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“Not right now, we don’t.” She wondered whether he’d brought the divorce papers with him. Would he whip them out and demand she sign on the dotted line? Would he offer her money? Or would they have to go through a long legal battle she couldn’t afford to fight?
“It’s important.”
Like it or not, her marriage had blown up in her face; the only graceful thing to do was to accept it like a lady. But she didn’t feel graceful, and she didn’t feel like a lady. She felt like a tired waitress without enough money and way too much loneliness. “Look,” she said, “you’ve already lost me my tip from this guy, and I’m not in the mood.”
“I’ll pay you the difference.”
“Forget it, Jake.” She didn’t want a dime of his money. She was going to support herself, and prove to herself, her parents and Jake that she wasn’t a total loser.
Her mind flashed back over the past five months. When she’d first returned to Boston her need to forget Jake had made her wild and reckless. She’d spent money like crazy, blowing through her father’s generous allowance in only six days. Her father had given her more, on the condition she shape up, become an adult, start taking life more seriously. She hadn’t. Instead she’d dealt with the pain of her failed marriage the only way she knew how: by buying everything in sight.
Her mother had given her more money, but had said that was it until she got her life together. Taylor hadn’t believed her. Her parents had always thrown money at her instead of love; why would anything be different this time?
But it was. Her parents had cut her off. They’d offered her a place to stay and food to eat but only on the condition that she take a paper-pushing, closely supervised job in the personnel department at her father’s company.
Chafing at their control like a petulant child, Taylor had thrown it back in their faces. She’d moved in with a friend that afternoon. But her credit cards were tapped out, and none of the stylish jobs she applied for worked out. In the end, she couldn’t keep up with her friends’ glamorous life-styles, and they blew her off.
She’d had no money, no job, no friends, no place to live. She’d thrown it all away. She’d been a fool, and pride prevented her from accepting her parents’ new tough-love brand of assistance.
Finally she’d tried in earnest to get a job, and ended up a week later at the Pancake Hut. She’d done more growing up in that one week, and in the months of backbreaking restaurant work that followed, than she had in her entire life. With newfound grit and determination, she’d started to get her life back together.
And she’d keep doing it—alone.
Taylor pointed into the kitchen where her boss, Sleazy Steve, glared at her over the grill. “Do you see that man back there? If I’m more than thirty seconds late to pick up a plate he bums my next two orders. So I don’t really care what you have to talk to me about. It’s not more important than my job.”
Jake fixed his gaze on her, unblinking. “You don’t know that.” His tone was even, calm. Not argumentative, but still it raised Taylor’s hackles.
Like herself, Jake could be an incredibly stubborn person. “You might not believe it, Jake, but nothing is more important than my job. Nothing.”
Not even you. Not even my husband. The words remained unspoken, but she knew they both heard them echo through the restaurant.
Five months and one week ago she never would have even thought those words. Five months and one week ago her husband had been the most important thing in her life. But she hadn’t been the most important thing in his. Not by a long shot.
“I’m not going to leave,” Jake said.
“Fine,” Taylor returned. “You can wait all day for me if you want. Just don’t do it in the aisle.”
That brought a hint of a smile to his lips. “Where’s your section?”
“Over there.” She pointed. “But don’t you dare...” She trailed off as Jake sauntered over to the only vacant booth in her section. He slipped out of his shearling coat and sat down.
Taylor took a deep breath and counted to ten. By seven she’d calmed down, and when she hit ten she knew how she’d handle the situation. The moment Jake had sat down he’d become a customer. Nothing more, nothing less.
And she’d learned how to deal with customers.
She ducked into the kitchen to make fresh toast for the man on fifteen, then took a menu to Jake. She slid it onto the table. “Coffee?”
He met her eyes. “Taylor...”
A lot of her customers liked to call her by her first name. It was written on a little plastic tag pinned to her blouse. But no one said it in that rough, sexy way, like a lion trying to growl but ending up purring. “Cream or sugar?” she asked brightly.
She knew how he took his coffee. Black and strong.
“Neither.”
Turning on her heel, Taylor checked on her other customers, then took Jake his coffee.
He hadn’t touched the menu, but she pulled out her order pad anyway. “What do you want?”
Jake took a sip of his coffee. “I need fifteen minutes of your time. Maybe half an hour.”
Enough time to sign the papers, she guessed. “What do you want that’s on the menu? I recommend the pancakes.” After all, this was the Pancake Hut.
“Hear me out, Taylor.”
“Okay, pancakes it is. Short or tall?”
“Tall. Come on. For old times’ sake.”
“Real or fake?”
“Excuse me?”
“Syrup. Real or fake?”
“Real.”
She gave him a bright smile. “Hash browns, bacon and toast with that?”
“You’re just going to ignore me, aren’t you?”
“Orange juice?”
He sighed. “Sure, Taylor. Bring me whatever you want. But I’m not going away until we talk.”
Another smile. “I’ll be right back with your juice.”
She fled for the kitchen.
One of the other waitresses stood at the service counter refilling the coffeemaker. Candy was a bleach-blonde in her late thirties who chewed gum incessantly. She pointed at Jake with her chin. “Who’s the dish?”
i This wasn’t what she needed. Taylor filled a glass of orange juice and tried for an offhand tone. “Him? Just someone I used to know.”
“He’s cute.” Candy craned her head to see across the room. “Is the O.J. for him? I’ll take it over.”
Candy plucked the glass from her startled fingers and swished away, hips swinging.
“Order up,” Sleazy Steve growled.
Taylor put her mind back on her waitressing, but the next time Candy crossed her path Taylor said, “He’s married.” She wasn’t trying to be possessive—even if she had felt a strange spark of jealousy—just warning her co-worker away from disappointment.
“The dish? I didn’t see a ring.”
“Trust me. He’s married.”
Candy snapped her gum, her expression changing to a mix of anger and pity. All traces of her interest in Jake were gone. “So it’s like that, huh? Probably told you he was leaving her, but never did. And he expects you to pine away for him and jump back into his bed whenever he gets in the mood. The skunk. Want me to go pour hot coffee in his lap?”
Taylor almost laughed. “It’s not like that.”
“Uh-huh. Right.”
“He’s married to me, Candy.”
Candy’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”
“We’re married.”
Candy snapped her gum again. “Then why in the world are you living alone and working in this dump? Take him back, girl!”
“I don’t think so,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s too late for that.”
Sleazy Steve dropped two plates on the service shelf. “Order up, Candy,” he barked.
Candy ignored him. “It’s never too late, hon.”
“We don’t like each other.”
“Yeah,” Candy said. “Which is why he’s staring at you like he wants to have you for breakfast.”
He was? Taylor’s heart rate sped up at the news but she forced herself to take a deep breath and calm down. Jake wasn’t here to try to get her back, and she had to remember that.
The cook banged his spatula on the stainless steel counter. “Order up!”
Candy slowly turned and fixed Sleazy Steve with a scorching glare. She popped her gum. “Go suck an egg, Stevie. This is important.”
Taylor wanted to burst out laughing, but she knew she’d get fired if she did. Only Candy, for some incomprehensible reason, could get away with such behavior. “Jake doesn’t like me, Candy.”
“Huh! What’s not to like? You’re a total sweet-heart.”
“Thanks, but Jake—”
“Jake’s gonna get an earful,” Candy declared.
“Don’t,” Taylor said, but Candy wasn’t listening. She took the plates of food from the service shelf and sashayed off.
Taylor stood glued to the floor as Candy dropped her two plates in front of a couple of customers and approached Jake’s booth. She couldn’t hear what Candy said, but from the way the woman stood with her hands on her hips, she guessed it wasn’t friendly.
A minute later Candy came back over.
“What did he say?” Taylor demanded.
Candy shrugged. “Nothing much. I told him you were a great girl and he’d been a fool to leave you. He told me, very politely, that it was none of my business.” She popped her gum. “Not exactly the type to unburden his soul to a total stranger, is he?”
“No.” That was an understatement. Jake was a typical cowboy—stoic and silent when it came to matters of the heart. Even when that matter of the heart was a marriage gone bad.
“He wants to talk with you.”
“I know.”
“He wouldn’t tell me what it was about, but it sounds important.”
“I’m sure it is, but I’m not interested.”
Candy chewed her gum. “Talk to the man, Taylor.”
She started to say, “I’m too busy,” but Candy cut her off.
“I’ll cover your section,” the other woman said.
Taylor glanced around the busy restaurant. “Thanks, Candy, but—”
“No buts. The guy’s your husband. At least go hear what he has to say.”
“Steve’s going to kill me if I take an early break.”
“I’ll handle it.”
As if on cue, Sleazy Steve slammed a plate of pancakes down on the service counter. It was Jake’s order.
“Take it over,” Candy said. “I’ll bring you something in a minute. Eggs and toast okay?”
Resigned to her fate, Taylor reached for the order. “Sure, Candy. And thanks. I think.”
Jake watched his wife cross the room, a plate of food in her strong, slender hands. He’d always enjoyed watching her—the unconscious rhythm of her steps, the sway of her hips, the way she carried her head high and proud.
She put the plate down in front of him and then, to his surprise, slid onto the opposite bench.
He watched as she settled herself, her back straight against the cushion. She didn’t look happy to be there.
“Hello, Taylor,” he said.
“Jake.”
“Thanks for coming over.”
She shrugged. “No problem.”
Jake glanced down at his plate, then up at Taylor. He didn’t pick up his fork. A lot was riding on the next half hour. The future of the Cassidy Ranch was in his hands, and in hers.
