Lynne Marshall – Reunited With The Sheriff (страница 8)

He gestured to keep running, then nodded for her to keep talking, too, but she didn’t, so he picked up the conversation “So stop that.”

She tossed him a confused glance. “Feeding people? It’s what I do.”

“Leaving yourself for last.”

Now she was the one to pick up speed. “Sometimes in the restaurant business, that isn’t an option.”

“The Drumcliffe isn’t exactly a high-end restaurant. Maybe you’ll catch a break now that you’re home.” Oops, from her reaction, he’d ruffled her feathers.

“Running a kitchen is a big job, no matter where.” Defensive as hell. “It’s just a tough pace to keep up.”

“I get that.” And speaking of pace, he slowed and motioned for her to turn around with him, heading back toward the hotel. “I’m merely suggesting you feed yourself first, then everybody else. If you pass out no one can get fed, right?”

“I haven’t so far.”

“My mom wouldn’t appreciate you testing out that theory in her kitchen, either.”

“I know, I already tried to set it on fire.”

Finally, she gave up the defensive act, even cracked a self-deprecating joke. They laughed briefly and ironically as they jogged along. Daisy decided to check out Shelby, sniffing in all the usual spots, presumably checking to see if she was female, even while they ran. Shelby shooed her away after patting the dog’s head.

He’d started off on a random topic and somehow managed to rattle her cage. A knack.

But things didn’t feel nearly as awkward as Conor thought they might. In a way, they’d managed to pick up where they’d left off on the old-friend scale. But the rest, the ex-lovers part, would be a topic for another day. After running a long time in companionable silence, they approached the path back to the hotel and something crazy popped into his head because he’d called her Slim. Being around Shelby had always set off nutty ideas.

“Let me buy you breakfast.”

Out of breath, she looked surprised, like she needed a reason. Like she was the last person on earth he should ask out to eat. “I should go home and shower. Get ready for the brunch.”

“Come on, let me buy you breakfast.” His inept way of offering an olive branch. “It’s still really early.”

She stared at him for a few breaths, while he worked on getting used to being around her again. She still rattled him.

“But you hate me,” she said.

“I don’t hate you. I’m mad as hell at you, and don’t know if I can ever forgive you—” he lifted his finger “—but, I don’t hate you.”

“Well, that clears things up.” She glanced out toward the ocean, at her jogging shoes covered in beach sand, then at her watch.

His crazy idea wouldn’t let go, and Shelby had just run several miles, she needed to eat. “Remember the place we used to get burgers at? The Bee Bop Diner?”

“That crazy little place that can’t decide whether to be a fifties diner or a fast-food joint? If The Drumcliffe job hadn’t come through I planned to apply there.”

“Seriously? Then you probably already know they serve a mean all-you-can-eat breakfast. Cheap, too. Come on—my treat.” He didn’t touch her, couldn’t. Not yet. But he started up the pavement, then turned back. “You coming?”

“Okay,” she said, looking like she’d just witnessed the apocalypse.

Over pancakes and eggs, his guard came down just a bit. Surprisingly they were both hungry and didn’t let old emotion get in the way of enjoying a good meal.

They’d been friends long before they’d fallen in love and messed everything up. To clarify, he’d fallen in love and she’d messed everything up. But they still managed to have a civil meal together. Because they were adults now, right? Right.

“So you’ve got a kid.”

“I do. And regardless of how that came about, he’s a joy.” She smiled, her face softening with the mention of her son. “Hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life, but I wouldn’t trade him for anything.”

That certainly set things straight. The boy was first in her life...as he should be. Still, he had a million more questions on that topic that should wait for another day. “He is cute. He’s got your eyes.”

“Thanks.” Her expression spoke a thousand feelings—relief, appreciation and sweetness being the first to pop in his mind.

He might be mad as hell at her, but old habits died hard. “Let’s hope he doesn’t inherit your height, too.”

“Hey.” She knew well how to pretend offense at his chronic teasing.

Their eyes met briefly, and a reminder of what they used to have, how they used to behave around each other, stood out. He looked at his last pancake, suddenly full. But he needed to keep the conversation going, even if he was afraid of what he’d hear. “So what’s it like to work in a big New York kitchen?”

She sighed, pushing the last of her scrambled eggs around her plate. “How do I describe ordered chaos?” She put her fork down, her eyes sparking with enthusiasm. “It’s like a group dance, semi-choreographed, but with pots and pans, and noise, oh, so much noise.” She found the straw wrapper on the table and rolled and unrolled it. “Being part of a kitchen crew is always an accident waiting to happen, tempers ready to flare, insults waiting to get flung.” She glanced at him, and as she sensed his interest, her eyes latched onto his. There went another jolt straight down his chest. “And at the end, a miracle, the food gets plated like a work of art, and everyone loves each other again.” She lifted the straw wrapper to her mouth and blew to make it unfurl, then laughed lightly. “In other words, it’s crazy. Completely nuts. But I love it.”

“The meal you served me was incredible.”

She dipped her head. “Thanks.” After popping a bite of pancake into her mouth, she drank some coffee. “It’s got to be nuts being a deputy sheriff, too. Right?”

“Some days. Yeah.”

The waiter refilled their coffee cups and removed a few of the finished plates from their table.

“These days with those tragic stories around the country, it’s got to be extra hard on you.” She looked sincerely concerned.

“It’s all in the training, I think. We’re into community policing around here, and for a small town like Sandpiper, that works.”

“Didn’t you work in San Diego for a while?”

“Yeah, right out of college, I got in their peace officer training program.”

“I bet you’ve seen it all.” Did she look awestruck?

“I’ve been in some tough situations, that’s for sure.”

“Wow. I think you must have the hardest job in the world.”

“Hardly, but it keeps me on my toes.” For an instant, he let himself feel all that. Why not, she was laying on the compliments like extra mayo on a club sandwich. He puffed up his chest just a tiny bit. Pride went darn well with pancakes. It also came before the fall. “Do you remember how we met?”

Her eyes popped open like she’d just been asked the million-dollar question on a game show, or a security question for a forgotten password. “Grade school?”

“Fourth grade, when you were a pipsqueak.” It was his turn to play with the straw wrapper. “And you know why I liked you right off?”

“I thought you couldn’t stand me.”

“That’s because you were the only girl who could beat me at tetherball.” Suddenly thirsty, he drank from his ice water. “You had the heart of a lion. That’s what I noticed.”

From her expression, he knew he’d impressed her, but the big question was why did he want to? Maybe it was carb overload madness from all the pancakes and syrup. Nevertheless, he went on. “You bothered the heck out of me, but you fascinated me, too.”

“Then why’d you treat me so mean?” she said with an incredulous stare.

Something about her brought out the tease in him. “Maybe it was your Pippi Longstocking braids.”

She covered her face, doing her best not to blush. He could still embarrass her.

Her coffee-with-cream eyes drifted to her runner’s watch, then went ultrawide. She looked at him, panicked.

“Oh, my God. Forget the shower. I need to get to the kitchen to start brunch!”

Chapter Three

Shelby and Conor rushed through The Drumcliffe kitchen doors smack into a kitchen crew rushing around, setting up food stations, and Maureen Delaney, with an obviously anxious expression on her face.

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Delaney!”

“It was my fault, Mom.”

Maureen’s concern shifted to quizzical, with one curled brow. “I was getting worried.”

“I forced her to have breakfast with me,” Conor continued. Shelby ignored him, instead focusing on everything she needed to prepare in less than an hour.

Grabbing a chef coat from a hook in her cubbyhole, she shifted into gear. “Did everyone see the menu I posted yesterday for today’s brunch?”

Mumbles and affirmations sifted through the small group. “Who’s assigned to eggs and making omelets?” Martha raised her hand. “Do you need help getting your veggies chopped and diced?”

“I’m good,” Martha said, dicing bell peppers as she answered, a stainless-steel bowl of chopped onions beside her.