Reunited With The Sheriff. Lynne Marshall
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sigh.
Nothing could hide the completely satisfied smile she flashed at Conor, who stood across the room, ready to tackle loading the industrial-sized dishwasher. Was he staying on to help anyway?
The hero points kept adding up, but he’d always been that kind of guy, as far as Shelby was concerned.
A pang of guilt twisted her smile into a near pout. She’d really screwed up where he was concerned. If she could only find a way to make up for that.
If Conor kept staring at the small but mighty chef, her brown eyes flashing with victory, he might do something stupid. Like pick her up and swing her around. So he forced a look at the mile-high stack of plates and the job at hand. They’d been serving too fast and furious to attempt keeping up with washing the dishes during the actual brunch hours.
Something had changed since that moment this morning when he’d considered turning around and running the other way when he’d first seen her jogging on the beach. Over breakfast, things had gotten familiar, like old times, when he could trust her with his life.
The problem was, he’d also trusted her with his heart, and she’d put it through the food processor. Bottom line, he couldn’t get sucked in by her contagious never-say-die attitude, and that great grin. Nope. Too much had changed. Right before his eyes, her smile quickly changed into a lemon-sucking pucker, as if she’d read his mind. She turned and scraped her grill as though removing barnacles from a boat.
She was a mother now, the sole breadwinner for her and her son, who, because of him asking her to have breakfast with him, could have put her job in jeopardy. He was positive, after talking to her earlier, that she still had plans for making it big in the culinary world. Something that was theoretically impossible here in Sandpiper Beach.
Rinsing used to be his favorite job when he’d been coerced into helping in the kitchen during summers. Now, he got a little overaggressive with the hand sprayer on the stack of dishes he rinsed, and soaked his shirt.
She’d only stick around long enough to get back on her feet, then head off to set the culinary world on fire. No way would Sandpiper Beach ever hold on to her. Hell, that was all she’d ever wanted to do since her mother used to barter tutoring for after-school cooking classes for Shelby. She’d told him time and again how that first Little Chefs class had changed her life. From fifth grade on she’d found her calling. He’d been the lucky recipient of hundreds of gourmet lunches throughout high school, too. Back then he’d been her biggest encourager.
Right out of his life.
He stacked another rack of plates on the conveyor heading for the high-temp sanitizing dishwasher, then shifted to the other end. The first batch passed through the splash guards and hit him like a sauna square in the face and chest. He remembered to put on thick, elbow-length rubber gloves before removing the cleaned, and extremely hot, dishes.
They’d had a good run earlier, followed by a great morning and breakfast together, before jumping into save-the-brunch mode. With the extra help from him and his mother, they’d made up some time, too. It’d been fun to be part of her team, and she handled things skillfully, like a trouper. She was a natural on her turf in their restaurant kitchen.
It was the personal level he couldn’t handle. Or trust, trust for the girl he’d once promised his heart to. Yet something seemed to have changed between them today. His anger had dialed back a notch. If he didn’t watch out, he might get stupid again.
And for that reason, he’d avoid her. It wasn’t because he was a coward, he was just being practical. Things had changed, and what they’d shared would never be the same. Once all the dishes had been washed and put away, while Shelby was distracted with her staff discussing Sunday night dinner, he took off.
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