One
If there were an award for the absolute worst at waitressing, Alexandria Danby would, hands down, be the recipient. She may have medaled in track through high school and university—but currently, the only thing she’d earn a trophy for was mixing up the most orders.
People used to call her Alexandria the Great. These days, serving people food and drinks while cleaning up after them made her feel more like Alexandria the Absolute Worst.
A tiny orange drop of butternut squash soup splashed against her left thumb, burning the pad, causing a wince but not distracting her from her target. Customer. They’re customers, not targets. The sandwich was easy; it just sat all nice and flat on the plate. It was the damn liquid stuff sharing the space that wrecked things. As a onetime star runner who’d won a full scholarship because of her impressive athleticism, she should be able to walk twenty feet from the outdoor pass-through bar to the goddamn table without a hiccup. But she was quickly learning that agility and speed didn’t translate to every activity. Particularly not ones that involved a lot of multitasking.
Two of the three grandmotherly-type women waiting on her arrival watched with encouraging expressions on their collective faces, one of them nodding with a too-wide smile. The third mostly looked curious about whether Lexi could deliver the food without incident. Two plates? No problem. It was the third with the soup that made her feel like she was jumping hurdles with her ankles tied. The way to make some real money would be running a side hustle, placing bets on how many things she’d forget in one shift. Whatever that number was, a quick glance toward the hot guy at the table in the corner of the glassed-in patio, still waiting to be greeted, added one to the total. When he lifted his gaze from the Sandra Brown book he held—great taste—he gave her a smile that bolstered her spirit. Dig deep. That’s what her coach used to say before competitions. If you’ve dug down as far as you can go, keep digging. You want it, you work for it. Lexi hadn’t thought of her university track coach in years.
Just a few more steps. It was a gorgeously sunny Saturday for the last week of September. Little beams of light danced in the spots where the sun came through the glass roof, hitting the fall-colored glass candleholders. Sometimes the Pacific Northwest had bluer skies in fall than some of the summer weeks. As much as Lexi enjoyed the vitamin D, the brightness was currently creating a beacon-like blind spot in her path, the little beams bouncing, making it impossible not to blink. Her left arm wobbled just a little, her left pinkie finger cramping. Since when was salad heavy? She needed to start working out again. Almost there. She set all three items down with a little too much relief, her breath whooshing out of her lungs right as a splash of butternut squash soup slopped over the edge of the bowl.
One of the women gave a small squeal. The soup didn’t even touch her but Lexi flashed a repentant smile, quickly wiped it up, and stepped back. Whatever. She’d made it to the table, remembered everything they ordered, and only had one customer waiting. She was taking the win.
The cozy warmth of the patio heaters combined with the direct sun overhead had sweat pooling at the base of her spine. To hell with working out; this job counted as cardio. Lexi pushed the wayward brown tresses escaping her top bun behind her ear, her customer service smile making her cheeks hurt.
“Is there anything else I can get you?” Make the customer happy.
If she didn’t start making some better tips, this job was pointless. No one took a second job for fun. The paycheck, in addition to the one from her full-time job, was clearing the last of her—though not technically hers—debt. She was so close she’d decided the tips could be used for tuition. Her bestie, Maisie, was friends with some of the waitresses who’d told her they pulled in hundreds of dollars in tips each week.
A block up from Pike Place Market, a major tourist attraction in Seattle, Fairway Bistro was a popular spot. Lexi had taken the job just over a month ago. Easy. Simple. How hard could serving some drinks and food be? Famous last words.
She didn’t earn anything near hundreds a week, but she’d had enough to pay the deposit for one of the final three courses she needed to complete her degree. Problem was, the rest of her tuition was due in a couple weeks, and so far, she’d only saved up a few hundred from all of her shifts combined.
“Could I have that refill on my coffee, please?” one woman said.
Lexi covered her wince with a grin. She hoped. The coffee she asked for ten minutes ago and you promised to bring right over. Then someone else had wanted extra napkins and another customer had been leaving. These ladies were three of the most patient customers Lexi had had lately. She should be tipping them.
She nodded. “Of course. Sorry about that. Coming right up.”
When she turned, the hot guy was still reading his book. She could kiss him just for not yelling out the standard Hey you because she hadn’t taken his order yet.
Huffing out a breath, shoulders back, she moved to his table, pulled her pad of paper and a pen from her apron. Proactive waitressing, a new sport. His hair, a dark shade similar to her own, looked like he’d run his hands through it more than once.
“Hi. What can I get for you?” Absentmindedly, she rubbed the spot where the soup had burned her finger.
He looked up and Lexi felt heat of another kind zip over her skin. This one more pleasant. With that hair, his strong, square jaw and easy smile, dressed in a carob-colored, expensive-looking sweater over a collared shirt that brought out gold flecks in his dark-brown eyes, he could grace the pages of L.L.Bean’s fall catalog.
His lips twitched before he said, “Maybe not the soup.”
Her breath froze in her lungs for a brief second before she laughed. Ouch. Apparently, her lack of skill was obvious. Excellent.
“Funny guy. I could get them to put it in an extra-large bowl,” she joked.
Fortunately, she only had the two other tables on the patio, the section her manager had relegated her to. She understood preventive damage control. The inside of the restaurant was packed and other serving staff often bragged about the money they brought in on the lunch shift.
“You’re doing great,” he said, his voice low and husky but, more endearingly, genuine. It was a lie but she damn sure appreciated the words. She actually was getting better, other than when taking orders, serving, keeping her station clean, and socializing all needed to happen at the same time.
“Not true. But thank you.”
He grinned. “I’ll have a BLT with fries and a Coke, please.”
She nodded, even as she wrote it down. She wasn’t forgetting anything this time. When she reached the door, she glanced back, certain she’d felt his gaze on her, but he’d already returned to his book. Most people had their phones out before their butts hit the seat.
Coffee, Coke, sandwich, and fries. She was back on track. Inside, weaving through tables and rushing wait staff, Lexi went to the coffee machine and grabbed a carafe, then thought better of it and just filled a fresh cup before asking the bartender for the soda. While he poured that, she entered the order. Part of her struggle was the stupid system they used to order everything. It seemed more complicated than necessary.
The manager, Brett, moved around the popular downtown Seattle restaurant like a suited ninja, bussing tables for the employees who had too many customers to keep up. Five weeks in and he still couldn’t trust Lexi completely with more than five tables. If they weren’t so short-staffed, she didn’t know if she’d have gotten the job at all. That and Brett’s crush on her bestie were the only things keeping her employed.
On her way back outside, a bus girl, a sweet teen who made Lexi feel ancient, pushed the door open for her.
“Thanks,” she said, breathing easier with just a couple of beverages in her hands, even if one was hot coffee.
“No problem.”
Her brain ran through a list of reminders. She needed to set up the umbrellas before Brett asked. People could still burn despite the cool temperature outside and she didn’t want that on her conscience.
Positive thoughts. You’ve got this. No burning customers with soup, coffee, or sunshine. She noticed the dirty dishes on a side table that she hadn’t managed to clean yet as she brought the coffee over.
“Everything tasting okay so far?” she asked as she set the beverage down safely.
Her smile was genuine. The socializing part was actually pretty fun most of the time. When she wasn’t overwhelmed. At twenty-five, she felt like her days of juggling a busy life were forever ago. This job reminded her that it took some getting used to. One of the women, the skeptic, raised a brow, reminding her of Bitsy, the elderly woman who owned the boutique clothing store for mature women where Lexi worked full-time. Her gaze followed Lexi’s placement of the coffee.
“It’s great, dear,” one of the other women said with enough kindness that Lexi thought she might actually get a decent tip.
“Excellent. I’ll come by in a few to top up the other drinks,” Lexi promised.
She’d clear and wipe down the dirty table after dropping off the cutie’s soda. She just needed a plan before she hit the ground running—which, surprisingly to her, waitressing at a busy restaurant didn’t always allow for.
“Here’s your soda. Anyone joining you for lunch today?”
She cringed inwardly. The answer seemed pretty clear since he’d already ordered and was happily reading his book. Normally she was better at small talk, but this guy’s gaze scrambled her brain.
“Much to my mother’s dismay and my delight, no,” he said, his left cheek showing a hint of a dimple.
Lexi smiled. Disappointed mom. She could relate. “Uh-oh. Let me guess, Mom wants grandbabies?”
He laughed. “Got it in one. Are you fairly new here?”
She nodded. “I am. I’ve been here just over a month but I work full-time at a clothing store so I can’t cover that many shifts. I’m Lexi, by the way.”
She should have started with that. Training 101. She was supposed to say, Hi. I’m Lexi. I’ll be your server. What can I get for you? Close enough.
“Nice to meet you, Lexi. I’m Will.”
Nerves of a different kind fumbled around like drunk, uncoordinated butterflies in her stomach. She didn’t have time for sober or drunk butterflies, but it was a nice reminder of what they felt like.
“Nice to meet you too, Will.”
Looking at his soda, he asked, “Mind if I get a straw?”
Duh. “Of course. Be right back.”
Hurrying back into the restaurant, she took a few breaths, the scent of burgers and deep-fried goodness making her stomach growl.
Pots and pans clattered. Plates and glasses clinked. There were four other waitresses working, a couple of them picking up orders at the indoor pass-through bar while Brett did plate garnishes and quality checks.
Grabbing a straw, Lexi gave herself a minute to tell the butterflies to calm the hell down. Brett walked behind the bar to help the bartender fill some orders. He was a quiet sort. It unnerved her; he was probably one of those people who took it all in, said very little, but had itemized thoughts and opinions on everything.
He gave her a small smile. “Can you set up the umbrellas before you come back?”
Cursing on the inside, she nodded. “Of course.”
Taking the straw out to the patio, she saw the three women laughing over their meals. Happy customers.
Will’s mouth was tipped up as he stared at the book. He saw her approach and his smile grew as he set the book down.
Lexi waved the straw. “Here you go.”
“Thanks,” he said.
Lexi extended her hand, the straw in her fingers, her gaze stuck on his, noticing how deeply brown his eyes were. They were captivating in a way that could suck a person in, make them want to see if they changed when he laughed or when he got turned— Something blocked her hand right before her fingers hit the cool glass. She felt it tipping before she broke eye contact to see that she was accidentally pushing the drink over. She dropped the straw and, hurrying to right the glass, knocked it more. Yup, Coke splashed over the rim, dotting the book edge and the table.
“I’m so sorry,” Lexi said.
Will moved quickly, setting the book on his lap, grabbing his cutlery and undoing the napkin it was wrapped in. He sopped up the mess while she pulled a couple of extra napkins from her apron.
“No harm.” His voice was deep and calm.
“Your book,” she said. Frustration mounted in her chest like a sports car revving in neutral. Just one day without spilling something on someone.
“It’s fine. Just a splash of Coke. If I get desperate for caffeine later, I can lick the cover.”
Lexi snort-laughed, then slapped a hand over her mouth. She closed her eyes so she wouldn’t roll them at herself. Had she thought she could handle the socializing part? Clearly, she wasn’t winning trophies for that either.
“Are you going to stand there with your eyes closed?” Amusement tinged his tone.
“I’m considering trying to back up and leave without opening them.”
His laugh was unguarded and fun. Damn it. She bet the corners of his eyes crinkled.
She opened one eye, dropped her hand so she could pick up the wet napkins. “It’d be easier if you just close yours while I go. Then we can pretend this never happened.”
Forced to open both eyes, she reassured herself that not much had spilled. He picked up the straw, removed the damp paper wrapper, stuck it in his glass, and put his lips on it. Her stomach fluttered, not unlike the way the wrapper did when he dropped it to the table. Smiling around the straw, he took a large sip. His brows drew together.
“This might be diet.”
Lexi groaned, took the glass when he passed it. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Now I don’t have to feel guilty for having more.”
If only all of her customers were so sweet, adorable, and forgiving. “Be right back.” Maybe she’d go home with hardly any tips today, but it wasn’t so bad after all. If she could just stop putting so much pressure on herself, just take a breath now and again, things would smooth themselves out.
Copyright © 2024 by Jody Holford
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