When a silence as awkward as eighties hair fell over the place, I realized Dixie was waiting for a response.
I stammered and said, "I'm sure I will be."
"Nice jacket," Reyes said before making his way back to the kitchen.
"Can you believe it?" Dixie asked.
"Nope."
"Half the town is in love with him. He'll be great for business."
I looked through the pass-out window. Sumi, the tough-as-nails chef who could kill me with a toothpick, was just as smitten with Reyes as the rest of us. What the hell?
I looked at Dixie. "Are you sure about this?"
She graced me with a Grand Canyon grin. "Most definitely." Then she winked and leaned in. "Dude can cook."
"This just seems wrong," I said to Cookie when Dixie left. "On all kinds of levels. I mean, what do we really know about him? He could be a serial killer or a drug dealer or a -"
"Supermodel?" Cookie asked.
She had a point.
"But," I said, lowering a brow on her, "is there anything you want to tell me?"
Her lids widened, and her gaze darted to the left as though she were trying to come up with something. "I don't think so."
"You knew about this," I accused, my voice … accusing.
"What?" she asked, dropping her jaw. When I pursed my lips like the Church Lady, she caved. The Church Lady had that effect on people.
"All right, I did." She wilted under my harsh scrutiny, tried to look apologetic. It didn't work.
I was flabbergasted. "How? When? How?"
"Dixie told me yesterday while you were passed out on the cot."
She was lying. Partially, anyway. But I couldn't tell which parts she was lying about.
"Oh."
Pretty soon, however, it didn't matter. We turned back to watch the show. Reyes hooked an apron over his head, wrapped the ties around his waist, and folded them into a neat knot. The muscles in his forearms flexed with each movement. His biceps contracted and retracted with the minuscule effort. How could any man look as good putting on clothes as he did taking them off?
We leaned our heads together and admired the view until he turned toward us. At which point we jumped on the task at hand. That task consisted of Cookie grabbing a towel and polishing the lid of a saltshaker and me straightening napkins. Gawd, we sucked at improv. But suddenly I didn't care so much about how Cookie knew as about how it all came to be. I mean, Reyes? Here? At the café? All morning every morning?
This would be either my greatest fantasy come true or my worst nightmare.
We went about our day doing the usual. We also worked a little. Mr. P came in with stripper in tow and demon in gut like an evil embryo. I usually tried to ignore the thing inside him, but it had moved. It had turned. Just a little. Just enough to make me worry what would happen after it finished its gestation period. Would it hurt Mr. P? Was there anything I could do to help him?
One thing I did do last night while I was shivering off that fifth cup of coffee was come up with a plan about Erin. I was the only one who could see Creepy Decomposing Lady in her daughter's image, so maybe I could find out if the woman was a real threat or if she just liked photobombing. It could have been a total coincidence. But the fact that both of Erin's previous babies died suddenly put a kernel of doubt in my mind. No, more like a brigadier general of doubt.
First, I needed to get Erin's phone and check all of her images, so that was on my to-do list for the day. But I couldn't do that until she came in at eleven. My second plan was to get a message to Mr. V if he showed up for work.
A departed man, the same one that had been showing up every morning around that time, appeared in a booth in Cookie's section. He always sat at that same booth at the same time. I'd wondered about him. He had graying blond hair and a kind face, but he never spoke to me. He never even looked my way. I figured he was working shit out. I could understand that.
"Cookie, we have a breakfast order for Mr. Vandenberg next door," Dixie said. "Want to take it over?"
Already? That was awfully early for Mr. V to be ordering anything. He didn't even open until ten o'clock.
I lunged forward with my hand raised. "I'll take it!" I said. I'd panicked and shouted way more enthusiastically than I'd planned.
Reyes paused what he was doing – namely flipping the sexiest eggs I'd ever seen – and leveled a curious stare on me.
I cleared my throat. "Sorry. I can take it. I need to ask Mr. V about … a lamp."
Dixie took note of how many customers I had.