Shirley Jump - How the Playboy Got Serious

Maybe if she could increase sales he’d be able to hire back some help, and afford some time off. Either way, it wasn’t something she could change today.

Stace paused to stretch her back and work out some of the kinks. She bent her neck right, left, then let out a deep breath.

“Tired?” Riley asked.

“Always.” She tried to smile, but even that was too much right now. The day had been long, and had a long way to go yet. Jeremy would be leaving school soon and that meant her second shift as temporary mom to a difficult teenager was about to start. Frank had increased the volume on the radio, and his favorite oldies pulsed in the bright space. She cringed at the memory of Riley catching her in that unguarded moment a couple of days ago.

Riley studied her for so long she finally looked away, pretending that she was inspecting the diner. Why did his mere presence affect her so?

“Why don’t you take a load off?” he said. “I’ll get the rest of this.”

“I really should—”

He jerked out a chair and waved toward the seat. “You really should sit, and let me help you.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re tired.” He took the rag out of her hands, before she could protest. “And because I’m not nearly as bad as you think I am.”

Exhaustion finally won the battle, and Stace dropped into the chair. “Just for a minute.”

Riley grinned. “Take as many minutes as you need.”

In fast, efficient movements, he tackled the rest of the tables. He removed all the salt and pepper shakers, then the sugar dispensers, before wiping them in quick but thorough circles. He’d paid attention to her instructions, clearly. Her respect for him inched upward another notch. Still, the pampered marketing exec didn’t belong here, and she wondered for the hundredth time why he had taken the job.

“Tell me something,” she said.

“What?”

“Why are you here?”

“I work here. Remember?” He flashed that grin at her again. The man smiled a lot, that was for sure. And if she’d been the kind of woman looking for a man who smiled like that, well, she’d be…tempted.

But she wasn’t. Not one bit. Uh-uh.

“I know that. I meant why did you get a job here, as a waiter? Don’t you work at an ad agency or something?”

“I used to. I got…fired. Sort of.”

“How does someone get sort of fired?”

“I worked for my grandmother. She thought it was time I found other employment.” He finished the last table, sent the rag sailing toward the bucket of dirty dishes, and waited for it to land with a satisfying thud before he returned to where Stace was sitting. He spun the opposite chair around and sat, draping his arms over the back. “She gets these ideas sometimes, and this was her latest.”

“Ideas? On what?”

“On what’s good for the McKenna boys.” Riley chuckled and shook his head.

Stace’s curiosity piqued. She told herself she didn’t need to know anything more about this man than whether he would show up tomorrow. She knew his type. Knew better than to fall for a smile and a flirt. But that didn’t stop the questions from spilling out of her mouth. “And what is good for the McKenna boys?”

“Hard work, beautiful women, and a good Irish stout.”

She laughed. “Beer? Your grandmother really said that?”

“I might have added that one.” Another grin. But Riley didn’t expound on much more than that, and she realized even after three days, she knew little about him.

“And you have, what, two out of the three?” she asked.

“Right now, I have none. Unless Frank keeps some good, dark beer back there.”

“No, definitely not.”

“Then I’m batting a thousand.”

“I don’t know about that,” she said. “You got the hard work over the last few days.”

“True.” He leaned forward, his blue eyes zeroing in on her features. “What about you? Why are you working here?”

She looked away. “It’s my job.”

“I know that,” he said, repeating her words from before. “But what I want to know is why. You’re smart and efficient. You could do a hundred things other than waitress.”

She bristled and got to her feet. “We have a floor to clean. I can’t sit around all day.”

“Sorry.” Riley rose, too. “I shouldn’t have probed. I don’t like people poking around in my private life. I shouldn’t do it to you.”

“Remember that, and we might just be able to work together.”

It was her way of warning him off. She didn’t want to get close to him, or to any man, right now. She had her priorities—working hard, saving money, and raising Jeremy—and there was no room in her life for a man like Riley, who’d just drain her heart and leave her empty in the end.

His gaze took in the glistening tables, the stacked chairs. “We did pretty good today.”

“We did. Thanks for the help, and the rest. I needed it.” She tossed him his apron. “I’ll see you at five, playboy. And that’s a.m., not p.m., so don’t have too much of number three tonight.”

“I was here at five this morning.”

“No, you were here at five-fifteen today. Five-thirty yesterday.” She worked another kink out of her neck. “That means I have to pick up the slack.”

“Getting up early isn’t exactly my strong suit.” He made an apologetic face.

“You’ll learn.”

“Learn what?”

She shifted the chair until it was square against the table. “That you can’t have it all, Riley.”

He moved closer. “Speaking from experience?”

She turned away. “Just giving you friendly advice.”

“Are you saying you never go out after work? There’s no special guy who takes you out on the town?”

“I’m saying that I keep my life list in order,” she said, turning back to him. “And my list is definitely different from—” The diner’s door opened and Jeremy burst in the room. She could tell before her nephew even opened his mouth that bad news was coming.

“I’m never going back to that school again,” Jeremy said. “It sucks. My whole life sucks.”

Stace ached to put an arm around her nephew, to hug him, but she could see him already pulling back. The last year had been hard on him and whenever anyone got too close, he backed up. Years ago, her nephew had told her everything, come to her whenever he was upset. But lately…he’d been as distant as a man on the moon. “Jer, whatever happened today will be better tomorrow. I promise.”

Jeremy snorted, then dumped his backpack on the floor. His mane of dark hair hung halfway over his face, obscuring his wide brown eyes from view. “I doubt that. Because I got expelled.”

“Are you serious?” Stace’s breath left her in a whoosh. “How? Why?”

He shrugged. “The stupid principal thought the drawing I hung in the hall was ‘inappropriate.’” He waved air quotes around the word. “Whatever. I told him it was the First Amendment to express my opinion and he could go to—”

“Oh, Jeremy.” Just when she thought things were improving, they took a serious detour toward Getting Worse.

Riley clapped Stace on the back. “Don’t worry, Stace. I got expelled three times. And I turned out okay.”

Jeremy’s face perked up. “Really? What’d you do?”

“Do not talk to him,” Stace said to Riley. “Not one word.” She crossed to her nephew and stood between the two of them like a human shield for bad advice. But she was too late. Jeremy scooted around her and strode up to Riley, beaming up at the playboy like he was seeing a personal hero.

Stace had prayed for another male influence to come into Jeremy’s life. Someone who could speak to him on his level, maybe even take him to the amusement park or play football or any of the things that Frank didn’t have the time or the energy to do.