Inn & Out (A Romantic Comedy) (Five More Wishes Book 2) (11 page)

So I should be used to him by now.

And yet.

“He’s not interested in me,” I say and walk around Marcy. I’m a damned good waitress, and I can carry six plates at once. Nobody waits for long when they’re lucky enough to sit at one of my tables.

Stone always sits at my table.

“You’re so stubborn,” Marcy hisses at me, as I pick up the order. “And a liar. Make sure you’re near some water because you’re pants are on fire.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m not lying. He doesn’t care about me.”

I serve an old married couple and then it’s time for Stone. He’s reading the menu, even though he has to have it memorized, since it hasn’t changed in the twenty-eight years that I’ve been alive.

“What can I get for you?” I ask, pulling out my pencil and order pad. He looks up from his menu, giving me a good dose of his drool-worthy, beautiful green eyes.

Damn. His drool-worthy, beautiful green eyes are my trigger. Normally, I’m an intelligent, put-together, woman, but when he looks at me, I turn into a spastic idiot.

Stone Jenkins has always made my body react in a very specific way. Besides the throbbing, melting, pelvis on fire kind of way, I get a chemical reaction from him that affects my neurological system. He’s like some kind of World War One chemical weapon, totally against the Geneva Conventions.

When in close contact with Stone, first I gasp, like I’ve been underwater for thirteen minutes and get my first whiff of oxygen. After the gasp, my body spasms violently. And for the finale, my bones turn soft, and I fall. As hard as it is to believe, this is my reaction every single time I see Stone Jenkins. Every time I get up close and personal, my decades of pent up puppy love takes over, like a Rottweiler in heat.

And I get up close and personal with Stone every night he’s on the island. He orders, I wait on him, and I have a seizure.

Tonight is no different. We lock eyes, and I gasp. My body convulses, and my arm unbends with amazing force, throwing the pencil from my hand like a dagger over Stone’s head and into the wall.

“Oh,” I breathe. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened…”

And then the finale comes, and my knees buckle, throwing me head first onto Stone’s table, where I knock off the condiments with a crash to the floor and throw up a cloud of sugar and salt into the air.

Stone jumps up and scoops me up off the table. “Are you okay?” he asks, clutching my shoulders. I will my Stone chemical reaction to end, but he’s touching me. I can feel the heat of his hands through the polyester sleeves of my uniform. I will myself to act normal. How much humiliation can a woman take?

“I’m fine,” I say. “There must have been something slick on the floor, and I slipped.” I say this to a spot about three inches above Stone’s head, because I don’t trust myself to make eye contact with him again.

Stone nods and sits down. This is the game we’ve been playing for years. I act like a lunatic, and he pretends it’s all normal. A lesser man would sit at a different table. A different man might suggest I get an MRI to see what’s happening in my screwed up brain. But Stone just tidies up the condiments and closes his menu.

“I think I’ll try the meatloaf tonight, Norma,” he says.

“I’m hearing good things about the chicken fried steak tonight,” I say, talking to my order pad.

“Okay. Chicken fried steak. Give me a cup of coffee with that, too, please. With…”

“Lots of cream,” I finish for him. “Coming right up.”

I take a deep breath and walk away from the table as fast I can. I place the order with the kitchen and rest my hand on the counter, trying to catch my breath.

I’m so pathetic.

“Smooth,” Marcy says, sauntering up to me. “Real smooth.”

“Every damned time. It’s like I’m allergic to him.”

“He’s staring at you.”

I don’t dare look his way. “He’s probably wondering how I survived to adulthood when I’m such a klutz.”

“Nope. He’s looking at your ass.”

“No he’s not,” I say, smacking her arm. I’m dying to sneak a peek to see if Marcy is telling the truth, but I don’t dare. Lord knows what else I’d break.

“He’s looking at your ass and he’s got an I-need-me-some-of-that expression.”

I grab her and pull her into the back. “Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. He’s not looking at me like that.”

“You know why he always reads the menu, even though he knows what’s on it? He’s looking to see if they added a Norma entrée. Or a Norma dessert. That man is
hungry
for you.”

Her words are too much for me to handle. It’s like being teased about a winning lottery ticket when all you really have is the bonus number. I grab a nearby frying pan and wield it over my head. “Shut up. If you don’t stop lying, I will pound you into schnitzel.”

She puts her hands up in surrender. “Fine. Fine. Mr. Smoldering Hotness isn’t looking at your ass. He doesn’t want to get naked with you.”

“Exactly,” I say, smoothing out my uniform. “I’m just the woman who spills food on him every night. And he’s my brother’s best friend.”

 “Your brother is in Alaska. You two could do a whole lot of damage before your brother ever gets wind of it.”

“He would never. I could never. And my brother would…”

I’m babbling. I’m drooling. I can’t allow myself to fantasize about it. It’s an impossible situation. Besides, Stone doesn’t like me. He just sits at my table every night.

“Well look at that!” A woman yells from the dining room.

“What an ass!” An old man yells. “I could use that ass to crack walnuts! I wish my ass looked like that. Mine looks like someone hung drapes on my backside.”

Marcy arches an eyebrow at me. “What the…?”

We run back into the dining room. There’s a group of diners plastered against the window. Uh oh.

“Is that the new girl? Wow, she must do Pilates,” another diner says, her hands up against the window to see them better.

“Where? Where?” the old man shouts. “Damn this storm. I can’t see a thing. Tell me more about her Pilates.”

I ring my hands. This is supposed to be a family diner, not a hoochie-mama floor show. Stone catches my eye and stands.

“All done,” he roars. “Food’s getting cold. Get back to your seats.”

“Shut up, Stone,” a man starts, but after taking a quick look at Stone’s face, he clears his throat. Stone is a big hulk of man, used to daily, hard physical labor. I once saw him lift a refrigerator over his head. “Nothing to see here,” the old man tells the group, nudging them to disburse.

“It’s harder to see, anyway,” a young woman says, walking back to her table. “It’s coming down like cats and dogs. I wonder if we’ll get a hurricane.”

We don’t get hurricanes, but she’s right about it coming down like cats and dogs. It’s going to be a long walk in the rain after work. Summer Island doesn’t allow cars, except for emergency vehicles. On any given day, the island is swarming with golf carts, bicycles, and Segway’s. I prefer walking, but today I have a longer walk than normal, and I’m going to get drenched. But I promised to housesit and dog sit for Ruby Freed for the weekend, and I can’t get out of it. Her poor dog Bark is probably already scared to death from the storm.

I take care of all my tables, leaving Stone for last. “You want some dessert?” I ask him, again focusing three inches above his head.

“Sure. Did you get a new uniform? You look nice. I mean, even nicer than normal. You always look nice.”

I do? I gurgle, unable to say thank you. Damn it. Get it together, Norma.

“No, it’s my normal uniform.” I tug at it self-consciously and rip it along the seam. Oh, geez.

“I’ll get you some pie,” I say and turn on my heel.

The diner door opens, and two firefighters walk in with their raincoats dripping on the floor. They hang them up and take a seat at one of Marcy’s tables. “Eat quickly, folks,” one of them announces. “There’s a doozy of a storm on its way. We’re closing the pier and asking townspeople to stay inside.” There’s a lot of questions about weather and electric grid. With the threat of bad weather now real, there’s a flurry of new orders, as if the diners are trying to lay down a layer of fat in case they can’t get to food for weeks.

Finally, I’m free to go. Marcy hands me a plastic bag to put over my head. “What good is this?” I ask. “So my hairdo doesn’t get ruined?” I have a bob, and I normally only drip dry it.

She takes the plastic bag from me and places it on my head. “You two looked just like the couple from
The Notebook
when you dropped the slice of pie on him,” she whispers.

“Marcy, my uniform is ripped, his shirt is stained from the blueberry pie I dropped on him, and now I have a plastic bag on my head. I’m not sure we’re the couple that Nicholas Sparks had in mind.”

“Mark my words,” she says, walking me to the diner’s front door. “
The Notebook
. Totally.”

I open the door and walk out into the storm. I push through the rain and the wind. After a few steps, I take off the plastic bag, since I’m already soaked through. The diner is a half block from the Summer Island plaza, and I have to cross it on my way to Ruby’s house. In the center of the plaza is a new fountain, which is some kind of historical monument. It’s ugly and dry with cracked plaster, but it’s a regular draw for wishers with a coin to toss. As a waitress, I’m lousy with coins, and for once, a wish nags at me, and I decide to give it a go.

With all of the rain, there are a couple inches of water at the bottom of the fountain. I fish a quarter out of my purse and clutch it firmly in my fist.
I never want to think about Stone again. No more Stone reaction. No more fantasies about him. He’ll never be anything more in my life than table number three.
With my wish made, I toss the coin in. It goes in without a lot of fanfare because the storm is in full force, and it drowns out any noise that the coin makes. But I hope the wish works. I’m tired of being tortured by Stone’s presence. I want to be a smart, put-together woman again, and I can’t be that if I suffer through the Stone reaction every night.

“Need any help?” I hear behind me. It’s Thor and Beryl in his open-sided golf cart. He’s stopped by the fountain and is sticking his head out. “You want a ride?”

They’re hanging on each other with a look that only multiple orgasms can make. They also look like they’re in a hurry to get back to the inn to continue what they started. “No, thank you. I like walking in the rain,” I lie. Frankly, I don’t want to be a fifth wheel, especially when I’ve just wished to do away with my monster crush, and they’re obviously in love. “Besides, I’m going in the opposite direction of the High Tide Inn. I’m taking care of Bark while Ruby’s away this weekend.”

“Are you sure?” Thor asks. “It’s coming down pretty hard.”

“You’re welcome to ride with us,” Beryl says, smiling. Her long red hair clings to her cheeks in wet strips, and I can see right through her soaked clothes. She looks like she’s floating in a cloud of euphoria.

“I’ll be fine,” I say. “Thank you. I’m looking forward to the walk and the relaxing weekend alone with Bark. It’ll be fun to ride out the storm in her cozy house. I need a major chill out session.”

Now that I say it out loud, I realize that I really am looking forward to the weekend at Ruby’s alone with the dog. Ruby lives at the end of a long country road with no neighbors to pester me. Living on a small island means that everyone knows my business. It’ll be wonderful to spend a weekend without anyone bothering me and nothing to do except watch cable and eat Ruby’s stash of homemade fudge.

Discover how it all began with the
Going Down
, book 1 in the Five Wishes Series:

CHAPTER 1

I clutch my lucky silver dollar firmly in my hand. I don’t want to give it up, but this wish is really important, and I can’t leave it up to chance.

I’m down to my last two hundred bucks. I’m a month behind in my rent, and I’m in pain from giving myself my own bikini wax in order to save money. Nothing can get between me and this wish coming true.

The wishing fountain is in the center of town, right next to my apartment. In fact, I can see it from my bedroom window, but this is the first time that I’m trying it out. I’ve been saving up my wish for when I’m desperate. And boy, am I desperate.

It’s the ugliest fountain I’ve ever seen, bone dry with just a few coins, dirt, and a used condom at its bottom. But it’s famous for its wishes. I’m not crazy to believe in it. It has a long history as a wishing fountain. It’s been on the news. Katie Couric. Oprah.

I focus on my wish, pull my arm back, and release the coin.

Please let me get this role.

Please let me ace this audition.

With my wish out into the universe, I shut my eyes and throw the silver dollar into the fountain. It lands on the cracked plaster, making a loud clanking sound in the town square.

A breeze blows, which I take as a good sign. I swear I feel different, like I’m infused with good luck. I sure need some good luck. I open my eyes, half expecting an angel to appear, or at the very least, a leprechaun.

But I’m on my own. The sleepy little town of Esperanza isn’t exactly bustling with people on its busiest day, and today it’s particularly dead.

I step down from the fountain and go on my way. I don’t have to go far. Just across the street to the diner, which is located on the bottom floor of my apartment building.

Built in the 1950’s, the building is no-frills and covered in pink stucco. There are twelve units and four flights. I’m on the top floor, next to the landlord.

This location has its good points and its drawbacks. I get woken up every morning with the smell of fresh coffee brewing from the diner downstairs, which is a good point. However, I’m also tempted to eat a slice of Mack’s homemade cherry pie to go along with it, which is a drawback.

And that’s the other plus and drawback: Mack.

I open the door to the diner, making the bell ring. The diner is enjoying a lull in the day, that time between breakfast and lunch where everyone is busy at work or at home. Mack is wiping off a table but looks up when I enter.