“An internet poll?” Maura laughed. “What options did ya give them? Yes, aye, and hell yeah? Did ya even put a no option on there?”
“Why would I? Whose going to say no?” Raibeart scoffed. He continued to look at his phone screen. “I know that the group is here somewhere.” He began mumbling to himself as he swiped. “Knitting forum, Michelle Pillow reader group—sounds familiar, but no, I don’t think it’s that—uh, used cars, tea party ideas, kilt enthusiasts, fire bagpipes, naked Scotland. Och, I almost forgot, I have new photos to post there.”
Rory came around the table to face Jennifer as Raibeart distracted himself on his phone. “I had no idea they would all show up here tonight. I know Maura mentioned trying the nachos, but Raibeart heard I was here with ya, and he called the others to come spy on us.”
Jennifer frowned. Admittedly, she felt attraction (and unreasonable anger) toward Rory, but that didn’t mean they were worth spying on. It sounded a little like the guy from table twelve’s family showing up because he thought the waitress he just met was pretty. It didn’t make sense.
Shit. Table twelve asked for…something.
“It’s fine. It’s a restaurant. People come here to eat.” She glanced around. The irritated redhead scowled at her.
Martini. Don’t forget the martini.
“I apologize in advance for anything they might say or do,” Rory insisted. “MacGregors are nothing if not chaotic.”
Jennifer wanted to ask him to sit down far away from her so she could concentrate. The only chaos she felt was the effect he had on her emotions. Rory remained standing, and his nearness made it challenging to think. She found herself gripping her pen, resisting the urge to fling it at his head.
“Have you all decided or would you like time with the menus?” she asked them.
“Nachos,” one of the women said. Jennifer didn’t even try to remember her name.
Was it a martini? Wait, no. Margarita.
“Mm, yes, tater tot nachos,” another MacGregor woman agreed.
“Three nachos,” Maura said.
“Four,” someone corrected.
“Cheeseburger, fries,” one of the cousins ordered.
“Same,” two people said in unison.
Jennifer felt her frustration toward Rory mounting. She tried to write it all down, but she pushed so hard that the pen tip tore into the paper.
“Sex on the Beach,” Raibeart said. “And to drink, scotch on the rocks.”
“Ya should bring him a Sex on the Beach and make him drink it as punishment for that tired joke,” Maura said. “And bring me a martini, please.”
Another martini. No, margarita and martini.
“Burger, extra pickles,” Bruce added, shutting his menu. “Kettle chips, not fries.”
“I want bacon cheese fries,” Jane said. “Side of ranch.”
More ranch. Everyone wants ranch.
“Club sandwich?” Euann mused, more to himself than to her, so it didn’t sound like an order.
“Please,” Jennifer whispered, shaking. There were too many voices all around her, too many orders. They kept talking, but she didn’t hear them.
Please slow down.
Please stop.
Please go away.
Please…
I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.
“Jennifer?” Rory asked, touching her elbow. “Are—”
“There you are.”
She jerked at the contact and dropped the tray. The loud clatter caused instant silence to come over the restaurant.
“Job opening!” the bartender yelled, tapping a spoon loudly against a glass. A wave of laughter met his teasing, and the murmur of conversation resumed.
“Did you hear that?” Jennifer asked Rory.
“What? The bartender?” Rory glanced toward the bar. “Did he embarrass ya? Do ya want me to have a word with him?”
“What? No, Earl’s harmless.” She looked into Rory’s concerned face. He didn’t deserve her irritation. She lowered her voice so the others couldn’t overhear. “Please, sit down. Relax. Have fun. There are only two of us on the floor tonight, and I have to keep moving. I’m behind, and I have to sort through these orders.”
Considering her state of mind, she was rather proud she managed a polite excuse. When she tried to leave, he touched her arm to stop her.
“Rory, please,” She pulled away from him. “I can’t do this now. I don’t know what’s happening to me, and I can barely concentrate as it is. My emotions are all over the place. Something tells me you have answers, but I need to get through this shift first. I need this job.”
“Of course,” he said. “Don’t worry about us. Take your time. We’ll talk after your shift.”
Jennifer nodded and moved away from him.
“Damn, Rory, she’s paid to come to our table, and ya still can’t get her to talk to ya,” one of the MacGregor’s teased him.
“Quiet, Uncle Chicken,” Rory said. “She’s busy. Show some manners.”
Jennifer went to the computer to input her orders and found herself staring at it for a long moment.
“Some lady is asking if I can take over your table,” Kay said beside her. “She said she ordered a margarita and cheese fries an hour ago. What’s going on? Did you forget to put it in?”
Jennifer automatically turned to look in the direction of the redhead. “It’s hardly been twenty minutes. I’m getting her damned margarita.”
“Want me to spit in it?” Kay offered.
Jennifer forced a laugh. “Maybe later.”
They would never do such a thing, but the idea was tempting. Jennifer studied her notepad and began keying in her backlog of orders. By the time she got to the MacGregors, she could only guess what they had wanted.
With her performance, tonight’s tips were going to be some of the worst in history.
Don’t forget the margarita.
Chapter Ten
“How big is this place? I’ve heard about it, but I haven’t seen it.” Jennifer leaned to look out the passenger window as they turned off the city street onto the driveway.
Rory hoped that she would be able to relax a little. Any fool could see she’d had a hard work shift. Two tables had complained to Earl, who was acting manager for the night since the owner was gone. She’d messed up his family’s order, though not as badly as some of her other customers’. He’d seen trays of food being sent
