Pitch Perfect: A Cricket Creek Novel Page 2

  When Mia stopped for a red light, she watched people meander down the sidewalk and wander in and out of the shops. The town had a warm, welcoming feel to it and the chatter of shoppers sounded cheerful. Mia was used to the hustle and bustle of Chicago, and while she loved the energy of a big city, this slower pace had an instant calming effect on her frazzled nerves. She inhaled deeply and the sweet scent of spring filled her head, making her sigh with pleasure.

  Laughter brought Mia’s attention to her open window and she smiled softly when she spotted children playing in the city park. Young mothers watched over the frolic and fun, bringing a pang of sadness to Mia’s chest. When her father’s first business had failed, Mia’s mother left Mitch Monroe for a man with more wealth. Heartbroken, he had sued for full custody of Mia and had won, but his obsession with financial success kept him from spending much time with his two-year-old daughter, and thus had begun Mia’s long string of au pairs. But just when she would become emotionally bonded to her caregiver, the au pair would move on, leaving Mia feeling sad and making it much safer to find happiness with material things rather than people.

  As an adult and no stranger to therapy, Mia realized that her father’s intense drive to succeed was a direct result of his wife’s desertion, but that didn’t change the fact that Mia had been a lonely little girl longing for her father’s attention and her mother’s acceptance.

  Oh, Mia had visited her mother but had always felt like an outsider in her mother’s new life. Over the years her visits had become few and far between, and sadly she believed that her mother had been mostly relieved.

  A honking horn startled Mia out of her musing. “Oh, just hush!” she grumbled as she eased the car forward, but her mood lightened when she spotted Wine and Diner on the corner. The brick building with the cute red awning looked inviting, but it was the aroma of grilled food wafting through her open window that had her hurrying to locate a spot in the parking lot. “Well!” Mia had to circle twice before sliding into a vacant space, an indication that Wine and Diner was a popular place to eat. “Finally!”

  After she turned the key, the engine coughed and sputtered as if in distress or perhaps relief. “Oh, please start when I get finished eating,” Mia pleaded and gave the dash a quick pat. The door opened with a tired-sounding squeak and she gently closed it before hurrying toward the entrance of the restaurant.

  When Mia entered Wine and Diner she wasn’t surprised to find a line of patrons waiting to be seated. Her mouth watered in anticipation of a good hot meal when the aroma of food wafted her way, and she barely suppressed a sigh. Mia looked at the name tag on the hostess’s black shirt. “Hello, Bella. How long of a wait?” she asked with a big smile but with a hint that she was in a hurry and might leave, even though it was far from the truth. Mia had learned from her father to always use a name and to try to remember it.

  Bella nibbled on her bottom lip and peered down at her chart. “Mmm, about fifteen or twenty minutes?”

  “Oh.” Mia couldn’t keep the disappointment out of her tone but then tried another tactic. “Wow, has anyone ever told you that you look like Eva Longoria?” It was true. She did. “Except, you know, younger.”

  “Actually, I get that a lot. So would you like to wait?” Bella politely persisted.

  “Well, I’m just passing through and in a bit of a rush,” Mia replied slowly but then leaned forward and shook her head. Somehow this homey atmosphere made her feel guilty for fibbing. “Actually, that’s not true. It just smells divine and I’m famished.”

  “I totally understand. And trust me, you won’t be disappointed.” Bella glanced over her shoulder and then back at Mia. “Well, would you mind sitting at the back counter? There’s a vacant stool there.”

  Mia looked at the open seat between a big, burly dude in overalls who sported a Santa-like beard and a younger guy in jeans and a baseball cap. While they appeared friendly enough, Mia had issues about sharing her personal space. She swallowed hard and was about to tell Bella that she would wait, but then she spotted a waitress carrying a tray laden with delicious-looking comfort food and nodded. “A stool at the counter would be perfect. Thank you so much.”

  “Super.” Bella raised one dark eyebrow just slightly, making Mia wonder if the hostess knew her dilemma. “You may seat yourself. Enjoy your lunch,” she added with a smile.

  “Thank you!” Mia made her way to the rear of the dining room. She passed a lovely array of desserts beneath a revolving glass display counter but told herself not to indulge and kept on moving. Oh, but then her eyes were drawn to a room to the right that had a script sign that read WINE AND DIVINE. It was a gift shop!

  Mia’s footsteps slowed to a near stop when she spotted a rack of colorful woven scarves that looked baby soft, and her fingers twitched with the need to touch. She tried to avert her gaze, but when sunlight from the window glinted off a tray of jewelry, she was tugged that way as if pulled by a magnet. She actually rounded a table and craned her neck to see a shelf of lovely candles that she was sure smelled divine like the sign promised, but her stomach rumbled in protest. Her need for food was making her light-headed and was the only thing that kept her feet walking toward the round stool. Well, that and the little voice in the back of her head that reminded Mia that she was without credit cards and had very little cash left. She did still have her father’s gas card tucked in her wallet, so at least putting fuel in the temperamental Toyota wasn’t going to be a problem. Mia cringed as she thought that her next meal might have to be a shriveled-up hot dog twirling on one of those greasy silver grids in a convenience store so unlike the delicious Chicago-style dogs sold from street vendors.

  Trying her best not to bump the bearded guy, who was totally taking up more than his share of the allotted space, Mia leaned a little to the right as she scooted onto the stool. She was almost successful, but her hobo-style purse slid from her shoulder and whacked the elbow of the younger guy just as he lifted his arm to take a drink from a tall glass.

  “What the … ,” he griped as he doused his burger. Water splashed down the front of his shirt and he hissed when ice cubes clinked against the counter and landed in a neat little heap between his legs.

  “Sorry!” Mia squeaked and started snatching napkins from the little metal holder. She tried to dab at his sopping shirt, but he made some sort of rude growling noise and jumped up from the stool. Without looking at her, he scooped the remaining pile of ice from the stool and dumped it back into his glass. “Sorry,” Mia repeated in a lower voice, but all she got was his narrowed gaze. “It was an accident!” she repeated in a firmer tone and felt heat creep into her cheeks when she realized that they had become the center of attention.

  “You could have been more careful.” He plucked at his T-shirt, which was clinging to him like a second skin.

  Mia tried not to stare at his nicely defined chest but failed. “I’ll pay for your meal,” Mia assured him politely and nodded to the waitress who hurried over to the scene. “Please bring him a fresh burger and fries.”

  “Not necessary,” he said in the same clipped tone and sopped up the water pooled on the counter.

  “But you haven’t eaten your meal.”

  “No, I mean it’s not necessary for you to pay for it.”

  “I insist!”

  “Okay.” He lifted one shoulder and sat back down just as Mia reached over to brush a remaining ice cube off the shiny red vinyl stool. His butt landed on her hand, making her yelp.

  “Ouch!” Mia yanked hard just as he stood, making her give a hard elbow to the bearded guy to her left. He grunted and sent his grilled cheese sailing over his head and onto the floor just as a waitress hurried by. Her foot slipped on the soft sandwich, causing her tray to tilt. She yelped and jerked the tray upright but overcompensated, sending French fries flying and burgers flipping into the air.

  Mia put a hand to her mouth as the rest of the scene unfolded as if in slow motion …

  Two tall milk shakes wobbled back a
nd forth as if swaying to the piped-in music and then tipped forward, sending cherries shooting into the air, followed by a waterfall of chocolate shake spilling to the floor. A busboy rushed forward but slid through the puddle of shake like he was on ice skates and crashed into a seated man, who went from squeezing ketchup onto his onion rings to spattering it into the face of his female companion. She screamed and leaned backward, allowing the red stream to squirt the face of the man directly behind her. He jerked sideways and knocked over all three beverages on his table and sent silverware clanking to the floor.

  And then there was silence … well, except for the cheerful sound of the bluegrass music, which seemed to be mocking Mia. She swallowed hard while considering if she should make a mad dash for the front door. While calculating how fast she could actually dash in her chunky shoes she sneaked a peek at the waitress behind the counter, who was swiping at her eyes. Dear God, was she crying? When Mia swiveled her head, she noticed that the belly of the Santa look-alike was shaking like a bowl full of jelly, Mia thought with dark humor. Was he crying too?

  Had she reduced an entire lunch crowd to tears?

  “Well, if that just wasn’t the funniest damn thing I’ve witnessed in a long-ass time,” the bearded man said in a deep voice punctuated with bouts of low-pitched laughter. He slapped his thigh. “Don’t that just beat all?” he asked, but Mia avoided his gaze and kept her head down.

  “Don’t I know it,” the waitress agreed and swiped at what Mia realized were tears of laughter. A titter began at the table next to the counter and rolled into full-blown amusement until everyone in the joint was doubled over except, notably, Mr. Tall and Brooding standing next to her. He sat down with an angry plop, folded his arms across his wet chest, and sighed.

  “Just what are you moaning about?” Mia demanded hotly.

  “Oh, let’s see. My ruined lunch.” He glanced down and plucked at his chest. “My sopping shirt and cold crotch.”

  “Oh, stop,” Mia sputtered and pointed to the menu. “Wine … and Diner. Without the h, so quit your whining.”

  He snorted at her sorry attempt at humor. “Really?”

  “Really,” she confirmed close to his ear, since everyone was still laughing and reliving the incident while the busboys mopped up the many messes. “I said I was sorry and that I’d pay for your lunch. I’m at a loss as to what more I can do.”

  “Well, Princess, you need to pay for everyone else’s that you ruined while you’re at it.”

  “Don’t call me princess,” she pleaded. It was her father’s pet name for her, which had been cute when she was a child but had not been so sweet an endearment this past week.

  “Really?” He took his baseball cap off and let his gaze travel down her pale blond hair, over her classy Ralph Lauren white linen shirt and black cuffed capri pants to her Jimmy Choo crushed patent leather clogs, finally coming to rest on her diamond tennis bracelet. She wasn’t quite sure from his hooded expression if he liked what he saw or not.

  “Really!” she repeated firmly and shot him a glare that she hoped would intimidate him, but he gave her a sardonic arch of one eyebrow. “I am very … um … down-to-earth,” she said, even though she wasn’t quite sure that she truly was all that … earthy.

  “Gross,” he growled, and for a horrifying second Mia thought he was referring to her appearance, but he picked up his sopping-wet bun and grimaced.

  “Oh, it’s not that bad,” Mia grumbled and then motioned for the laughing waitress, who flipped a long braid over her shoulder and headed over to the counter. “Um, this little … situation might have inadvertently been my fault,” she began but paused when the guy next to her had the nerve to sigh. Mia swiveled on her stool to face him. “Excuse me?”

  “Might have been your fault?”

  Mia fisted her hands on her hips. “You were the one who spilled your water everywhere!”

  “Only because you knocked it out of my hand, Princess.” He drew out the nickname and arched that exasperating eyebrow again.

  Mia narrowed her gaze and refused to acknowledge how hazel his eyes were or his straight white teeth or the sexy dark stubble covering a strong, square jawline. And his leg, suddenly pressed against hers, did not cause the hot shiver that slid down her spine. It was … anger! “I was merely trying not to bump into the gentleman next to me.”

  “And smacked me with your suitcase instead.”

  “It was my purse!”

  “Could have fooled me. What do you have in there anyway?” He rubbed his bumped arm while he glanced down at the shiny leather bag and his other eyebrow joined the arched one. “Bricks?”

  Mia rolled her eyes at him. “Nothing much.” Not much money anyway.

  “Really …”

  “Stop saying that!”

  “What?”

  “Really …” She mocked his deep voice. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed that the waitress was watching the exchange with amused interest. Mia was normally self-conscious about what people thought of her, but right now she was too steamed to care.

  “Whatever, Princess. Oh wait, I can’t say that either. Any other orders you want to give me while you’re at it?”

  “Yes, stop being so … rude!” Mia shot back and tried to add a glare, but her voice shook and her bottom lip had the audacity to tremble. She was used to people fawning over her instead of finding fault, and she suddenly feared that her father was right. Perhaps she didn’t have the strength to make it on her own after all! When her eyes welled up, she turned away and hoped he didn’t notice. “Would you please replace anyone’s lunch that got ruined and put it on my tab?” she requested with a smile at the waitress.

  “That won’t be necessary, sugar.” The waitress returned the smile and added a wink. “I’ll take care of it.”

  “I don’t want you to do that!” Mia was horrified that a waitress would have to pay for her screwup.

  “It was an accident,” she said soothingly and flashed the guy next to her a look of warning. “Now, Cam, I know that you’re still fairly new around these parts, but we don’t cry over spilled milk shakes around here.” She turned back to Mia. “Now, what would you like for lunch? May I suggest the special, chicken-fried steak, mashed potatoes, and green beans? It’s a house specialty.”

  “Oh, thank you so much.” Mia tried not to wince at the amount of calories in the special and raised one shoulder. “I was thinking of a nice salad with dressing on the side,” Mia replied, but then Cam, as the waitress had called him, sighed as if he was reading her I-know-your-type mind. Mia raised her chin. “But the chicken-fried-steak special sounds too scrumptious to pass up.”

  “Gravy?”

  “Yes … extra!” she said but had to suppress a shudder. “And water with a very thin slice of lemon.”

  “Coming right up.”

  “You won’t regret it,” the Santa look-alike promised.

  “I’m sure I won’t,” Mia answered loud enough for Cam to hear. “And I’m so sorry I caused your sandwich to sail across the room.”

  He shrugged his beefy shoulders. “Hey, don’t worry about the ruined lunches or the mess. People are pretty good-natured around here, and the woman who waited on you is Myra Robinson, one of the owners.”

  “Oh, thank you for letting me know.”

  “No problem.” He extended his hand. “I’m Pete Sully. I own Sully’s Tavern just down the road. If you’re staying here in Cricket Creek, stop in and I’ll make you a perfect martini on the house.”

  “Why, thank you, Mr. Sully,” she said, even though she doubted he could make a perfect martini. “I’m just passing through or I’d take you up on it.”

  “Call me Pete,” he insisted in a gruff voice laced with southern charm that made Mia smile in spite of her embarrassing mishap. “And if you change your mind, little lady, let me know.”

  “About the martini?”

  Pete grinned. “Naw … about just passing through.”

  “Oh, there’s no chance of
me staying,” she said, but when the guy next to her chuckled she added, “This is a lovely town, but I’m a city girl.”

  Pete shook his head. “City dwellers staying in Cricket Creek seems to be a trend here lately,” he warned her. “So what’s your name, if I might ask?”

  “Mia Mon … ,” she began but then swallowed hard and thought fast, “… ee.” While she wasn’t exactly a full-blown celebrity, her name was often in the tabloids, and besides that, she really didn’t want her father hot on her trail.

  “Mia Money?”

  “Yes,” she answered firmly and ignored the quick intake of breath from the guy next to her. He pressed his leg against hers as if saying Yeah, right. “Mia Money,” she repeated.

  “Any relation to Eddie?” Pete asked with a grin.

  “Eddie?”

  “Eddie Money,” Pete said and then sang, “‘Two tickets to paradise …’”

  “Oh, the singer … I don’t think so,” she added with a shake of her head and then gratefully turned her attention to the plate of food that suddenly arrived. She wasn’t a very good liar and hated being lied to but felt the need to protect her identity. “Oh … my.” She looked down at the huge helping of … everything. A scoop of mashed potatoes was squished between the golden breaded steak and green beans seasoned with some serious chunks of ham. Thick white gravy flecked with pepper covered the golden-fried meat and formed a puddle in the center of the big helping of fluffy potatoes.

  Dear God.

  “Everything okay?” Myra asked with a hint of uncertainty and then placed a small blue plate of two big connected yeast rolls and two pats of butter down next to her tall glass of water. She noticed that the slice of lemon was paper-thin, as requested.

  “Yes, everything looks … amazing,” Mia replied as she slowly unrolled her silverware from the paper napkin.

  “Well, good. Enjoy your lunch,” Myra added with a smile. “Holler if you need anything, okay, sweetie?”