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"You got yourself a boy-toy."
Erin blinked at her for a moment, stunned she would say such a thing. She took in a deep breath to give herself a moment. "Mrs. Cust, Ryan works for me. I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't refer to him in such unflattering terms." Poor Ryan was turning red again.
"I wasn't being unflattering, dear. I'm envious." She sniffed.
"Mrs. Cust, I meant unflattering to Ryan. I couldn’t, quite frankly, care less what you think about me." She spun to the drive-through window. The old biddy could wait if she was going to be rude.
"Aren't you going to take my order?"
"After I take this one." She turned to the drive-through window and took the order, passing it to Ryan, who was clearly trying, but failing, to hide behind Izzy.
Ryan whispered, "What a horror!"
"Yup. A very rich one."
He grimaced. She went back to the counter. Mrs. Cust ordered a vanilla latte, skinny. Erin passed the order to Ryan. "You'll probably have to take it to her. She thinks she's too good to come get her drinks like everyone else."
"I guess it will get cold then, because it will sit on the counter." Ryan turned the steam wand off. "I'm not in any mood to wait on her after she called me names." He scowled. "Besides, she didn't even tip."
Erin grimaced. She couldn't agree more. She took more orders.
Ryan called, "Skinny vanilla latte for here." The cup sat on the counter.
They worked to fill a few more orders. "Vanilla latte, skinny, here. It's getting cold."
"Young man, service means you bring the drink to me, not yell at me to come get it!" Mrs. Cust trumpeted from her seat.
Ryan frowned down at her, staring over Izzy's bulk. "No, ma'am, it doesn't. Not here. Everyone comes up and gets their drinks. We don't have a wait staff."
"Erin, this young man is rude and clearly doesn't understand what service means!"
That woman had some nerve. Erin marched to Mrs. Cust, fists clenched, standing right over her so the harpy had to crane her neck. "Mrs. Cust, I think Mr. Walsh has a much better idea of what service means than you ever will."
Mrs. Cust's mouth opened and closed several times. She glared, lips clamped, then curling in a nasty smile. "Clearly, he doesn't, and neither do you."
"I think we do, Mrs. Cust. See, we both served our country. Military service. So, I strongly suggest you take your business and your complaints to someplace where they care about your version of service!" Erin started calmly but ended shouting. Every face in the room stared at her. She turned away blindly but whirled when she heard a slow clap start. The loggers were on their feet, applauding, and everyone else soon joined. Oh, no. Too much. Her blood ran cold. She shouldn't let her temper flare.
Mrs. Cust glared at the standing ovation. She rose slowly, her eyes narrowed and bright red flags across her cheeks. "I don't know what my Chaz sees in you, but I will tell him you are clearly unsuitable. I don't expect to see you with him ever again!"
Her anger returned with a vengeance. "Please tell him that. I can't stand him. I've been telling him that for months, but like you, he just doesn't want to listen."
Mrs. Cust gaped at her for a long moment, then turned on her heel and marched out the door. Everyone in the room clapped again, then yacked with their neighbors. Erin sagged against the counter. The old biddy had it coming, but she shouldn't have lost her temper. She'd made an enemy. And Mother? She'd be furious. That thought wiped the remorse right away.
Ryan put his hand on her arm. "Hey, you didn't have to do that. I don't care what some old woman calls me."
"I know. She drives me crazy. She always has." Erin sighed heavily. "Still, I shouldn't have let my temper get the better of me. She's going to make my life miserable."
"Pfft." Ryan raspberried. "It looks like there's a lot of people here who can't stand her."
She grimaced and returned to the window. No one was waiting—the commuter traffic was dying off. "Ryan, ready to take the stick? The commuters are on their way, and your fan club has switched to drip, so I'm sure you can handle it." Erin smiled at him, putting a little challenge in it. She had to get out of here, back to her cars. They didn't gossip when she lost her temper and yelled.
Ryan shrugged. "If you think so, I'll give it a shot."
"Yup, you'll be fine. Just yell if you need help."
"Okay." He turned away, then twisted back. "What did she mean about her son?"
Erin laughed, but there was nothing funny about it. "The Barracuda out there?" She thumbed over her shoulder. "Cust owns it. For some reason, he seems to think that me working on his 'Cuda means I should work on him, too." She shuddered. "I don't want either one of them. The 'Cuda is paying work, and Chaz is slimy."
