Celebrate in Good Hope (Good Hope #22)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

Rosalie Carson stared at the rapidly filling tables and fought a pang of unease. This was her first day at Muddy Boots, and Roe wasn’t sure she was ready for her own section.

The café, located in the center of the Good Hope business district—and, some might say, the heart of the vibrant community on the Door County peninsula—was extremely popular, especially during the holiday season.

Roe turned. “I don’t know if I can handle four tables alone.”

“You’re ready.” Helen, her trainer this morning, met her panicked gaze with a no-nonsense one. The older woman, known for her orange hair and lipstick, waved away her concerns.

She appeared to have no doubts about Roe’s ability to fly solo. Roe only wished she felt as confident.

For the next two hours, Roe took orders and delivered food. Beckett Cross, the owner of Muddy Boots, had hired a high school boy to keep coffee cups full, but Roe refilled the cups for those in her section when she had time.

Peyton Lenz, a young woman in her late twenties with burnished-copper hair and chocolate-brown eyes, returned to the window to place an order at the same time as Roe.

Peyton’s job as a receptionist at a local mental health center kept her busy during the week, but she’d confided to Roe that the money she earned from tips on the weekends at Muddy Boots had made it possible for her to take a trip to Cancun with friends last year.

Roe liked the staff at Muddy Boots. She’d instantly felt welcomed and part of the team. Was that because they knew she was Dakota Slattery’s friend? Or maybe they were just that friendly.

“You’re doing amazing.” Peyton offered an approving smile. “I dropped a whole tray of food the first time I was on my own.”

Before Roe could respond, Peyton gave a little shudder. “Lettuce and salad dressing everywhere.”

“And yet, they let you keep working.” Roe kept her tone light and teasing. It was more a comment than a question, because Peyton was still waiting tables at the scene of the lettuce crime.

“Beck said it could happen to anyone.” Peyton leaned close and lowered her voice. “Helen, well, I think she’d have sacked me right then and there if she’d been in charge.”

“These orders aren’t going to take themselves out.” Janey Eversoll, one of the cooks on the other side of the window, spoke loudly, prompting a censuring look from Helen in Roe and Peyton’s direction.

“Right away.” Grabbing two plates of burgers and fries, Peyton slipped past Roe, suddenly all business.

Roe lifted two plates from the pass-through, each holding a crock of chicken pot pie.

As it was cold and snowy outside, the classic pot pies, with chicken, carrots, peas, potatoes and celery nestled in a golden crust and topped with thick chicken gravy, were extremely popular.

She’d noticed the crocks tended to slide on the plates, so Roe moved slowly as she wove her way across the dining area to the table against the wall.

Two older women, one with a swath of silver in her dark hair and another with hair the color of champagne, sat patiently waiting for their lunch.

The one with the skunk stripe had attempted to engage her in conversation when Roe arrived to take their order. Roe would have loved to stand and talk, but with Helen’s steely-eyed gaze on her, the only information the two had managed to get out of her was that she was Dakota’s friend and would be here through the holidays.

As she traversed the narrow space between tables, her gaze once again found the dark-haired man who’d come in alone but now sat with a young woman with a brilliant smile.

They made an attractive couple, him with his thick dark hair and stylish scruff and her with her blond prettiness.

Roe was almost to the table where the two women sat when a man at a table to her right abruptly stood and, without warning, stepped in front of her.

Stumbling backward, Roe willed herself not to fall, to stay steady and especially not to release the plates in her hands. She nearly succeeded, but then the crock on the left plate began to slide.

The chatter of voices and laughter surrounding her became distant as everything shifted into slow motion.

Watching in horror—and powerless to stop it—she watched the crock slid off the plate, do a one-eighty and drop right into the hunky man’s lap.

Jason Boone had taken a slight detour on his eleven-hundred-mile trek from Denver, Colorado, to Good Hope, Wisconsin. Along the way, he’d stopped to spend Thanksgiving in Dubuque, Iowa, with his sister and her family.

Before that, it had been nearly a year since he’d spent time with Lydia, her husband and his two nieces. They’d begged him to stay with them while he recuperated, but he’d told them he already had plans and was looking forward to spending the holidays in Good Hope.

The truth was, their house was small, and he would be in the way. Not wanting to burden those he loved was why he hadn’t accepted his parents’ invitation to stay with them.

They both had room, and he’d have accepted if they’d still been married. But they’d divorced years ago. Each had a new family and busy life. He’d given them the same excuse he’d given Lydia.

Thankfully, by the time they’d offered, Krew Slattery, Boone’s football coach with the Colorado Grizzlies, had already offered him the use of his cabin in Good Hope through the end of January.

Boone had arrived in the community on the Door County peninsula late this afternoon. Instead of heading straight for the cabin, he’d stopped in town to get something to eat.

Krew had mentioned Muddy Boots numerous times, so Boone decided the café was as good a place as any to grab lunch.

“How long will you be staying?” The blonde across the table from him had big brown eyes and an infectious smile.

They’d exchanged names and basic information when she’d pulled out a chair and sat. She was Evie Eastman. She’d told him she could see he was new in town and wanted to welcome him to Good Hope.

“Would you like to order something?” Boone glanced around for the server, who’d taken his order for a burger and fries moments earlier.

Evie waved a dismissive hand. “I’m fine. I came in to grab a kouign amann since Blooms Bake Shop was out. Unfortunately, they were out here as well. Not that I need one. Those pastries have got to be a gazillion calories each.”

Boone had no idea what a kouign amann was or even looked like, but he wasn’t much for sweets. He’d always tried to eat healthy during football season.

Doesn’t matter now . He’d ordered fries without a flicker of guilt.

“Do you live here year-round?”

“I do.” Instead of elaborating, as he’d hoped, Evie fixed those brown eyes on him. “Where do you live?”

“Denver.” Boone smiled his thanks when a young man, a boy, really, refilled his coffee.

“I like Denver.” Evie leaned forward. “Are you here with your wife or girlfriend?”

Boone took a sip of coffee. He’d still been in the hospital when Celine had moved on to another player with more potential.

Their relationship had been new, so her shifting focus hadn’t hurt—unlike Ella, who, after three years together, had broken it off a year ago. Those women were his past. Boone smiled at the young woman across from him. “No wife or girlfriend. How about you?”

“No wife or girlfriend for me either.” Evie laughed, the bright sound reminding him of the tinkle of a bell.

Something in how she shifted her gaze told him there might be a guy. He hoped the man was good to her. While she seemed nice, he was here to recuperate, not hook up or start a relationship destined to go nowhere.

He hoped to be back in Denver and practicing with the team soon.

“What about a guy?” Boone took another sip of coffee and kept his tone casual. “Unless all the men in this town are blind, there has to be someone…”

A soft pink rode high on Evie’s cheeks. “There is someone I date occasionally. I like him, but Hunter has made it clear he’s not ready to get serious.”

Boone began to nod.

The slight movement had Evie quickly adding, “Neither am I. I like being able to date who I want when I want. I’m only twenty-eight. That’s young. I’m nowhere near ready to be tied down to one man.”

Methinks the lady doth protest too much .

It was Boone’s last coherent thought before a scalding hot something landed in his lap.

Letting out a yelp, he pushed back his chair, and a piece of crockery fell to the floor.

His surgeon had warned him to avoid sudden moves, but this was an unforeseen event. That didn’t lessen the pain.

The dark-haired server swooped in as he stood there, her face filled with apology. “I am so sorry. Here, let me wipe off the gravy.”

She reached forward with a cotton cloth just as Evie jumped to her feet, pushing the server into him. Her fingers jammed into his incision.

If Boone thought the pain from jumping up was terrible, her fingers diving into his stitches fell into the excruciating category. The intense pain had Boone sucking in a breath and pushing both of the women away.

By now, everyone was watching, and he was ten seconds away from losing it.

Pulling two wadded-up bills from his pocket, Boone dropped them on the table.

“I’m so sorry,” the server said again. “What can I do?—?”

Maybe she said more.

Maybe she apologized again.

He didn’t know because, like on the football field, he forced himself to ignore the pain and keep walking, past the curious glances, to the door .

By the time he jerked open his truck door, Boone could think of nothing but reaching the cabin, stripping off his clothes and assessing the damage.

Then he would pop a pain pill, take a shower and pray to God that there was something in the place to eat.

Tears sprang to Roe’s eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She had three older brothers and a father who was a military officer. Signs of weakness, like tears, had not been tolerated in the Carson household.

If there ever was a moment where tears might be justified, this would surely be a top contender. She’d dropped a pot pie, hot from the oven and covered in gravy, onto a man’s lap.

Then she’d somehow hurt him further while trying to wipe it off.

A hand on her shoulder had her jumping.

Roe whirled.

“Help Gregory clean this up.” Helen gestured to the boy scooping up the ceramic shards. “Then take fifteen.”

“But my customers—” Roe protested.

“Peyton and I will split your section while you’re on break.”

Was that a flash of sympathy in Helen’s eyes? Roe hoped that was the case, but she couldn’t be sure. If so, the look had come and gone with the speed of a blink.

Roe opened her mouth to protest again. She’d already messed things up big-time, and the last thing she wanted was to make things more difficult for her coworkers by sitting around feeling sorry for herself while they worked.

“You need to get steady, or you’re no good to anyone.” Helen’s tone brooked no argument.

So, after helping Gregory clean up the mess, Roe headed for the break room. She would sit for fifteen minutes but not one second longer.

Five minutes in, a tall man with hair the color of rich chocolate and kind brown eyes pulled out a chair. Beckett Cross, the owner and the one who had given her the job because Dakota had vouched for her, now sat across the table. Right now, he was very likely regretting his decision to hire her.

“Sounds like your afternoon turned exciting real fast.” His soft Southern accent held a comforting warmth.

Her friend had told her that Beck was originally from Georgia.

Roe expelled a breath. “I’m so sorry. I?—”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“It was. I?—”

“It wasn’t your fault,” he repeated, his gaze steady on hers. “Helen saw it all. A customer got up and stepped right in front of you. Didn’t even look.”

Roe blinked rapidly, wishing she could disappear into the floorboards. “I tried to keep my balance.”

“There was nothing you could have done differently.” Despite his assurance, concern furrowed Beck’s brow. “I would like to speak to the man who was the beneficiary of the wayward pot pie. I fear he may have been burned. I didn’t recognize him, and unfortunately, he left before I could speak with him.”

“What about the woman with him? She would know where you could find him.”

Beck shook his head. “Evie is a local. Seeing that he was a stranger, she stopped at his table to make him feel welcome. All she got before he bolted was that his name is Boone.”

“If he’s not from here, he’s probably staying at one of the hotels in town.”

Beck nodded. “The Bayshore and Sweet Dreams are the most popular. I’ll call them to see if they have anyone named Boone registered. ”

“I’m sorry,” Roe said again. “Once I get off shift, I’d be happy to check other hotels and B&Bs in the area.”

“You let me take care of that. By the way, how do you like the cabin?” Beck’s abrupt subject change told Roe he was finished discussing the pot pie fiasco. “I haven’t seen it myself. Not yet.”

“It’s very nice. I was expecting an actual cabin. While it technically qualifies as one, I’d describe it more as a log home. It’s lovely and huge.”

“Doesn’t surprise me.” Beck’s lips curved. “Krew mentioned he wanted something big enough so that their entire family could be together when he and Cass were in town.”

“I’d say he picked the perfect cabin, then.” Roe managed a smile. “The plan is for the bridal party to stay there the first two weeks in February until Dakota’s wedding on the fourteenth.”

“It’s hard for me to believe Dakota is all grown up.” Beck’s smile turned rueful. “I still think of her as a young girl.”

“She’s a good friend and a wonderful person, but you already know that.”

“I do.” Beck inclined his head. “I don’t believe you told me how you two met.”

Roe suspected Beck was engaging her in conversation so she would steady. The thing was, it was working. The tension that had gripped her since the incident began to recede. “Dakota and I met in Minneapolis. We were both straight out of college.”

“You worked for the same company?”

“We’re not even in the same field.” Roe chuckled. “Dakota secured a position with a firm specializing in crisis PR, while I had a job with a children’s theater.”

Beck’s brows pulled together. “How did you meet up, then?”

“There’s an organization in the Twin Cities called TeamWomen. They bill themselves as ‘a supportive community that empowers women in their professional journeys.’ Dakota and I served on the professional development committee and hit it off. You know Dakota—that woman has never met a stranger. ”

“She’s a good person.” Pushing back his chair, Beck rose. “Don’t let what happened today throw you. From what I’ve seen and from everything Helen has told me, you’re doing an excellent job. We’re happy to have you here.”

Following his lead, Roe stood, feeling surprisingly steady. Helen had been right. These few minutes had given her the confidence to not only return to the dining room, but to pick up a chicken pot pie and take it out.

“You did a good job keeping your cool today.”

Helen’s grudging praise wove through Roe’s mind on autoplay as she drove the two miles to the cabin she now called home.

The rest of her shift had been uneventful, other than remembering once she reached her car, and the couple was long gone, that she’d forgotten to bring them the ketchup they’d requested.

She winced at the memory but knew she’d done her best. Dakota had been right when she’d told her that Muddy Boots got slammed in December.

Slammed meant more tips, and what she’d earned today with four tables had been respectable. Helen would move her to a six-table section once she was confident that Roe could handle the pace.

Roe’s lips lifted in a wry smile. Which, after what had happened today, would probably be never.

Not your fault , she told herself.

There had been pain in the man’s eyes when he’d jumped up, and the knowledge that his pain had been the result of her actions nagged at her.

She had to put it aside. There was nothing she could do for him now. And she’d likely never see him again anyway.