I hurry over and fill an entire carafe with coffee, and place it, along with the mugs, sweetener, and creamer, on a tray, and carry it over to Miss Difficult.
“I brought you your own pot of coffee,” I say brightly as I fill the mugs and set everything on the table. “Your orders shouldn’t take long.”
“If you got them wrong, we’ll send them back,” she warns me, and reaches for her mug. “There’s no Splenda in here.”
“I’ll grab you some.”
I walk away and find the yellow packets, then return to the table.
“Here you go.”
Before she can complain about anything else, I leave the table to greet new customers and get the rest of my day going. Things are moving fairly smoothly when the order comes up for Miss Difficult, and when I set her plate in front of her, she scowls.
“Iknewyou should have written it down.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Melissa,” the man warns, but she ignores him.
“I asked for no peppers.”
Now I grit my teeth. “No, ma’am, you asked for no onions. That’s what you got.”
“Well, I meant no peppers.” She pushes the plate away. “I can’t eat that.”
“Melissa, you don’t have a problem with peppers.” The man rolls his eyes. “She’s just mad today. Her meal is fine, thank you.”
“Let me know if you need anything else.”
I walk away and take a deep breath.
Looks like I’m not the only one having a bad day.
It’s beena long freaking day.
I’m bundled up in a hoodie and sweats, my feet bare, sitting on the back patio with Petunia, enjoying an extra-large glass of red wine after a difficult day at work. The clouds above are fluffy rather than dark and angry, and it’s pleasant out here.
Normally, I’d take this time to paint, but I needed to unwind first.
Shed all of the negative energy before I let it soak into my home.
Tanner drives up and pulls into his garage. Rather than going into his house, he walks over to us. He’s so impossibly handsome it makes my stomach jitter. His white button-down is unbuttoned at the collar, and his sleeves are rolled to his elbows.
What is it about rolled shirtsleeves that makes a girl want to purr?
“Hey there,” he says as he approaches. He takes in Petunia and grins. “You have your cat on a leash.”
I glance down at her pretty pink harness and matching leash and nod. “Yeah, she likes to be outside, but I don’t want her to run off.”
“Has she run off before?”
“I’ve never given her the chance,” I admit. “How was your day?”
“It was pretty good, actually. And yours?”
I pause and stare into my glass before lifting it to my lips and taking a sip. “It might have been the shittiest day I’ve had since coming home. Aside from the night my house burned down, of course.”
His eyebrows climb. “What happened?”