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“No, I didn’t mean it that way.” Way to offend him.
Susie passes me, and we make eye contact. She wags her brows with a smirk while looking at the stranger and me. Thankfully, his back is to her, so he can’t see her ogling over him.
“You had heard about our famous pie, and I didn’t want you to leave with a poor opinion of the place because then you’d leave a scathing review. Then it’d be all my fault people would stop coming because of one horrible review.”
He slowly nods his head. “So, you did it for the restaurant?”
“Exactly.”
A few tables over, someone waves at me, forcing me back to reality. I have a job to do. And this poor guy probably wants to eat and leave. By the time I return, after taking care of a couple tables, he’s left. I try to hide my disappointment, the silly thoughts flicker—he was flirting or sticking around trying to figure out how to ask me out. But reality sets in—I’m just a small-town waitress with average looks who’s stuck in the town you drive through to get somewhere else.
At least he ate all the pie.
When I grab his cash, I spot a handwritten note on the back of the bill.
Thanks, Kali, for a memorable meal. I’d give the meal a four-star, service five-star plus. Hope to see you next time I stop in.
Despite the bitter tinge of disappointment, his words made my day.
See you later, Mr. Gorgeous. Next time, I’ll join you.
“Kali,” Pearl calls from the dining area, drawing my attention from the cook’s window. After the chaos of yesterday, I was relieved to see her walking through the front doors this morning, looking like her crazy normal self. When I called her last night to check on her and tell her about the day, she called it a twelve-hour bug, but I suspected it was her body’s way of telling her she needed a break—she’s here six days a week, some seven.
I spot her holding a pink box. “Something came for you,” she squeals.
When was the last time I received something nice? I know it’s been a really long time. Was it the cupcakes my mom made me in third grade? I think it was. In an effort to combat the mean girls at school, Mom thought the sweet treat would help. It didn’t. They were just mean girls on a sugar high afterward. Because, sadly, mean girls are always just that. Mean. She used to say, “kill ’em with kindness.” Ironic really. She was dead two months later.
I shake the memory from my head. With no family left and the closest friend I have staring at me, the list of people who could have given me this is short.
“What is it?”
“It says it’s from West Side Pies,” she replies.
I tilt my head. Someone sent me a pie?
I grab the pink box, stamped with huge red letters on top, and unwrap the cellophane. When I lift the top, there’s a pie inside. I glance around at the staff, wondering if someone is playing a trick on me because of the guy from yesterday. They would totally do this.
“Okay, who did this?” I chuckle. Everyone shrugs and shakes their heads. I stare at Joe. Him and his kissy-noises ass would do this. “You?”
He barks out a laugh, holding two spatulas in the air. “I wish I would’ve thought of it. But not me.”
“Are you sure this is for me?” I ask Pearl. There’s not even a card.
She nods. “That’s what the delivery guy said. And he had a West Side Pie shirt on.” She pulls out her phone she just bought. I’m still jealous of her new toy. Before, we shared the bond of being the only two people on earth who didn’t own a cell phone. It’s a luxury item I can’t afford at the moment. “I don’t know them. Let’s look them up.”
While she searches, I pull out the pie and find a bifold piece of paper taped to the bottom.
“They’re an Austin pie maker. Ohhh…they have over five thousand five-star reviews. They must be good,” she says as I detach the letter and open it.
Sorry to duck out so fast. I had to make a quick escape as the local police were closing in on me. Thanks for giving me your last piece of pie. But THIS is the best cherry pie I’ve ever had. You have to try it. And I promise, you won’t go to jail eating the last piece.
A giggle escapes from nowhere. The slightest hint of attention turns me into a human jack-in-the-box. It doesn’t take much to wind me up. But I can’t help it, the charming stranger from yesterday surprised me with a pie.
A cherry pie.
My favorite.
This is better than flowers.
