Read Online Flirting with Love by Melissa Foster - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Melissa Foster
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waitresses wore pink uniforms with white aprons, with their names embroidered above their left breasts. She spotted Margie filling up a coffee mug and chatting with an old man. She had a friendly smile that didn’t falter as she set the mug on the counter in front of him, then filled two more. A bell rang and the word “up” sailed into the air from a pass-through in the wall that Elisabeth could see led to the kitchen. Margie grabbed the plates, checked them against her order sheet, and smiled through the pickup window.
“Thanks, Sam.” She delivered the coffee and food to a table in the corner and was back in an instant. Margie did a quick once-over of Elisabeth’s outfit. Her lips curved up in a way that could mean she thought Elisabeth looked pretty—or completely out of place.
Elisabeth felt a little queasy.
“Hi there, sugar,” Margie said. “You looking for a seat? Gonna be a few minutes.”
“No, actually, I’m Elisabeth Nash from Trusty Pies. I have a pie order for you.” How could Margie not recognize her? Everyone else in this town seemed to know exactly who she was.
A couple at a nearby table looked her over as Margie had and gave her one of those stink-eye looks that made her skin crawl. She held her head up high, remembering Ross’s words. To people around here, you’re a stranger, because you didn’t grow up here. They’ll come around. As much as it stung, he was right. They didn’t know her. She took a deep breath and smiled at the couple. All she needed was time for them to get to know her and they’d come around.
She hoped.
Margie’s eyes dropped to the cooler by her feet. “I’m sorry. I know who you are, but I missed the cooler.” She leaned in close. “Don’t let anyone know it got by me. I’ve got a reputation to uphold. Eagle eyes and elephant ears.” She winked and nodded to the door to the kitchen. “Take it right back there, sugar. Sam’ll get you all set up.”
“Pies coming back,” Margie called into the kitchen.
The kitchen smelled like a morning buffet: eggs, buttery toast, bacon, sausage, and pan-fried potatoes. Elisabeth had been so busy baking—and thinking of Ross—that she had totally forgotten to eat breakfast.
“Set ’em on the racks.” Sam was a balding, big-bellied man with jowls that jiggled when he turned and beady eyes that weren’t smiling.
Elisabeth set the pies on the rack. “I added an extra pie. Raspberry apricot. I thought you might want to try it.”
Sam grunted something inaudible.
“It smells so good in here. You must be an amazing cook.” She smiled at him, but he never looked up to see it. He grumbled again, and Elisabeth took that as her cue to leave.
The rest of the deliveries didn’t go any better. She’d had four stops, each of which began with a once-over and ended with a grunt or something just as reluctant. She drove down to Wynchels’ Farm to end her errands on a nicer note and clear her mind from the unpleasant interactions. She needed more goat milk for Kennedy. She’d bought some at the store in town, but she preferred fresh. And the idea of a farmers’ market conjured up images of smiling farmers and colorful fruits and vegetables. She smiled at the thought, feeling hopeful for a happier end to her afternoon.
The driveway to Wynchels’ Farm was buffered on both sides by trees and wound through acres of orchards before finally ending at a gravel parking lot. Elisabeth parked in the lot and two big dogs ambled over. She loved them up, noting their tangled fur, then followed hand-painted wooden signs that read, STORE IN BARN. The barn was enormous, built of weathered wood, and inside, it smelled of a mixture of fruit and hay. Elisabeth stood in the doorway and inhaled deeply as she drank it all in. She’d always imagined buying fresh fruits and vegetables from a place like this, with row after row of tables topped with baskets of produce, freshly picked, and actually on a farm rather than a farm stand in
“Thanks, Sam.” She delivered the coffee and food to a table in the corner and was back in an instant. Margie did a quick once-over of Elisabeth’s outfit. Her lips curved up in a way that could mean she thought Elisabeth looked pretty—or completely out of place.
Elisabeth felt a little queasy.
“Hi there, sugar,” Margie said. “You looking for a seat? Gonna be a few minutes.”
“No, actually, I’m Elisabeth Nash from Trusty Pies. I have a pie order for you.” How could Margie not recognize her? Everyone else in this town seemed to know exactly who she was.
A couple at a nearby table looked her over as Margie had and gave her one of those stink-eye looks that made her skin crawl. She held her head up high, remembering Ross’s words. To people around here, you’re a stranger, because you didn’t grow up here. They’ll come around. As much as it stung, he was right. They didn’t know her. She took a deep breath and smiled at the couple. All she needed was time for them to get to know her and they’d come around.
She hoped.
Margie’s eyes dropped to the cooler by her feet. “I’m sorry. I know who you are, but I missed the cooler.” She leaned in close. “Don’t let anyone know it got by me. I’ve got a reputation to uphold. Eagle eyes and elephant ears.” She winked and nodded to the door to the kitchen. “Take it right back there, sugar. Sam’ll get you all set up.”
“Pies coming back,” Margie called into the kitchen.
The kitchen smelled like a morning buffet: eggs, buttery toast, bacon, sausage, and pan-fried potatoes. Elisabeth had been so busy baking—and thinking of Ross—that she had totally forgotten to eat breakfast.
“Set ’em on the racks.” Sam was a balding, big-bellied man with jowls that jiggled when he turned and beady eyes that weren’t smiling.
Elisabeth set the pies on the rack. “I added an extra pie. Raspberry apricot. I thought you might want to try it.”
Sam grunted something inaudible.
“It smells so good in here. You must be an amazing cook.” She smiled at him, but he never looked up to see it. He grumbled again, and Elisabeth took that as her cue to leave.
The rest of the deliveries didn’t go any better. She’d had four stops, each of which began with a once-over and ended with a grunt or something just as reluctant. She drove down to Wynchels’ Farm to end her errands on a nicer note and clear her mind from the unpleasant interactions. She needed more goat milk for Kennedy. She’d bought some at the store in town, but she preferred fresh. And the idea of a farmers’ market conjured up images of smiling farmers and colorful fruits and vegetables. She smiled at the thought, feeling hopeful for a happier end to her afternoon.
The driveway to Wynchels’ Farm was buffered on both sides by trees and wound through acres of orchards before finally ending at a gravel parking lot. Elisabeth parked in the lot and two big dogs ambled over. She loved them up, noting their tangled fur, then followed hand-painted wooden signs that read, STORE IN BARN. The barn was enormous, built of weathered wood, and inside, it smelled of a mixture of fruit and hay. Elisabeth stood in the doorway and inhaled deeply as she drank it all in. She’d always imagined buying fresh fruits and vegetables from a place like this, with row after row of tables topped with baskets of produce, freshly picked, and actually on a farm rather than a farm stand in
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