Free Marrying the Wrong Man by Elley Arden Page B

nine. Not until she reached the register, which was separated from the main dining room by a burlap curtain, did she realize Jack Kelley hadn’t included a tip. In the space where numbers representing the customary fifteen percent of the bill should’ve been was the message:
Get your tip from your father, since he robbed me blind.
    She crinkled the receipt and drilled it into the garbage can. How could her father have robbed the town sheriff blind? It would’ve been one ballsy move. Then again, her father was a narcissist being held without bail in a federal prison. That pretty much indicated he was capable of anything.
    She retrieved the receipt, smoothed it out, and slipped it into the register. As much as she wanted to erase the words, she couldn’t screw Charlie out of the income.
    “Can I get in here?” Corbin pressed behind her.
    “Yep.” She stepped aside and saw him smile.
    “Table eight’s meals are up.”
    He was such a sweet guy. At least somebody around here with a penis was.
    Back in the kitchen, Morgan grabbed table eight’s plates from the edge of the stainless steel counter. Charlie glanced up from the pasta he was tossing. Their eyes met for a second, but that was it.
    Four more hours—less than
, she reminded herself, trying not to be discouraged by the fact that tomorrow she had to do it all over again. It would get easier. There would be good nights and bad nights. Eventually, she wouldn’t need this paycheck, and Charlie wouldn’t need her help. They’d be even then.
    When she stepped into the dining room, Bruce and Karena Carter were waiting for their sea bass. She could handle them—including Karena’s bitchy smile. She’d get over Jack Kelley not tipping her, too. But seeing Hannah seat Justin and Alice at table nine just about did her in.
    Morgan pawed at the collar of her blouse. Corbin needed to trade tables with her again, because there was no way she could wait on Justin and Alice.
    Chin up. Shoulders back. Deliver the Carters’ sea bass, and then pull Corbin aside.
    But her brain didn’t quite get the memo. When her upper body moved, her legs dragged, and the toe of her sensible black flats caught on the unvarnished oak planks.
    Thud.
Two pieces of sea bass slid off the plates and splattered on the floor.
    Sound ceased. Time froze. She peeled the food off the floor and stumbled to the kitchen.
    Charlie was waiting for her at the door. “What the hell happened?”
    “I need two more sea bass.” She shoved past him and locked herself in the bathroom.
    • • •
    Charlie knew exactly what had happened the minute he saw Alice and Justin at table nine. This night just kept getting better.
    “I can handle it, Chef,” Corbin said.
    But Charlie waved him off.
    Hannah stood at the hostess podium looking like she was ready to bolt again.
    He needed a waitress more than he needed his sister’s patronage. What the hell was she thinking coming in here?
    You can’t talk to people like that.
Morgan’s words from earlier rattled around in his brain.
    So maybe asking Alice what the hell she was thinking wasn’t the smartest thing to do. Instead, he would casually walk up and warn her to treat wait staff—all of them—with respect or leave.
    Alice’s eyes were wide and blazing blue. “What is
she
doing here?”
    “Working.” He lowered his voice, hoping she would follow his lead. “I figured you would’ve heard already.”
    “No, I hadn’t heard.” She glared at Justin.
    He held up both hands. “I had no idea, either.”
    “She has to go, Charlie.” Alice’s voice rose. “This is a recipe for disaster.”
    Charlie shushed her. It was better than telling her to calm the hell down. “Please … ” he gritted his teeth, “lower your voice. You’re upsetting my staff and customers.”
    She rolled her eyes. “Oh, for crying out loud. When have you ever worried about something like that? You shouldn’t be worried about me and my mouth. You should be worried about that