Grabbing Hold (The Motorcycle Kid #1)

36. Damage Control

Emma struggled to balance the trayful of empty dishes in one hand as her phone vibrated against her butt. Sighing heavily, she pulled it out, almost dropping the tray in the process. She dodged a pair of tourists as they passed; it was rush hour in the middle of summer here at Beans n' Stuff, and Emma swore her head would explode if she heard the words "how much is your tip?" or "what's in this smoothie?" one more time.

"Problem, Emma?" asked Denise, who'd recently recovered from her bout of illness, with a raised eyebrow.

"No, no, I've got it, I've got it," the girl insisted, trying to see who could've chosen the absolute worst possible time to call her.

Emma rolled her eyes as she saw Derek Daniel flash across the screen. She'd changed his contact name from Daddy-O in a fit of spite two days ago, and she had no plans to change it back.

Quickly, she ended the call, returning to her duties, and just as quickly, the phone buzzed again.

"Dad, now's not a real good time," she spoke into the mouthpiece, her phone squeezed between her ear and her shoulder as she headed towards the kitchen, dirty dishes in hand.

"Where are you?"

"I'm at work, Dad, where else would I be?"

"Can you spare a minute?"

"No, I can't. It's really busy."

"Look, can we talk later, then? We really need to talk."

"Dad, there's nothing to talk about," said Emma tiredly. Her eyes crossed the crowded café, just catching Matt mouthing help me as he dealt with one particularly angry old man.

"I really have to go."

"Call me when you get a chance, Em, okay? Or I'll call you after work. What time do you get off-"

"Dad," Emma interrupted him firmly. "Listen to me. I will call you later, okay? Now I'm gonna go before I get fired by my own mother. I'll call you."

She hung up the phone before her father could respond and immediately returned to her work, switching the empty tray for one full of orders waiting to be delivered. She pulled the order sheet from her apron pocket and proceeded to drop each plate and glass off according to table number.

Emma was midway through serving when she felt herself being bumped into by a familiar male frame.

"So he lives," she said sarcastically as Ryder followed her towards the next table. He let out a weighty laugh, very unlike his last appearance, and still a tad bit too cheerful for Emma's taste.

"Ah," he greeted her glumly. "¿Qué pasa? Who took your sunshine?"

"Ryder, now is not the time, okay? I'm trying to work."

"Yeah, well join the club," he muttered. Emma paused to look at him.

"Join the club?" she repeated in a question. "Am I missing something?"

Ryder let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his dark hair.

"Today's my first day back," he said, waiting to gauge her response. He was more than a little disappointed when he saw little more than an eyebrow twitch out of the corner of his eye.

"I didn't know you got your job back," replied Emma casually as he followed her back to the counter. "When did that happen? Matt! I need tables four through eight!"

"Coming!" Matt yelled from the kitchen area. Emma turned her attention back to the young man standing beside her. "Right. When did that happen?"

"Two days ago, actually. Charlotte - your mom, I mean- she came by the house. Said she wanted to talk to me. Apparently she'd called like three times, but I..."