After four messed-up orders in a row, she realized she couldn’t keep it all in her head and started writing everything down. That had helped some, at least her academically wired brain responded well to lists. But everybody asked her questions and changed their orders and wanted adjustments to how things were cooked...and that was the opposite of how Quinn normally worked in her quiet, windowless office—focusing on one task at a time with Debussy playing gently in the background.
Not to mention her feet were killing her.
Lexi had been right about her clothing. Quinn’s khakis and blouse were a little restrictive, but not too bad. It was her shoes, her sensible heels, that did not make one bit of sense in this situation. She almost fell every time she went back into the kitchen. The attractive crop of the shoe around the toes would be perfect to hear a PhD thesis defense; however, the pointy cut was quite a bit less than perfect for nearly running between tables for hours.
The first thing she was going to do when she got out of here was purchase the flattest, most comfortable, who-the-heck-cares-if-they’re-attractive shoes she could find for tomorrow.
If she still had a job here tomorrow.
“Look, it’s not complicated.” The gorgeous blonde in nurse’s scrubs raised a perfectly styled eyebrow at Quinn. “Two vegetable Paninis. The one with onions was for me now and the one without onions was to-go.” She pointed at Quinn’s tray with a perfectly manicured nail to match her perfect eyebrows.
This was the third time this particular woman had sent her order back. The first time she’d said Quinn had gotten the bread wrong. The second time she’d changed her mind and decided she wanted sweet potato fries rather than regular fries right before the order was ready. And now this.
Quinn could not have screwed it up again. She looked down at her notepad. “I’m pretty sure you said no onions for you and yes onions on the one to-go. I wrote it right here.”
“And yet here I am telling you that you got it wrong. Again. You know what? Let’s forget the whole thing. I’ll take my business elsewhere.”
Oh crap. Oh crap. Oh crap. Lexi was definitely going to fire Quinn if she screwed this up and somebody left because of it.
Quinn glanced around, heat burning up her cheeks as she realized pretty much every customer in the place was staring at her. The composure she’d fought so hard to perfect for the past dozen years was slipping faster than she could get her mask back into place.
Why was she not capable of getting something so simple right?
Why was she not capable of getting anything in her life right lately?
What you’ve turned out to be is such a disappointment, Quinn.
Peter’s words floated through her mind as she gripped the tray so tightly her fingers went numb. She tried to swallow down the lump moving up her throat. She couldn’t lose her composure in front of the restaurant full of strangers.
She’d thought what had happened at Harvard was as low as she could go, but she was afraid she might be about to find out otherwise.
The blonde was still staring at Quinn with her eyebrow raised, waiting. The tray shook in Quinn’s clenched hands.
Say something.
“I—I—”
“Mia, there’s not a person who’s lived in Oak Creek longer than five minutes who doesn’t know about your aversion to onions. Don’t act like you’re going to eat that sandwich.”
The words came from a deep voice in the booth behind the pretty nurse. Quinn was afraid to turn and look. She hadn’t been aware someone was sitting there. No telling how long he’d been there waiting for service.
Mia glared at the man. “You stay out of it, Baby. Maybe my eating habits have changed recently.”
Baby? Were they a couple? Quinn spun around to look at the man.
...and nearly swallowed her tongue. This man definitely was not a baby.
Mid- to late-twenties and gorgeous? Yes. Head full of dark hair and a closely trimmed beard that emphasized his strong jaw and uplifted cheekbones? Yes. Green eyes that made her think of a forest she wanted to get lost in? Yes.
But baby? No.
He lounged back in the booth which did nothing to take away from the way his white T-shirt stretched over his chest and broad shoulders, testing the seams.
His rugged, blue-collared handsomeness was in direct juxtaposition with the suave, academic men she’d been surrounded by most of her adult life.