Her remark was met with silence although the woman stood and walked toward her. “You’re Quinn Pritchard?”
Quinn forced a smile. She’d deliberately left her maiden name off the online application so no one would associate her with Riley. “Reporting for duty.”
Quinn could finally see her potential boss as the woman came the rest of the way around the bar, her blonde hair cut in a sharp, attractive bob. Quinn’s eyes narrowed. Why did she look so familiar? “I’m sorry, do I know you? Have we met before?”
The woman’s hair fell half over her face as she tilted her head to the side to study Quinn. “I doubt it. I moved to Oak Creek a little bit ago and took over running the bar. I’m Lexi.”
Quinn reached out to shake Lexi’s outstretched hand. “I moved to Oak Creek a couple of days ago myself, so we definitely wouldn’t know each other from here.”
And the chances that a bar manager from Wyoming ran in the same academic circles as Quinn had in Massachusetts were slim to none.
“No worries, I have one of those faces that looks like a million other faces,” Lexi said. “I get the ‘do I know you?’ question all the time.” She gave a small smile.
Quinn nodded. It was better if Lexi didn’t know her anyway.
Lexi grabbed a cup of coffee off the bar and took a sip. “You’re not exactly what I was expecting.”
Quinn touched her painstakingly straightened hair to make sure it hadn’t escaped the bun as she met the other woman’s appraising eyes. She needed this job. “I’m not sure what a weekday lunch-shift waitress looks like, but I can assure you I’m a hard worker.”
Lexi raised a beautifully arched eyebrow. “When you filled out the online form, you said you had experience waiting tables.”
Quinn nodded. “Three years.”
That was the truth. But she’d left out the fact that it had been twenty years ago while she’d been working her way through undergrad.
Lexi continued to study her. “I see. It’s just...you’re not really dressed to work here. You look more like some of the hospital staff who stop by for lunch than someone who would wait tables.”
Quinn looked down at her outfit—khaki pants, navy-blue blouse, low, sensible heels. It was probably the most casual outfit she owned—one Peter had scoffed at as being too casual to wear to a faculty meeting last year. But looking around the bar now, taking in Lexi’s jeans and lightweight sweater...yeah, her ensemble was probably a little too dressy.
She hadn’t thought about that. It had been a long time since a blouse and khakis seemed anywhere near too formal for something.
But it didn’t change the fact that Quinn needed this job.
She blew out a light breath. “Just give me a chance. Like I said, I’m a hard worker. My clothes are still packed, and this was all I had easily available.”
For a second, Quinn was sure Lexi wasn’t going to hire her, but finally, the younger woman nodded, grabbed an apron off the bar, and tossed it in Quinn’s direction.
Quinn missed the catch, and the apron fell to the floor. She’d never had any sort of athletic ability whatsoever, which was part of the reason academia had appealed to her in the first place. She gave a forced laugh and muttered about being a klutz as she bent over to pick it up and tie it around her waist.
“There’s no computer system.” Lexi turned back toward the bar, motioning for Quinn to follow. “You come back here to the kitchen and call out the orders so Mac or I can make them. We don’t have a very big menu yet, and since we just started opening for lunch this week, the crowds haven’t been unbearable. It’s pretty standard stuff. I’ll check customers out at the register. If you last the week, then maybe we can train you on that too.”
“I’ll last a week. Don’t worry.”
She didn’t have any other choice.
Chapter Two
Two hours later, Quinn was sure she wasn’t going to last the day, much less the week.
She’d just delivered the wrong plate to the wrong table. Again.
She had three university degrees—a bachelor’s, a master’s, and a doctorate. She had taught for more than ten years at what was arguably the most prestigious university in the country, and yet somehow, she couldn’t manage to get relatively simple lunch orders out to the correct tables.
She didn’t remember it being this hard when she’d waited tables at eighteen. Why was it so