What You See (Sons of the Survivalist #3) - Cherise Sinclair Page 0,50
fellow bar server standing in an upstairs window over the hardware store. “Good morning.” She frowned. Felix looked positively disheveled, hair standing up, a beard shadow. “Rough night?”
His laugh was more grumpy than amused. “Rough two days. On Monday, a friend and I flew up to Godwin Glacier to help set up the dog sledding camp. I twisted my ankle on the ice.”
“Oh, that sucks.”
“Yeah, pretty much.” He grimaced as he moved away from the window.
He was hurting.
And…hadn’t he mentioned he loved working at the roadhouse because he hated to cook. It didn’t even bother him that his rental had only a tiny microwave and mini fridge.
A mini fridge. This was Wednesday. Did he even have food left at home?
A minute later, in the coffee shop, the man behind the counter smiled. “Back again? Did your caffeine wear off already?”
She laughed. “I can always use more. Do you know Felix?” When the man nodded, she added, “What does he usually order—for his drink and pastry?”
“A latte and whatever the scone of the day is.”
“Perfect.” Frankie eyed the counter’s display window. “Then a large latte, a half-dozen of the scones, and one pecan sticky bun. And, since I totally deserve it, how about a large cappuccino with a shot of hazelnut, please. Can you make all that to go, please?”
“My pleasure. Coming right up.”
By the time she arrived back at the hardware store carrying all those goodies, she was glad Bull had given her the night off. The gunshot wound made her arm ache—and didn’t that sound badass?
On the side of the building, she climbed the stairs to the second-floor landing and tapped on the door to the left. “Felix? It’s Frankie.”
“It’s open.”
Balancing the takeout box, she entered the older one-bedroom apartment with a high ceiling, off-white walls, and brown shag carpet. It was probably pre-furnished since she doubted Felix would have chosen the bland blues of the upholstered furniture and landscape paintings.
She glanced at him and grinned at his purple running pants and pale green T-shirt.
On the couch, he pushed to a sitting position. “Girl, what’s up?”
“I brought you some breakfast. And coffee. Obstacles cannot be vanquished properly without coffee.”
His face flushed, a gleam of tears appeared in his eyes, then he smiled. “You’re an angel from heaven.”
“No, my child, from New York, which is a completely different location.” Relieved he’d chosen to laugh, she opened the box and handed over his latte. In the kitchen corner—which needed cleaning—she dug out plates and napkins and arranged the pastries.
“The scones are for you.” After tossing her jacket onto a chair, she fixed him with a stern gaze. “No touching my sticky bun, boy.”
He snickered. “That calls for a filthy response, but I’m not at my best.”
No, he really wasn’t.
Frowning, she sipped her drink, nibbled on her pastry, and studied her surroundings. The rest of the apartment wasn’t truly dirty, just messy.
First things first. She got a pillow off one of the chairs. “Lean back against the armrest and put your foot up on the couch.”
When he did, she tucked the pillow under the one that was all strapped-up. “Did you see the doctor?”
“Doc Caz? Sure.” Felix grinned. “He’s such a hottie.”
“I’d have to agree with you there”—although Bull was much sexier—“but I’m surprised he didn’t arrange for someone to help you.”
Felix flushed. “I said I had it covered, and…he started to ask how, but somebody brought in a guy who’d missed the tree with a chainsaw. Blood everywhere.”
“Ew.”
Felix pointed to her. “See? Exactly how I felt. I hauled ass out of that place.”
“Without getting the help you needed. Bad Felix.” Frankie fixed up an ice bag out of the puny supply of ice in the mini fridge. After laying it on his ankle, she headed for the kitchen. “I’m going to tidy up in here a little.” Most of the mess was containers of food he’d microwaved and dirty glasses and cups.
“Girlfriend, you don’t have to do that.”
“I know. And you didn’t have to help me learn the ropes at the roadhouse.” She grinned at him over her shoulder. “Gratitude paybacks are hell, aren’t they?”
He laughed and relaxed, seeming less lost.
Here in Alaska, she’d learned how it felt, being alone with no one to call. None of her work buddies should ever feel like that. Not if she had anything to say about it.
As she finished up in the kitchen, there was a knock on the door.
Felix shook his head. “That staircase hasn’t seen so much action since the 1900s.” He