pretty in awe of. “The doctor said I can have friends sign it!”

Her cherub face looks up at her dad with excitement. He ruffles her ponytail and then pats her back.

“That’s great!” I say a little too enthusiastically and then realize she’s waving a Sharpie at me. “Oh, you want me to sign it?”

“Of course,” she says.

I take the marker from her and sign my first name on the cast with a little heart. “It’s gonna itch, but don’t put anything inside the cast to scratch it.”

“My dad said some people use hangers to scratch an itch under a cast.” The little girl beams.

Dean hangs his head. “I shouldn’t have told you that.”

“Don’t worry. She’ll probably use a pencil like every other kid,” I say with a smile before getting a serious face on as I look at Amanda. “Not that I want you doing that. No hangers. No pencils. Got it?”

She sharply nods once. “Got it!”

My face is set in a smile as I stare at her bright eyes, but when I look up to Dean, my mouth turns downward at the way he’s eyeing me.

He renders me senseless with how he looks at me with great intensity, and yet there’s tenderness in the way he gazes at Amanda interacting with me. It’s as if she’s his litmus test, and I’ve passed into some circle of trust I didn’t even know I was asking to be a part of.

“We’re here to pick up our bikes,” she says.

“Yes.” I clap my hands. Why did I just clap my hands? “Your bikes. They’re in the back.”

Jackie appears next to us with her hand on her hip in a very friendly-waitress-from-your-neighborhood-diner kind of way. “Hello there!” She’s beaming like an idiot. “I’m Jackie. We didn’t formally meet the other day.”

“I’m Amanda,” she states matter-of-factly. “And this is my dad. Mara’s going to show us where our bikes are. Wanna see my cast?”

Jackie eyes me and then blinks at Dean. She slings her arm around Amanda. “Cool cast, kid. I love the pink. Are you staying for lunch?” She grabs two menus off the counter, really not giving them an easy out to say no.

Amanda glances over her shoulder at her dad. “Lunch? Yes! Can I have pancakes?”