Christmas Kisses with My Cowboy - Diana Palmer Page 0,55
dug her hands into her hips and glared down at her boss, which was impressive since, at only five-three, Faith spent most of her life looking up at people.
“Well then, shoo.” Viola swatted her with the spatula. “We’ve got hungry customers and the food’s getting cold. Now go fetch a basket of biscuits for table five.”
“Yes, Mrs. McKinney,” Faith said, sweet as pie.
“Don’t take that tone with me. I don’t know what to do with nice.”
With an even warmer smile, Faith grabbed a basket of steaming biscuits—because this was an around-the-clock biscuit establishment—and honey butter and headed toward table five, where one of her best friends was holding court.
Gina Echols was dressed in a sharp-looking blue suit, a pair of candy red heels, and enough bravado to cut steel. She was superhero worthy and ready to kick some serious bad-guy butt. Which was fitting since she worked as a lawyer for the County Prosecutor’s office.
Faith set down the basket of biscuits. “On the house.”
“The biscuits are always on the house. Your uniform literally says, BISCUITS ARE FREE. JUST DON’T ASK ME TO BUTTER THEM,” Gina said, not bothering to look up from the brief she was reading. “Plus, no biscuits on court day. Carbs are for the weak.”
“I put extra honey butter in there.”
Work forgotten, Gina snatched the basket to peek in. She took a big sniff, her head sagging against her chest in defeat. “You play dirty.”
“I can’t help it—I’m an enabler at heart.”
“Next time enable someone who didn’t skip their morning run, three years in a row,” Gina said around a mouthful of buttered biscuit.
“Your usual then. A coffee, eggs and bacon scramble with extra bacon on the side.”
“Don’t forget to hold the fruit.”
“Got it.” She had turned to walk away when Gina pulled out a dollar bill and stuck it in the hem of Faith’s skirt. Faith snatched the bill and glared. “What’s this?”
“I was hoping you’d tell me.” Her You’re busted expression said Gina wasn’t asking for a rundown on today’s specials.
“I’m bringing my double-soaked bourbon balls to the wrapping party,” Faith said, and Gina pulled out another bill, making a big deal about it. Faith snatched that one, too. “Who told you?”
Gina pointed to the sheriff, sitting at the counter and out of uniform, waving a few bills in the air. “According to Deputy Do Little, you were running through town dressed to impress.”
Faith paused, silently repeating what Gina had said. Backtracking to be sure Gina had only accused one annoying officer of the law of being a bigmouth.
“So Noah didn’t tell you anything about last night?”
She had to be sure. She also didn’t know why it was so important to her that Noah had kept his word, but her heart said it was.
“Noah? As in Tucker? No, I haven’t seen him since . . . God, since he blew through town last summer.” Gina’s grin widened and she leaned forward, resting her chin on her hands. “But clearly you’ve seen Noah Tucker. And from the way you’re blushing, I’d say it was last night.”
“I ran into him on my way home from work,” she said, which wasn’t a total lie. She had gone from the hospital straight to the sheriff’s station. But she didn’t need Gina to know she’d made a pit stop to spread some holiday cheer.
“Explain ‘ran into him.’”
“Like I said, he was headed into the sheriff’s station and we ran into each other. End of story.”
“I see. Well, in this story, the one where you ran into Noah Tucker, what did he tell you?”
“He’s not some legend who requires his surname whenever you speak of him, and I’m not on the stand. So can we call him just Noah?”
“Wow, one night and you go from mooning over him to calling him Just Noah. Impressive. That costume must have really been something.”
“Can you not?” She set down the tray and shoved Gina over, scooching into the booth. “I mooned over him, past tense, like more than a whole decade in the past, past tense. So I’d appreciate it if you’d never mention it again.”
“So no flutters?”
“No.”
There had been no flutters. Now tingles, that was another story. So many tingles she’d almost said yes to coffee, then remembered her resolution to stop dating the wrong kind of men.
Since the right kind of men didn’t exist in Sweet Plains, she’d been a little man starved of late. Which was the only logical reason she could come up with for why he’d gotten under her