Read Online Surviving Love (Montana Wilds Book 1) by Willow Summers - Free Book Online
Authors: Willow Summers
Ads: Link
might take one of those hikes y’all got. Then we’re signed up to learn how to make a fire without, well, fire!”
“Oh? Sounds interesting.” It didn’t, but they didn’t have to know that. “What can I get for you? Would you like some coffee?”
“Well, now…” The woman pursed her lips, looking down her menu slowly.
“I’ll have some coffee, yes please.” The man folded his hands on the table and smiled up at Sara.
“No problem.” Sara turned her sparkling “I am here to serve you and have nothing better to do but wait” smile back on the woman. She didn’t want to repeat herself, but she had two other tables to get to and the decision to have coffee really shouldn’t take this long.
“Hmmm,” the woman said, analyzing the print.
“Just get a coffee, honey, so this young lady can get on her way,” the man said pleasantly.
“Well, I’m getting to it.” The woman waved her husband away testily.
“Or, if you prefer, I make a mean Mimosa or a Bloody Mary…” Sara smiled at the next table, trying to indicate they’d only have to wait just a smidge longer. When she turned back, the woman was looking at her with slightly widened eyes.
Sara had one second to feel a rush of fear, thinking she’d made a faux pas of some sort, before a wicked grin lit up the woman’s face. “Yes, dear, I think that is exactly what I need. Mimosa it is!”
“Great! I’ll be right back for your orders.”
She visited the next two tables in a relaxed sort of bustle. Smiling and cheery, she collected drink orders and floated back to the minibar near the kitchen.
“You got any orders yet or what?” Ethel shouted.
The executive chef, a graying man with a straight back, swung his gaze from a stack of clever orange peel twists and speared Ethel with a glare. She scowled right back, one spatula-clutching hand fisted on her hip.
“Drink orders. Is this a beer and wine bar only? There’s vodka and champagne, right?” Sara checked over the supplies.
“Limited bar, but enough to get by,” the chef said in a stodgy voice thick with command. He probably ran a large kitchen, orchestrating tickets with practice and ease. And now here he was, dealing with a couple of jerks in a small kitchen.
He must’ve been making a ton.
When Sara was finally back with her first couple orders, she heard, “Girl, you are slower than a slug moving through peanut butter!”
“Florence, just take the order,” Christie yelled back as she stepped up beside Sara, two tickets clutched in her hand. She gave Sara an exasperated eye roll, to which Sara smirked. Waitresses versus cooks. She could play this game.
Her butt vibrated.
With a flurry of butterflies, she couldn’t help the jubilant smile as she ducked behind the waitress station and whisked out her phone. She shouldn’t have brought it—it was unprofessional and distracting—but she missed Mikey. He was exactly the same, only better.
Text from Mikey: How goes your first day?
Glancing around the partition, she noticed one of her customers was about ready for another drink. She bent to her phone with flying fingers.
Text from Sara: surviving. what u doing?
She paused a second, wondering if he’d text back right away. Just as she was about to stuff the phone back in her pocket, it vibrated again.
Text from Mikey: Lunch.
An image accompanied the text. She touched it, glancing back at that table, the woman now looking up for service. As Sara’s gaze turned back to the phone, her breath caught. The phone held a beautiful tableau of grassy, rolling hills dusted with limitless sky so clear and blue it looked like heaven reaching down to shake hands with the people on earth. Her chest grew warm and her hands tingled. She wanted to be sitting next to him taking in that beautiful scenery so bad it had just become a complex.
“What are you standing around there for?” Ethel said. “We got people to feed!”
Sighing, Sara spun around and snapped off a pic of the
“Oh? Sounds interesting.” It didn’t, but they didn’t have to know that. “What can I get for you? Would you like some coffee?”
“Well, now…” The woman pursed her lips, looking down her menu slowly.
“I’ll have some coffee, yes please.” The man folded his hands on the table and smiled up at Sara.
“No problem.” Sara turned her sparkling “I am here to serve you and have nothing better to do but wait” smile back on the woman. She didn’t want to repeat herself, but she had two other tables to get to and the decision to have coffee really shouldn’t take this long.
“Hmmm,” the woman said, analyzing the print.
“Just get a coffee, honey, so this young lady can get on her way,” the man said pleasantly.
“Well, I’m getting to it.” The woman waved her husband away testily.
“Or, if you prefer, I make a mean Mimosa or a Bloody Mary…” Sara smiled at the next table, trying to indicate they’d only have to wait just a smidge longer. When she turned back, the woman was looking at her with slightly widened eyes.
Sara had one second to feel a rush of fear, thinking she’d made a faux pas of some sort, before a wicked grin lit up the woman’s face. “Yes, dear, I think that is exactly what I need. Mimosa it is!”
“Great! I’ll be right back for your orders.”
She visited the next two tables in a relaxed sort of bustle. Smiling and cheery, she collected drink orders and floated back to the minibar near the kitchen.
“You got any orders yet or what?” Ethel shouted.
The executive chef, a graying man with a straight back, swung his gaze from a stack of clever orange peel twists and speared Ethel with a glare. She scowled right back, one spatula-clutching hand fisted on her hip.
“Drink orders. Is this a beer and wine bar only? There’s vodka and champagne, right?” Sara checked over the supplies.
“Limited bar, but enough to get by,” the chef said in a stodgy voice thick with command. He probably ran a large kitchen, orchestrating tickets with practice and ease. And now here he was, dealing with a couple of jerks in a small kitchen.
He must’ve been making a ton.
When Sara was finally back with her first couple orders, she heard, “Girl, you are slower than a slug moving through peanut butter!”
“Florence, just take the order,” Christie yelled back as she stepped up beside Sara, two tickets clutched in her hand. She gave Sara an exasperated eye roll, to which Sara smirked. Waitresses versus cooks. She could play this game.
Her butt vibrated.
With a flurry of butterflies, she couldn’t help the jubilant smile as she ducked behind the waitress station and whisked out her phone. She shouldn’t have brought it—it was unprofessional and distracting—but she missed Mikey. He was exactly the same, only better.
Text from Mikey: How goes your first day?
Glancing around the partition, she noticed one of her customers was about ready for another drink. She bent to her phone with flying fingers.
Text from Sara: surviving. what u doing?
She paused a second, wondering if he’d text back right away. Just as she was about to stuff the phone back in her pocket, it vibrated again.
Text from Mikey: Lunch.
An image accompanied the text. She touched it, glancing back at that table, the woman now looking up for service. As Sara’s gaze turned back to the phone, her breath caught. The phone held a beautiful tableau of grassy, rolling hills dusted with limitless sky so clear and blue it looked like heaven reaching down to shake hands with the people on earth. Her chest grew warm and her hands tingled. She wanted to be sitting next to him taking in that beautiful scenery so bad it had just become a complex.
“What are you standing around there for?” Ethel said. “We got people to feed!”
Sighing, Sara spun around and snapped off a pic of the
Similar Books
