Want You Page 2

  * * *

  The next morning, Darcy called in sick and texted TJ that she’d already put in a doughnut order at the Morning Glory Diner. Because he was the first one in, picking them up for the meeting would now fall to him. His family’s love of doughnuts was epic. Sometimes he thought it was the only reason they came to the meetings.

  At least he’d missed the breakfast rush at the diner. The tables were mostly empty except for the back, where Deb Bennett was hunched over a sheet of paper. He usually tried to avoid her. But in a town this small and with her being best friends with his sister-in-law Hannah, it was near impossible; Deb was everywhere he was.

  The thing was, he was head over heels for her and probably had been since the beginning of time. Or when her parents had first started cleaning Garner Adventure’s offices twenty years ago. But Deb had chosen Win. The two had been inseparable since the ninth grade, and while they were split up now, it was widely understood that was temporary and that they would eventually wind up together. That was why he stayed away.

  But today, curiosity won out over good sense.

  He strolled over to catch a glimpse of what Deb was looking at so intently.

  “Not my shift,” she said without glancing up. “Talk to Ricki.”

  “What’re you working on?”

  She lifted her head, big brown eyes taking him in and a spot of pink in her cheeks. And he felt that familiar ache.

  “Oh, hey, I didn’t know it was you.”

  He pointed at what he could now see was a spreadsheet. “What’ve you got there?”

  “My screwed-up life.” Flustered, she gathered up the paper and shoved it in her purse.

  “Why’s it screwed up?”

  “I just have a lot of bills,” she said and looked away.

  Against his better judgment, he grabbed a chair at her table. “Want me to take a look at it?”

  “Uh-uh. It’s embarrassing.”

  His eyes locked on hers. “Nah, come on.”

  She shook her head. “It’s just . . . someone like you wouldn’t understand.”

  “Someone like me?” he repeated. They hardly talked anymore, and when they did it was about how many inches of snow Royal Slope got or which kayak was better for racing. So what did she know about him?

  Deb let out a breath, blowing a strand of dark hair out of her eyes. “Someone who’s Mr. Responsible. Someone who has it together and looks down his nose at us mere mortals.”

  Way to make him sound like he had an iron rod up his ass. A guy could have his finances together and still not be judgmental. She sounded like his brothers.

  “Come on, Deb, when have I ever looked down my nose at anyone?” He leaned across the table and pointed at her bag. “You do know what I do for a living, right? I could probably help you.”

  “No, thanks.”

  “Your choice.” He got up and focused his attention on the counter to see if his doughnuts were ready.

  Felix, the owner, waved him over and started filling a white bakery box with crullers.

  “If you change your mind, you know where to find me,” he said, got his box, and paid at the cash register, sneaking one last look at Deb, who was digging in her purse and didn’t seem to notice that he’d walked away.

  As he left the diner, he wondered for the millionth time why he even bothered.

  Chapter Two

  Deb pulled the spreadsheet back out of her purse the moment TJ left. Her shift started in fifteen minutes and she still hadn’t figured out how she was going to pay for a new car transmission and at the same time make all her bills and next month’s rent. She had no savings and was one paycheck away from being homeless. At least her heap of a car could second as shelter.

  Felix leased her the one-bedroom apartment above the diner. It was the size of a garage, perpetually smelled like french fries, and had a view of a Dumpster. Besides being all she could afford, there’d been a time when it had served its purpose—just a place to lay her head at night.

  But in two weeks she was turning the big 3-0 and was finally taking stock of her life, which to the casual observer could be described as a derailed train. Or just a train to nowhere. Because while everyone else she knew spent adulthood focusing on things like careers, starting families, and buying real estate, she’d worked at a dead-end job, drowning in debt to help her parents tread water.

  They’d worn their fingers to the bone to save a floundering janitorial company, only to wind up broke.

  And though she gave them everything she could, it wasn’t enough. She couldn’t get enough traction to make a difference. She’d attended the local community college but, instead of transferring to a four-year university, ended up waiting tables to keep a roof over all their heads. But now it was time to get serious—or about time. Last spring, she’d applied and been accepted to the University of Nevada, Reno, where she’d hoped to get a degree in community health sciences and specialize in kinesiology. The one true talent she had, one even she had confidence in, was athleticism. But after finding out the cost, she’d had to put the idea on hold until she figured out how to afford it.

  Though it was nice of TJ to offer to help, having him sort through her messy finances would be the final mortification in her already loser life. It was bad enough that her parents used to clean the Garners’ toilets. And, unlike her, TJ was the great American success story.

  He’d gone to the prestigious Haas School of Business at UC Berkeley and had returned to their hometown to turn his parents’ small enterprise into one of the top adventure companies in the western United States. He was smart, entrepreneurial, and ambitious. And once upon a time, he had been her everything. The boy she’d dreamed of someday marrying. And while she was prone to being impractical, she wasn’t stupid. It hadn’t taken her long to figure out that TJ was way above her station.

  And he proved it every time he saw her: by walking in the opposite direction.

  She focused on the spreadsheet and pondered her options. She could try to sell the car and buy a newer one. But who in their right mind would purchase a fourteen-year-old Honda Accord with more than two hundred thousand miles on the odometer and a slipping transmission? No one, that’s who.

  She could charge the repair if not for the fact that her credit cards were maxed out and no legitimate bank in the world would lend to her, not even for a student loan. That ship had sailed along with her FICO scores years ago. Her only solution was to leave the car in its present condition until she could come up with cash. At least work was only a flight of stairs away from her home.

  “Bennett,” Felix bellowed. “You’re up.”

  She glanced at the clock as she shoved the spreadsheet in her bag. Time to sling hash for the lunch crowd.

  The week’s snowfall had brought busloads of skiers to the mountains, which meant the restaurant would be busy. Until recently, the Morning Glory had mostly attracted locals. Tourists tended to eat their meals at the resorts. But more and more of them had discovered the fifties-style diner—complete with black-and-white-check floors and red-vinyl upholstery—with its down-home menu, kid-friendly atmosphere, and moderate prices. The restaurant’s popularity had also grown with the population. Lots of well-heeled folks from the city were now buying or building weekend homes in Glory Junction.

  It was great for tips, but still not enough to dig herself and her parents out of debt and properly support all of them.

  The next hour passed in a blur. One of the servers had called in sick, leaving Deb half the restaurant to serve. Around one, Win and a couple of his buddies came in and grabbed a booth in her section.

  “Ricki, will you take Win’s table?”

  Deb just wasn’t up to seeing him today. Win ignored her half the time anyway. He was always friendly, generous with his smiles, and if he really wanted to throw her a bone, he’d generically compliment her: “Looking good, Bennett.” The attention he gave her was on par with what you would give your neighbor’s Irish setter. Lately, instead of feeli
ng hurt by his indifference, she was okay with it. This was disconcerting because he was supposed to be The One.

  While TJ had been completely out of reach—captain of the varsity ski team, president of the student council, valedictorian, and an Olympic hopeful—Win, an underachiever like her, had seemed like a more realistic fit. They’d been hot and heavy in high school. Her first boyfriend. But when Win went off to college, their different paths killed the relationship. When he came back full time, they’d started up again only to break up a year later. Ever since then, it had been on and off so many times Deb had lost count. Nowadays it was off, even though everyone believed they were destined to be together.

  Unfortunately, she’d also convinced herself that they were the perfect match for way too long. But not anymore. Now, he just felt like another debt on her books and a constant reminder of how much she’d settled in life.

  Ricki grabbed four menus. “Take my table on ten.” She hitched her head at a group of nice-looking men. “You’re welcome.”

  They were up from the city. Deb could tell because they had that Financial District thing going on. Clean-shaven, expensive skiwear, and one of them was reading the Wall Street Journal on his iPad. Guys like them were usually good tippers.

  “What can I get you?” Deb grabbed her order pad from the pocket of her apron.

  One of the men brazenly looked her up and down. “What’s good?” he asked, continuing to leer at her like she was a juicy piece of prime rib.

  “Everything,” she said, antsy to move on. She didn’t like the vibe he was sending off.

  “Well, that’s not very helpful. Why don’t you take a load off and tell us about what you like best?” The one giving her the once-over scooted down on the bench to make room.

  Ugh. Deb would’ve been better off waiting on Win’s table after all.

  She pasted on a smile. “Sorry, can’t. See all these tables of people?” She waved her hand at the rest of the dining room. “They’re waiting for me to take their orders.”

  “But we got you first.” He patted the space next to him. “Come on, you can sit for a minute.”

  “Steve,” one of the others said, his eyes imploring.

  Yeah, Steve, bugger off. She held the gaze of Steve’s friend. “You know what you want?”

  “I’ll take the tuna melt and a side of fries.”

  “To drink?”

  “I’ll stick with water.”

  She went around the table until she came back to Steve. “What’ll it be?”

  “I thought I made myself clear on what I want.” This time, he rested his hand on her thigh.

  The guy had to be kidding. It was the middle of the day, the place was packed with families, the restaurant could double for the freaking set of Happy Days, and Steve here wanted to play grab-ass with the waitress. Not wanting to make a scene, she inched enough to the left that his hand fell away.

  She stared him down.

  “I’ll have the double cheeseburger and the steak fries,” he finally said. “What are you doing after work?” he asked, flashing an unctuous smile that said, I’ve got twenty-five roofies in my pocket.

  Nothing with you. “I’m busy.” She started to walk away when she felt that hand on her leg again. She whirled around. “You don’t want to do that.”

  “Why? You a master in Krav Maga?” He laughed and his hands inched higher.

  “Come on, Steve,” his buddy said, but Steve was too much of a dickwad to listen.

  He was strong and he pulled her against the bench seat until the corner of it dug into her leg. “Just give me a chance. I’m a nice guy.”

  Her eyes dropped to where his hand still rested. “Nice guys don’t put their grubby hands on a woman’s thigh. Get it off. Now!” To punctuate her demand, she jabbed his arm hard with the sharp end of her pencil.

  He yelped and quickly pulled his hand away, putting up his palms in a surrender motion. “All right, all right. Bitchy, aren’t you?”

  “You need to leave.” Suddenly, the restaurant went silent, and Deb could feel the gaze of every diner on her back. Felix, always worried about his profit margin, would surely fire her, but she wasn’t putting up with Steve’s crap. No matter how bad she needed the money. “You heard me. Out!”

  The guy who’d called Steve on his attitude started to slink out of the booth, his face stained bright red.

  “Now wait a minute,” Steve said. “You’re overreacting. I was just being funny.”

  “Take your sense of humor out the door and don’t come back or I’ll file a sexual assault charge against you.”

  Steve started to raise a fuss, but his compadres were smart enough to take her threat seriously and managed to convince him of the wisdom of leaving. They sheepishly filed out of the diner while everyone watched. Everyone but Win, who was flailing his hands, telling a story, completely oblivious. All she could do was laugh to herself, finding it hard to believe this was the guy she’d set her sights on for over the last decade.

  “You okay?” Felix came up beside her. When she nodded, he said, “You did good. You’re a tough cookie, Bennett.”

  That surprised her. Everyone knew Felix was a stickler about the customer-always-being-right thing. Apparently, he set the limit at pervy customers groping his waitresses. “No big deal. I’d better get back to work.” She started to walk away and then stopped. “Thanks, Felix.”

  “For what?”

  “For not firing me.” Lord knew she needed the job . . . and the apartment, such as it was.

  “Hey, no one messes with my employees.”

  After the lunch service, she and Ricki divvied up the tips. Her cut was two hundred bucks, phenomenal for a Wednesday afternoon. People were probably trying to make up for creepy Steve, which helped restore her faith in the human race. Unfortunately, the haul wasn’t going to get her out of her black hole. She grabbed her purse and walked to Sweet Stems to hang out with Foster, who she’d known since high school and would’ve been the love of her life if not for the fact that he played for the other team. So instead, he and Hannah were her besties.

  When she got to the florist shop, he was in the middle of a consultation with two women. From the conversation, Deb deduced that the younger woman was getting married in the spring. Weddings and big floral arrangements for the resorts were Foster’s bread and butter. She snooped around the shop to kill time, found a couple of porcelain figurines of a bride and groom, and posed them in a provocative position to see how long it would take Foster to notice.

  He pulled the statues apart two minutes after the women left and shook his head.

  “Aren’t they for cakes? Why do you even have them in the store?”

  “You’d be surprised at some of the centerpieces people want me to make. I work a lot with fake swans.” He shuddered. “Scary.”

  “When I get married I want a ski theme.” They’d been playing this game since they were sixteen. Each one trying to outdo the other in absurdity. Foster wanted an all-you-can-eat crème brûlée bar.

  “Which reminds me, what are we doing for your birthday?” he asked.

  “Getting drunk and then setting my car on fire.”

  “I’ll bring the gin and marshmallows.” Foster pushed a green bin to his workstation and began tossing cut flower stems into the can. “I told you I’d lend you the money for the transmission.”

  “And I told you how much I appreciate it, but no, thanks.”

  Although Sweet Stems was killing it, Foster still owed a large chunk of change on the floral shop. Between that and the new cottage he’d recently purchased on the south side of town that needed updated electrical and plumbing, he wasn’t doing much better than she was. Well, not exactly as bad. He had a career he loved and owned his own home, while she stood on her feet all day, serving the likes of Steve and his ilk. And the only thing she owned was a piece-of-crap automobile.

  “What about Hannah? Would you let her lend you the money? Because I know she would.”

  “
Nope. Then Josh would have to know and that would be weird.”

  “Why?” Foster wiped down the table and put his tools in neatly arranged compartments. “There’s nothing wrong with needing a little help. Normally, that’s what parents are for.” But Foster knew Deb’s weren’t in a financial position to help her.

  “I’d rather not have people up in my personal business. It’s bad enough that TJ came in the diner while I was studying that list you told me to make and offered to help me figure it out.” It was sufficiently embarrassing that he’d catch her staring at him like a starstruck teenager from time to time. The last thing she needed was him having a bird’s-eye view of how little she’d accomplished in life. At least Win was just a regular guy whose apartment wasn’t much better than hers.

  “I don’t know, Deb. It seems sort of stupid not to take his advice. He’s a financial wiz. All due respect to Gray and Mary Garner, but it’s TJ who grew that company. The guy’s pretty savvy.”

  “I don’t need someone savvy. My problems are simple. I don’t make enough money. I hardly need him to tell me that.”

  “No, but he can play with the numbers, figure out what you should pay down first. Maybe he has some consolidation tricks.”

  She hopped up on the counter. “Why don’t you counsel me? You own a thriving business.”

  Deb watched him pull a bucket of roses from the refrigerator and use a thorn stripper so he wouldn’t get stuck.

  “Here’s my dirty little secret,” Foster said. “I suck at business. I’m way too liberal with my spending.” He glanced at the shelves stacked with high-end vases and fancy containers. “And I’m a terrible bookkeeper. But I’m twenty times more creative and more reliable than the competition and don’t charge that much more. That’s why I do well, not because I’m Richard Branson.

  “You’d be better off taking advice from TJ,” he continued. “He’s a business genius. I mean, he got Delaney Scott, one of the biggest names in high fashion, to design adventure wear for his company when they didn’t even have a retail line! And if he judges you a little, who cares? It’s not like his opinion of you matters, even if he is the hottest single guy in Glory Junction.”