Beautiful Sacrifice (The Maddox Brothers, #3)(61)

I relaxed in bed and played on my phone for half an hour and then decided to take a shower, dress for work, and head downstairs. Pete was pulling out ingredients for prep, and I sat on the far counter, watching him work.

“Good morning,” I said, letting my legs swing.

Pete dipped his head.

“He spent the night again. I think … I think I love him—like, really love him,” I said, my eyes widening for emphasis. “I thought I loved him before, but I think that was just the falling part. Every week that passes, I think, Yep. I love him way more. Maybe I didn’t love him before now? Maybe this is love.”

Pete shrugged.

“Do you have a date for Valentine’s Day?”

He frowned and shook his head.

“You should. You’re a good guy.”

He winked at me and continued working.

“Good morning!” Chuck said, pushing through the swinging doors. “I haven’t seen you down here this early in a while, Falyn.”

I shrugged. “Couldn’t go back to sleep after Taylor left.”

Phaedra pulled the small leather pack she used as a purse off one shoulder and shoved it into a bottom cabinet. She brushed her wiry low ponytail off her shoulder. “How was dinner?”

I hopped off the counter. “Amazing, as usual.”

“Are you going to up and leave us for Estes Park?”

I shrugged. “He’s mentioned it. I said no.”

“No?” Phaedra looked to Chuck.

Chuck tied his apron strings behind his back. “He could apply at one of the stations here. If they have a spot open, they’d hire him.”

“They don’t,” I said. “He put a call in a couple of weeks ago.”

“Well, he should apply anyway,” Phaedra said with her gravelly voice.

“He might.”

“He might? He might be the one then, huh?” Chuck asked.

Three pairs of eyes targeted me.

I rolled my eyes. “It’s too early in the morning and too early in the relationship to be talking about that nonsense.” I picked up a tray and pushed through the double doors. I loaded it with salt and pepper shakers and then brought it back to unscrew the tops.

Phaedra started several pots of coffee, powered on the register, and counted the drawer. She watched me return the full shakers to the tables. Hector arrived as the sun chased the shadows from Tejon Street, and he and Chuck were cracking jokes in the back, being so silly that even Pete was laughing out loud. By the time Kirby arrived, I had everything ready. Every employee at The Bucksaw Café was officially in a good mood.

The morning sun reflected off the white snow piled up on each side of the sidewalk, shining uncomfortably bright even through the transparent solar shades Phaedra had installed specifically to cut down on the glare. In spite of the intense light pouring in, a peaceful feeling seemed to have settled over everyone in the building—or maybe it had always been there, and I was finally free enough to feel it.

“I like it when Taylor stays over,” Kirby said, tying on her apron. “He makes my life a lot easier.”

“How’s Gunnar?” I asked.

“Stressed. He took too many hours this semester, and he’s still driving to Boulder, working for the sorority house, which—I have to admit—is a good job for him. His boss works with Gunnar’s school schedule, and the girls treat him like a little brother—or so he says.”

Just before Phaedra flipped over the sign to show we were open, my cell phone buzzed.

Made it. On time. Love you.

I breathed a sigh of relief. “He made it okay.”

“Oh, that’s good,” Kirby said. “That’s not the best drive when it’s snowing.”

“That doesn’t help.”

“Sorry,” she said. She greeted and then seated the first customers of the day.

I responded to Taylor’s text and then slid my phone into my apron before walking over to a table with glasses of water. Tourists—an older gentleman and his white-haired wife—settled in at Don’s favorite table. Chuck had had a small plaque made, and Phaedra had replaced the beat-up, rusted Alaska license plate that hung above where Don used to sit. I glanced up at the words engraved in the gold plating.

THIS TABLE IS DEDICATED IN LOVING MEMORY OF





DONALD MCGENSEY


The gentleman removed his hat and propped his cane against the wall.

“My name is Falyn, and I’ll be your server this morning. May I get you a cup of coffee to start?”

“Yes,” he said, opening the menu Kirby had set in front of him. “Half-and-half, please.”

“The same,” his wife said.

“You got it.” I returned to the drink station, pouring them fresh cups of coffee.

Kirby strolled from her podium and around the bar to where I stood. “You have a look.”

“What kind of look?”

“A happy look. More than happy. Things seem to be going well with Taylor.”

“Yes.”

“I have to say, I’m a little surprised that you even gave him a chance. You haven’t given any hotshot the time of day since I met you.”

“He’s different.”

“He must be because those are the famous last words of every girl left behind around here, and I would never have thought I’d hear you say them.”