Never Doubt Me: Judge Me Not #2(29)

A waitress who looks like she’s worked at Pizza House for the past twenty years comes around the corner, just as Nick is heading toward the back.

He stops her midstep and tells her what we ordered, then adds, “Can you ring them up, Vi?”

“No problem, sweetie,” Vi replies warmly as she reaches for an order pad in the pocket of her apron. She removes a pen from the big bun on her head—dark hair streaked with gray—and recites the items we ordered while she writes them down.

When she steps over to the register, her eyes following her fingers as she taps in our order on a touch screen, she asks me, “So, young man, you being good to our girl?”

Clearly, Vi recognizes me as the local bad boy dating the beloved former Pizza House employee.

I smile charmingly when she looks up and I hand her the money. “Yes, ma’am, I am.”

She smiles as she peruses my face and my body. These older women are killing me today.

She takes the cash from my hand and says, “I swear, that Kay is one lucky girl. It’s been like a gathering of her good-looking men—past and present—in here this afternoon.” She proceeds to count off the list with her fingers. “Let’s see, there’s you, Nick, that last customer—”

Whoa…wait. “The last customer? What are you talking about?”

She hands me my change and gives me a look like maybe I’ve missed something important. “That man who was leaving just as you arrived…he used to date Kay.”

Oh shit.

I sure did miss something important. Now I know why the dude looked so familiar. Doug-motherf*cking-Wilson was no more than eight feet from me less than ten minutes ago. If only he’d turned around, then I would’ve recognized his face.

Fuck, this is bad. Kay’s mother wasn’t bullshitting; Doug is in Harmony Creek, right on schedule. And that means he’ll be looking for Kay so he can spew forth his four-years-too-late apology.

Yeah, right. Not if I have anything to say about it. That f*cker is not going to unload his guilty conscience onto my girl. She’s finally at a place of peace, coming to terms with Sarah’s untimely death. And Doug-f*cking-Wilson isn’t going to be bringing that shit back to the forefront of sweet girl’s mind.

Kay doesn’t want to see him anyway, she’s told me as much. And she sure as f*ck doesn’t need Doug’s phony apologies.

I had considered taking preventative action when Kay first told me about her ex’s plan, but now I am certain—I’m going to make sure that dickhead stays far away from Kay. Too bad he left the restaurant, or I’d nip that shit in the bud today.

Vi misreads the displeased look on my face. She says in a low but consolingly voice, “Aww, don’t you worry, gorgeous. You’re definitely the most handsome.”

I roll my eyes, and Will laughs out loud.

Nick returns a minute later and shoos away Vi. “Sorry about that,” he says apologetically. “She’s quite the talker.”

Will shakes his head. “Bro, this is one small f*cking town.”

He doesn’t even know the half of it.

Nick chuckles like he’s agreeing with Will, but he shuts the f*ck up when he sees my expression. I don’t have a problem with him, not at the present. Nope. But I do have an idea. And I’m about to enlist Nick’s help in taking care of the problem I presently face.

“So”—I lean forward on the counter—“the guy who was leaving with the takeout when we first got here, that was Doug Wilson, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Nick replies slowly, eyes wary. “Why?”

I shrug. “I hear he’s in town for the next week or so. Does he come in here much when he’s around?”

Nick’s concern with my question is obvious, his expression is grim. But he answers nonetheless, “Yeah, Doug picks up a lot of takeout whenever he’s around. I’m sure he’ll be back.”

I grab an order pad off the counter and scribble down my cell phone number. “Do me a favor”—I tear the slip of paper from the pad and hold it out to a reluctant Nick—“give me a call next time he places an order. Hold him up a little, if you can. Give me some time to get here.”

Nick takes the slip of paper and stares down at the number I’ve written. “Is there some reason why you want to see him in person?” His voice is a mere whisper.

“Yeah, I got something I need to talk to him about.”

Knowing my background and my temper better than anyone, Will whistles under his breath. The kid knows what’s up.

I ignore Will, and raise a questioning brow Nick’s way. “Are you cool with helping me out with this?”

He folds the piece of paper and slips it into a pocket of his pants. “Yeah, sure. I’ll let you know when Doug orders again.” His eyes dart from me to Will, and then he points to the back of the restaurant. “Uh, your pizzas are probably ready. I should go check.”

After Nick is out of sight, Will says, “You look pissed. What was that all about?”

I mess with the order pads on the counter, stacking them up. “Nothing.”

“You got some ass to kick, I can help,” Will offers.

“Hey”—I turn abruptly and point a finger at my too-eager-to-fight brother—“you are doing nothing of the kind. This next week is all about you staying out of trouble, not getting into it. Got it?”