Kissing Cousins Page 4

  Poppy heard Bobby say, “You got it.”

  In the next moment, Swaggart left the kitchen and was standing with Whitney and Poppy by the beverage fountain.

  “Tell her I’ll be right there, Whitney,” he said.

  “She’s a real wench, Swag. I don’t envy you,” Whitney said as she left.

  Swaggart put his fists on his hips and looked at Poppy. “So tell me what went on.”

  “Nothing!” Poppy exclaimed. “I didn’t do anything! I was totally polite…even when she got irritated because I called her ‘ma’am’ and told me I was supposed to call her ‘Miss Reginald.’ I was so polite, Swaggart,” Poppy babbled. “I didn’t even give the guy the time of day until I had spoken to her first. I swear! I didn’t do anything!”

  “Sure you did, Poppy-seed,” Swaggart said.

  Poppy frowned. How could he think she had been anything but polite?

  “You took the guy’s attention away from her.”

  “But I didn’t,” Poppy said.

  Swaggart chuckled and placed a hand on Poppy’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll go take care of it.”

  “She’ll want you to fire me,” Poppy said.

  “Then I guess I’ll have to fire you,” he said.

  “Really?” Poppy gasped.

  “Of course not,” Swaggart chuckled. “And here,” he said reaching into his back pocket and retrieving his wallet. He withdrew a ten dollar bill and held it out toward her. “There’s your ten bucks. I’m always good for a bet.”

  “Just don’t fire me, and we’ll call it even,” Poppy said.

  Swaggart smiled and tucked the money into the front pocket of her jeans. Poppy smiled, delighted by the gesture.

  “Stay here. And don’t worry,” he said. He winked at her—causing her heart to flutter and her stomach to loop-the-loop—and headed for the front of the restaurant.

  Carefully, Poppy crept to one side of the restaurant. A large statue of Elvis stood in one corner, close enough that she could hear the conversation at the hostess podium and yet big enough to conceal her.

  She watched, heart hammering with anxiety, as Swaggart walked to the podium.

  “How may I help you, ma’am?” Swaggart asked Miss Reginald.

  Poppy smiled as the expression on Miss Reginald’s face turned to utter awe upon seeing Swaggart.

  “Oh,” Miss Susan Reginald said as she studied Swaggart from head to toe. “Are…are you the manager here?”

  “Manager, cook, waiter…whatever I need to be at the moment,” Swaggart said.

  “Oh…I-I see,” Miss Reginald stammered. “Well…well I need to voice a complaint,” she said.

  “Mmm hmmm,” Swaggart mumbled folding his muscular arms across his massive chest. “About my cooking, or about something else?” he asked.

  Poppy giggled. Miss Susan Reginald was completely undone! Swaggart Moretti stood six foot three inches, was built like a Greek god, and was more handsome than any dark-haired, square-jawed movie star.

  “W-well, about the service here, actually,” Miss Reginald stammered.

  “Mmm hmmm,” Swaggart mumbled, nodding.

  “I was here last…last evening…with a male companion…and one of your waitresses was so silly and ridiculous over him. Well, I can’t tell you how embarrassing it was. She was completely incompetent in her duties and practically threw herself into my date’s lap!”

  “What?” Poppy gasped from her hiding place behind Elvis. She felt her face burning crimson with angered indignation. The woman was a liar, as well as a wench!

  “Who was it that waited on you, ma’am?” Swaggart asked.

  “Poppy,” the woman nearly spat.

  “Are you sure?” Swaggart asked.

  “How could I forget? Some ridiculous song came on, and the entire restaurant was singing to her,” the woman said. “Besides, believe me, I would not forget such a goofy name.”

  “Hmmm,” Swaggart said. His brow wrinkled in a frown, and he put a fist to his mouth as if he were thinking very hard. “I find that very surprising because Poppy is our best waitress. In the two years she’s worked here, more customers have offered her their high regard than any other waiter or waitress here.”

  “I find that very surprising, considering my experience last night,” Miss Reginald said.

  “Well, how was your meal?” Swaggart asked then. “Was that to your satisfaction?”

  “Oh, the meal was excellent!” Miss Reginald said. “That’s what made the experience with your waitress so unfortunate—because the food was fabulous.”

  Swaggart drew a deep inhale as he withdrew a piece of paper from his apron pocket. Holding it between his index and middle fingers he held the paper out to Miss Reginald.

  “Hmmm. Interesting,” he said. “Because I believe I received this from you last night.”

  Miss Reginald cleared her throat and took the paper from Swaggart.

  “Well, I was…I was very upset about the service,” she stammered. “I suppose I was just upset about that and felt it tainted the meal as well.”

  Swaggart nodded and folded his arms across his chest once more. “I see,” he said. “Well, what is it you would like to see done about this?”

  Miss Reginald smiled, eyebrows arched in arrogance. “I’d like to see the waitress in question fired. She cost me a great deal beyond a bad dining experience. The man I was with was an agent from a well-known advertising firm, and your waitress was so unreasonably inept and distracting that he has refused to take on my account.”

  “I see,” Swaggart said.

  Poppy was sure her heart would pound its way right out of her chest! Swaggart had said he wouldn’t fire her, but Poppy’s worry and anxiety told her differently. It was obvious this woman was a liar, but business was business, and Good Ol’ Days didn’t need any bad publicity.

  “Well, I’ll tell you what,” Swaggart began.

  “Yes?” Miss Reginald asked, smiling at him.

  “There’s the door,” he said then, pointing to the restaurant’s front door. “I’d like to see you leave through it.”

  “What?” Miss Susan Reginald exclaimed. “Do you mean to tell me you’re not going to take any action in this matter?”

  “I am taking action, lady!” Swaggart growled. “You waltz in here wanting me to fire my best waitress because you’re ticked off that the guy you were with would rather have taken her home than you? I’m wise to you, lady, and you can just hurry your arrogant a—a—attitude out of my restaurant!”

  Miss Susan Reginald’s mouth dropped in astonishment.

  “You’re just ticked off because I criticized your cooking,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind one ear as she struggled to regain her composure.

  “Sister, if anyone gave an ounce of credibility to every idiot who criticized my cooking, I wouldn’t be pulling in a hundred dollars a plate for doing the LaForge Industries VP luncheon this Tuesday,” Swaggart said through clinched teeth. “Do you need me to call you a taxi…again?” he asked.

  He was angry. Poppy had seen him angry before and wished never to be on the receiving end of his anger. If Miss Susan Reginald knew what was good for her, she’d leave as fast as the pencil-thin heels on her black pumps could carry her.

  “What? Have you got a thing for her too?” Miss Reginald asked, defiantly putting one hand on one hip.

  “Everybody’s got a thing for her, including your little advertising executive. Isn’t that right?” Swaggart said. “Now get out of my restaurant,” he added opening the door for her. At Swaggart’s command, several customers sitting close enough to have heard the exchange began to applaud.

  “Well. I can assure you that I will never step foot in this roach-infested shack again,” Miss Susan Reginald said as she turned and quickly left Good Ol’ Days.

  Again the customers applauded and Swaggart shook his head. “Can you believe that woman’s sh—shmeeha?”

  Again there was applause, and as Ella Fitzgerald began
singing “Dream A Little Dream,” Swaggart shook his head once more and started back toward the kitchen.

  “Poppy! Come here,” he growled as he went.

  Poppy bit her lip and tried to keep the tears from escaping her eyes. Dealing with rotten customers was just about the worst thing that could happen to anybody, and she felt terrible for being the cause of Swaggart’s having to go to bat for her.

  Leaving the protection of the Elvis statue, Poppy paused in front of Whitney on her way to the kitchen.

  “No wonder Miss Reginald is still a ‘Miss,’” Whitney said.

  “Yeah,” Poppy said, still horrified at what had happened.

  Lowering her voice, Whitney asked, “And do you really think Swag pulls in that much for just one moonlighting chef gig?”

  “I-I don’t know, Whit,” Poppy said, shaking her head. She had to face Swaggart—she didn’t care how much he made when he was moonlighting.

  “What’s wrong, Poppy?” Whitney asked. “Swag took care of it. You still look upset.”

  “She was a total nightmare to him, Whit,” Poppy reminded her.

  Whitney smiled. “He handled it fine. Now go on back there. I’m sure he’s got one of his empathetic pep-talks ready.”

  Poppy nodded and headed for the kitchen area. When she arrived, it was to find Swaggart leaning one shoulder against the wall in the alcove near the back door.

  “She was a real piece of work, wasn’t she?” he asked.

  Poppy felt the tears brimming in her eyes and knew she would lose the battle with them. As the first tear trickled over her cheek, she brushed at it, frustrated she had failed in holding it back.

  “I’m sorry, Swaggart,” she mumbled. “You shouldn’t have had to—”

  “What are you sorry for?” he interrupted, “That some witch intruded on our happy little restaurant home?” He chuckled and added, “It happens, Poppy, and it’s not your fault.”

  “But she was so rude to you and…and…” Poppy began, wiping an escaped tear from the other cheek.

  “I’m sure she was much ruder to you last night,” Swaggart said.

  She heard him chuckle then and gasped as he reached out and pulled her against him, wrapping her in his arms.

  For a brief moment, Poppy couldn’t breathe! When she could, the feel of his white t-shirt against her cheek, the solid contours of his muscular chest beneath—it was fabulous! The scent of steak and bacon, of butter and herbs clung to him, and she thought it the most wonderful combination of scents she had ever inhaled! His arms were around her too—tight around her, and she loved the deep sound of his chuckle as it began in his chest.

  “Don’t let her get to you, baby,” he said. “That’s what she wanted.”

  Poppy seriously thought she might faint! She knew his calling her “baby” was just his way of comforting her—knew he was simply trying to calm her down and reassure her. Still, for the sake of the past she’d never experienced with him, she imagined he meant it to be more endearing than it actually was.

  “Shake it off,” he said, and every inch of her flesh erupted with goose bumps as one of his strong hands stroked her hair. “I gotta get back to the kitchen before Bobby sets the place on—”

  “Well, isn’t this a tender scene?”

  Poppy instantly stiffened at the sound of Jennifer’s voice and endeavored to push herself from Swaggart’s embrace. He seemed less unsettled, however, pausing before releasing her.

  “Hey, Jen,” he said.

  “What’s all this about?” Jennifer asked. Poppy dared to look up at her and immediately wished she hadn’t. Jennifer’s beautiful blue eyes were blazing with anger. She stood with her arms folded across her bosom, tapping one foot.

  “Poppy had a bad customer last night, and the witch showed up here a few minutes ago,” Swaggart explained. “You okay?” he asked Poppy.

  “Y-yeah,” Poppy stammered.

  “Are you sure you’re okay, Poppy?” Jennifer asked. The sarcasm in her tone of voice was as thick as tar. “Or do you need a little more—what was that—reassurance you were giving her, Swaggart?”

  Poppy felt ill—literally sick! She felt more foolish than ever as well and stammered, “I’m sorry, Jennifer. He was only—”

  “You don’t have to apologize to her, Poppy,” Swaggart interrupted. “You didn’t do anything to apologize for.”

  “Sure she does!” Jennifer exclaimed, instantly furious. “I walk in here to meet you for lunch and find you groping your little waitress! She better start apologizing, and she better start staying away from you from now on!” Jennifer turned her attention to Poppy then. “You hear me, girl?”

  “If I was groping, then why does she owe you an apology?” Swaggart growled.

  “Swaggart, I-I—” Poppy began.

  “Don’t you talk to him!” Jennifer exclaimed. “You’ve got no right to talk to him!”

  Poppy held her breath as Jennifer took a step toward her. Stepping between her and Jennifer, Swaggart said, “It’s been a rough day, Poppy. Why don’t you just be a runner for Bobby for awhile? Brittany can handle the tables for now.”

  “Okay,” she said, wiping more tears from her cheeks. She looked up into his handsome face and tried to smile when he winked at her.

  “Okay,” he said. He turned back to Jennifer then and asked, “What’s up with this, Jen?”

  Poppy quickly left them to their argument, feeling all the more guilty for getting Swaggart in trouble with his girlfriend. Yet a moment later, she quietly admitted to herself she hoped the incident caused them to break up. Jennifer was nearly as much a wench as Miss Susan Reginald. Swaggart deserved better.

  “It’s really going to hit the fan now,” Bobby said as Poppy tied her apron at her back.

  “Do you think so?” Poppy asked, though she already sensed he was right.

  “Are you kidding? Jennifer won’t put up with Swaggart even looking at another female, let alone being nice to one,” Bobby said.

  Poppy frowned as she looked at Bobby. He was a good-looking young man, and for a moment Poppy wondered how Mr. Dexter managed to have such good-looking grandchildren all the way around. Whitney was beautiful, and Bobby was handsome. Swaggart was absolutely gorgeous! The gene pool had been kind to Mr. Dexter’s family.

  “Boy!” Poppy sighed. “I guess I’ve given Swaggart enough trouble for one day, huh?”

  “None of it’s your fault, Poppy,” Bobby said, placing two plates heaping with food on the order counter. “Now, run these burgers to table five for me, will you? The one with the fries goes to the guy.”

  Poppy wiped the last tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand and nodded. “You got it,” she said. She picked up the two plates and headed for the tables.

  “So you’re saying every girl in this restaurant wants me, huh?” Poppy heard Swaggart say as she passed the small alcove where he and Jennifer were continuing their argument. “Does that automatically mean I want every girl in this restaurant, Jen? Whitney’s my cousin, for crying out loud!”

  Swaggart was angry, and it was no wonder. Having just dealt with Miss Susan Reginald, he now found himself under attack by his girlfriend.

  Poppy’s guilt was thicker than mud, but she knew she didn’t dare try to explain it to Jennifer herself.

  “Here you are,” Poppy said as she set the burger and fries on the table in front of the man and the burger with onion rings in front of his female companion. “Is there anything else I can get for you?”

  “No, thank you,” the man said. He smiled at Poppy, but she felt no better. She had suddenly become very paranoid and looked to the woman to see if she was irritated. She was relieved when the woman kindly smiled and nodded at her.

  Heading back toward the kitchen, she passed the alcove once more and heard Jennifer say, “Every time I come here, Poppy’s stalking you like some stupid lovesick puppy.”

  “You’re way out of line, Jen,” Swaggart said.

  “I know I just got here, Bobby,” P
oppy said. “But do you mind if I take a really quick break?”

  Bobby smiled with understanding and said, “Sure, Poppy. Get some air. It’s a little too close in here today. You know what I mean?”

  “Thanks,” Poppy said. There would be no going out the back door of the restaurant. Swaggart was still receiving a tongue-lashing from Jennifer in the alcove. So Poppy quickly exited Good Ol’ Days by way of one of the side exit doors.

  The moment she was outside, she leaned back against the outer wall of the restaurant and inhaled a deep breath. She closed her eyes as more tears escaped them. What a terrible way to start a work shift! Miss Susan Reginald’s lies and Swaggart having to volley them—Jennifer’s jealousy and Swaggart having to volley it. What else could she do to make his day miserable?

  “Bad day?” Mr. Dexter asked.

  Poppy gasped and opened her eyes to see Mr. Dexter sitting at one end of the patio tables watching her.

  “Kind of,” she said.

  Mr. Dexter smiled and winked at her, and Poppy instantly felt somewhat comforted.

  “Come and tell me about it,” Mr. Dexter said, gesturing with one hand that she should join him at his table.

  Tentatively, Poppy joined him, studying him for a moment as she sat down. The sight of his half-moon-shaped smiling eyes, silvery-white hair, and understanding grin soothed her.

  “What’s all this about?” he asked.

  Poppy shrugged and said, “I had a rotten customer last night. She showed up to complain today, and Swaggart had to deal with her.” She sighed, exhaling the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been sort of holding.

  “And then?” Mr. Dexter prodded.

  “And then…and then I was talking to Swaggart about it in the alcove, and Jennifer showed up, and now she’s all mad at him, and…and it’s just been a terrible day,” Poppy said.

  “Well, rotten customers are a part of life, I’m afraid,” Mr. Dexter said. “Don’t you let it upset you one more minute. And as far as Jennifer…well, personally I hope Swaggart finally gets irritated enough with her to dump her flat on her fanny.”

  Poppy giggled as she looked at the elderly man. “What?”