Chute Yeah Read online

  “Uhh.” I paused, trying to shake some sense into myself. “Sorry. Yeah. Dad has some nerve issues with his hands. They’re going to be doing surgery next week to fix the problem. In the meantime, meet your new contractor.” I pointed to myself with my thumbs.

  He grinned. “Nice. Much better looking than the last.”

  I rolled my eyes and tried not to act like Banks Valentine’s grin wasn’t the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen in my life.

  “We’ll see,” I teased. “You haven’t seen me in my hard hat, though.”

  Banks held open the door for me and stayed close to my backside, not touching but definitely not shying away, either.

  “If I saw you in your hard hat,” he said. “I…”

  He was interrupted in what he was going to say by the chatty hostess who smiled and beamed at him.

  “Valentine party?” she chirped. “Follow me, sir.”

  I would’ve followed as well since Amity said that we were close to each other’s table, but before I could do as I’d intended, a large bus boy pushing a dirty dish cart crossed between me and Banks.

  By the time that I could pass, I had no clue which direction they’d gone.

  And, since there were four corners and three dining areas on top of that, I didn’t want to wander around looking like an idiot, so I waited for her to return. Which took her a good ten minutes.

  “Oh, sorry,” she lied. “We’re busy today.”

  I refrained from calling bullshit and smiled at her. “I’m seated next to the Valentines. I’m with Amity and Mack Culpepper.”

  The woman scowled. “You could’ve kept up.”

  My brows rose. “I tried. I was cut off by a busboy who was pushing a stack of dishes a mile high. Excuse me.”

  The woman looked put out as she led me to my table, and when she finally led me to the area where Amity and Mack were waiting, she looked like she’d rather tell me off than place me at the table.

  My brows rose at her when she crossed her arms as if she was waiting to say something.

  “I don’t like you.”

  I blinked, surprised.

  “You don’t?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “No. I don’t.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Because people like you are always looking down on people like me,” she snapped. “So beautiful. Long, silky hair that cost a grand to make happen. Clothes that cost more than my car. A dismissive attitude that really hurts.”

  That was when I realized that she was saying all of this stuff in the middle of a crowded dinner crowd.

  When had I ever…

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m not sure what I did to you, but I’m sorry. I literally never come here because I can’t afford it. My clothes came from the Goodwill and my shoes came from a consignment shop. My hair hasn’t been cut since last year. And I didn’t mean not to follow you back here. I’m sorry for inconveniencing you.”

  The woman sniffed. “If I had my choice, liars like you wouldn’t be allowed here.”

  “But you’re not the owner,” came a silky smooth, deep timber of a voice. “And you need to leave before I go find the owner and talk to her about how you’re being rude to guests.”

  I looked over to find not Banks, but Ace Valentine, standing up and narrowing his eyes in the woman’s direction.

  Oh shit, he looked pissed.

  The woman blanched.

  “Sorry,” she said. “Sorry.”

  Then she was gone just as quickly as she’d arrived.

  I flushed bright red when everyone’s attention stayed on me.

  “What the hell was that?” Mack asked, voice rising.

  Desi, who was partially shielded by Callum’s big body, held her hand up with chagrin written all over her face. “That would be my fault. I’m so sorry, Candy.”

  I looked over at my business partner.

  “What?” I asked. “How?”

  She smiled sheepishly.

  “That woman came into the shop and I might or might not have told her to go fuck herself when she complained about the long wait.” She shrugged. “You and Banks were in the back talking and she’d been out there waiting for a while.”

  I winced.

  “Now that you mention it, I left her at the counter when I had to run into the back. She was talking on the phone and I had to go grab something to eat. My blood sugar was dropping.” I sighed. “Shit.”

  “Would y’all like to join our table for dinner?” Ace asked solicitously.

  It would be rude to say no, but I couldn’t help but look over at Amity for her reaction.

  She looked like she’d rather pull all of her eyelashes out than do it. But she swallowed hard and nodded her head. “Sure, we’d love to.”

  Amity looked like she’d rather carve out her eyes with her butter knife, but Mack wrapped his arm around her and whispered into her ear, making her laugh.

  Banks and Callum got up and scooted our table to theirs, and then remained standing until I was sitting in the only open spot available. The one directly across from Banks.

  Yay.

  When Banks, Callum and Ace regained their seat, Banks looked over at his brother who hadn’t stood and said, “You’re supposed to stand when a lady is standing.”

  Darby rolled his eyes. “This is the twenty-first century. Women can and want to be the same as men.”

  “Well,” Callum said. “In this household, we stand when they stand. We hold doors, and open doors for them as well. And they sure don’t pay for their own fuckin’ dinner.”

  That last comment was aimed at Desi, who was busy rolling her eyes. “You’re annoying.”

  “You’re annoying,” he countered right back. “We’re married. Married women don’t have separate accounts, either. They have joint accounts.”

  “My account is a whole lot less padded than yours, and I don’t want to accidentally overdraft your account,” she explained.

  “If you wanted to pay, then you might as well have stayed home and cooked.” Darby muttered.

  He had a point there.

  On the weekdays, Desi cooked breakfast for the Valentine cowboys and clan. She worked her ass off there, then came to work and worked her ass off as well only to turn around and do it all over again for dinner. The woman could use a break.

  “That’s true, Des,” I pointed out. “You were just telling me today how exhausted you were.”

  Desi shot an unamused look my way. “Hey, traitor! I told you that in confidence!”

  My lips twitched. “You also told me that you weren’t going to tell anybody about our dinner plans tonight…yet you showed up here with your Valentine boys in tow.”

  Codie, Ace’s wife and Desi’s best friend, started to laugh.

  “She’s got you there, Desidara,” Codie teased. “You were the one who convinced us to come here.”

  Desi’s cheeks heated.

  “So therefore, you should let me pay for dinner,” Callum said as he placed his napkin back into his lap. “Do you think they serve steak here? I’m starving.”

  “Why don’t you look at your menu, moron?” Banks suggested.

  My eyes went to the man I’d been avoiding, and I couldn’t help but stare.

  He was in a black cowboy hat—much cleaner than the usual dusty brown one he wore—a pair of starched and pressed denim jeans, and a black long-sleeved button-up shirt. He looked absolutely divine, and I wanted to take a picture so I could capture the perfection for eternity.

  But just as I was surreptitiously slipping my phone out of my pocket and aiming it in his direction, he suddenly looked my way.

  His brows rose when he caught my phone out.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Uhh,” I said. “Taking a selfie.”

  His brows rose, and I quickly switched it to the front view camera and turned it around for him to inspect.

  “Liar,
” I heard Darby say from beside me.

  I shrugged and picked up my menu as I placed my phone down onto the table next to my bread plate.

  “Whatever,” I said. “What are you getting?”

  Darby shrugged and went back to his menu.

  I looked over at Amity to see her dreamily leaning into Mack, who wrapped his arm around her and tugged her into his side tight.

  I felt something inside my chest settle at seeing her doing okay with all the people that had joined our table.

  When I finally allowed my eyes to come off of them, I found myself staring straight at Banks who didn’t try to conceal the fact that he was staring at me.

  “What are you getting?” Darby asked, breaking our eye contact.

  I quickly picked up my menu.

  “Ummm,” I hesitated. “A salad.”

  He scoffed, making me laugh.

  “Salads are for losers,” he said.

  I shrugged. “I like their salad here. Plus, I’m also ordering dessert.”

  “Oh, God,” Darby moaned. “You’re a loser like Banks!”

  My brows rose as I looked at him, then looked at Banks.

  “What?” I asked, sounding just as confused as I felt.

  “Banks orders dessert first. And when everyone else orders dessert, he sometimes orders food,” Ace said, entering the conversation.

  My lips curved into a small smile as I said, “Do you want to share that big one?”

  I pointed to the display in the middle of the table which was the restaurant’s biggest hit.

  But, the problem was, it was made for like five people, and I couldn’t eat the damn thing by myself.

  Banks’ eyes flipped to where I was pointing, then back up at me.

  Then he shrugged. “I could eat that.”

  The dessert display was a sample platter. Except it wasn’t a ‘sample size’ as much as just a normal size portion of the actual dessert.

  It had fried cheesecake bites, a quarter of a triple layer chocolate cake. Chocolate mousse. Homemade vanilla ice cream. Dessert pizza made of cookie dough and Nutella. Chocolate-covered strawberries. And three different pieces of pie—our choice of which, of course.

  Honestly, it was probably over three thousand calories, but I was so excited to try it I couldn’t sit still in my seat.

  “Jesus Christ,” Darby said. “Y’all are going to be in a food baby coma when y’all are done eating that.”

  “Good thing you’re sitting across from each other,” Amity said softly, bringing all eyes her way. “It was like fate.”

  Banks lips twitched.

  “I guess so,” he rumbled.

  The waitress finally arrived, and I was surprised to see her sit down a beer in front of me.

  “I didn’t order a…”

  “I ordered it for you,” Mack said. “You’re not driving home, remember? I am?”

  I frowned. “But I drove. I can’t leave my car here overnight. I have to be at the Valentine place early tomorrow to meet a few contractors with their checks and check out the job site. I also have to be at the coffee shop a little after eight to help with the morning rush.”

  “I’ll get your car home,” Banks offered.

  And before I could argue, Mack clapped his hands. “Perfect.”

  I sighed, knowing that I wouldn’t win this one.

  “Your dad can’t make it?” Darby asked as he took a sip of his beer.

  I shook my head as I said, “He has a meeting with his doctor to discuss his hands. He is considering doing alternative measures.”

  Darby winced. “That sucks.”

  It did.

  I took a sip of my beer as I thought about what that meant for my dad.

  “If he can’t write or type on the computer, he might have to close down his business.” I paused. “Unless I help him.”

  “You can’t?” Codie, Ace’s woman, asked.

  I paused.

  “I can,” I admitted. “It just means that I would have to take on less responsibility at the coffee shop. And that means that I let Desi down.”

  “Or y’all could hire someone to help,” Callum suggested as he took a sip of his own beer. “You never thought that it would go as big as it did. I don’t think either one of you expected to work as many hours as you have been, either. I think I remember that y’all discussed only having it open until about four pm, but now y’all are leaving it open until the customers leave, which sometimes is around eight. And Desi was up there making more pastries today because y’all ran out.”

  I nodded. “I can’t really kick them out, though.”

  “You could put in outside seating so that they don’t have to leave, but they also don’t stay inside,” Banks suggested. “And you could also close when you no longer have food to sell.”

  That was true.

  “Yes,” I said. “But there are some customers that can’t get there that early and still want coffee. Being open later gives them the option to get there.”

  “Yeah,” Banks agreed. “Or you could open up an online store. Your sales are equally divided between bulk coffee and actual cups of coffee. That way they can order it and not add to the body count at the retail location.”

  I sighed.

  Did he have an answer to everything?

  “Sometimes we sell out by twelve,” Desi said. “What then?”

  “Then you can either sell coffee without the pastries, or you can close at twelve,” Banks said.

  He had a point.

  Coffee didn’t sell all that well after about mid-morning, I’d noticed. Was there a point in keeping it open when the pastries were the only thing that would sell after that point?

  “Or,” Banks continued. “You could keep it open from six until ten. Customers could still sit on the patio and enjoy their coffee even between your closed hours. Then open it back up from six in the evening to ten. Or four to eight. Whatever. That gives you eight hours a day, just like you’re already doing. And two time windows. And, you can have someone that comes in just to close. If there happens to be pastries, good. If there isn’t, oh well.”

  That was actually a very good suggestion.

  “The in-between hours would give you a lot of hours of uninterrupted time to get your cakes done on a special order basis only,” I said to Desi. “And that also gives the high schoolers and college-age kids time to get out of school and come by. Also, that means Kasey could close.”

  Darby choked, and I looked at him in surprise.

  “You don’t like Kasey?” I teased.

  Darby and Kasey did not get along.

  Not at all.

  I didn’t know why, because neither one of them were willing to tell me—even when I asked—but eventually I’d figure it out.

  For now, I’d just make up worst-case scenarios in my head.

  “No,” Darby said, finality in his tone.

  “I sense a story,” Mack murmured, his eyes going from between me and Darby.

  “Speaking of story,” Amity said, surprising the shit out of me that she would be willing to draw attention to herself. “Did you hear that Mack might be winning a prize with his bull riding piece on Banks?”

  My mouth fell open and I looked at Mack.

  “And you didn’t tell me?” I gasped.

  Mack shrugged. “I don’t know if I won yet or not.”

  “The rodeo circuit I’m on ran it,” Banks said. “I showed them the piece. Made them look good, so they were all for it.”

  “Why’d you show them the piece?” I wondered.

  “Because I wanted to.” He shrugged.

  “Because it said something about you,” Ace corrected him. “It said, and I quote, ‘even the most diehard of non-fans enjoyed themselves. From the young to the old, and even the most cynical, will enjoy their time as long as Banks Valentine is there.’” Ace paused. “Or something like that.” His eyes came to me. “Your photo was in the paper
as well. You can see your hands covering your face.”

  I grimaced and looked at Mack accusingly.

  “You took a picture of me and put me in the paper?” I gasped. “Isn’t that against the rules?”

  “You’ve signed like a hundred thousand photo releases in your time,” he shrugged. “Why would I think this one would be any different?”

  Because Banks Valentine is my kryptonite, went unsaid.

  After placing our orders with the waitress, I tried not to allow my gaze to stay on just Banks.

  I smiled at everyone, made small talk, but all the while I was hyper aware of who was sitting directly across from me.

  I also learned that Banks didn’t talk much. His family did all the talking for him.

  Even when the topic was directly related to Banks, he still didn’t talk.

  Like when and where his next rodeo was, and which bull he hoped to ride.

  “Banks wants to ride any bull but Scooby.” Codie laughed. “Scooby and him are too friendly.”

  My brows rose in confusion.

  “Banks feeds him treats when nobody is looking,” Codie explained. “Or, at least, he thinks nobody is looking.”

  My lips twitched into a small smile.

  “I do not.” Banks disagreed.

  But before he could go into more detail, everyone’s plates were passed out by a passing waiter.

  Everyone but Banks and my meal.

  “Umm,” Banks stopped the waiter. “You’re missing the dessert.”

  He looked confused. “You don’t want that at the end of the meal?”

  Banks shook his head. “No, we want it now. Which is what I told the waitress when I ordered.”

  The waiter nodded his head, even if he looked at us like we were both super weird, and hurried off toward the kitchen door.

  “Why is it that they always screw that up?” I wondered aloud.

  “Because it’s not normal to order dessert with the meal,” he murmured. “And they think they have it right in their head, and that’s the only way that it works. According to them.”

  I picked up my drink and swallowed a hefty gulp before saying, “Okay.”

  He winked, and my heart started to hammer.

  And when our food finally did arrive—almost ten minutes after everyone else’s—I tried really hard not to stare at the man as I tried each decadent piece of food there was to try.