He lets out a deep breath. “Sweet tea, please.”
A few of the guys are old enough to drink, so I wait for their beers at the bar, happy to have a chance to calm down. I steal cherries from the bar and pop them in my mouth, thinking. I’m happy Jeremiah’s okay, but I want to punch his lights out too. I’m also glad he came to sit in my section at the Roadhouse. I don’t like all these random emotions. My life is a damned clown show.
The atmosphere is a lot happier when I return to my round and start distributing glasses of tea and frosted mugs filled with frothy beer.
“Thanks, Annie,” one of the guys says with a big grin. “I’m Jere’s friend, Mason.”
“I didn’t know Jere had friends,” I joke. “Did he pay y’all to come with him tonight?”
They howl with laughter at Jeremiah’s expense. He scowls. “These idiots are in my fraternity. Can we have more bread, please?”
That empty basket had at least ten rolls in it!
“I swear, Jeremiah, all you do is eat.”
“I’m an active guy. I need the calories. Weren’t you starving after all that shuffleboard last week?”
“No.”
“Well, I’m hungry. That’s why I’m here—I’m starving.”
“He’s lying, Annie,” a boy with black curly hair says. “He’s here because he wanted to come see you.”
Jeremiah throws a peanut at his head. And that starts a peanut fight.
Boys.
I go back into the kitchen. One of the prep cooks came down with a summer cold, so Stephanie has to fill in. Thank the heavens. The last thing I need is her discovering who the guy at my round is.
After I carry food out to my two top, I take orders at the round. Jeremiah wants a bacon cheeseburger and fries with all the trimmings. Where does he put all this food?
“We’re still on for the race tomorrow, right?” he asks.
“Yep. You’re pickin’ me up at five thirty a.m.”
“You should just sleep over with Jere,” Mason says. “You’d both get to stay in bed longer.”
“Shut up, ass**le,” Jeremiah says, launching a peanut at his head. The other guys burst out laughing as my face burns up in embarrassment.
Another peanut fight ensues. They occupy my table for the rest of the night, raucously drinking beer after beer and flirting with me.
And leave a 60 percent tip.
•••
When he told me to wear a white T-shirt, perverted things immediately jumped to mind.
But when Jeremiah hops down out of his Jeep and slowly walks to the door of our trailer, I know it wasn’t because he wants to see me in a wet T-shirt—he’s wearing a white tee and white shorts himself.
Nick stares out the window like a house cat stalking a bird. “This guy looks like an order of mashed potatoes.”
“I still don’t know why you’re awake so early,” I say.
Smiling, his mouth twitches. “You know why.”
“Yeah, we’re not missing this,” Mom says, sipping from a coffee mug.
I swear. Nick goes camping every Saturday night with his girlfriend and Mom never climbs out of bed before noon on Sundays after working the night shift at Quick Pick. But here they are at 5:30 a.m., up early to see the guy taking me to a race.
“He’s just a friend,” I say softly.
Mom gently pats my back. “And I want to meet your friend.”
Can Jeremiah see the three of us are staring at him out the window? If he can, he must think we’re real creepers. He focuses on my front door and lets out a deep breath, as if he’s nervous.
When he knocks, Nick and Mom rush to let him in. He grins when he sees me, but turns his focus to my mother, shaking her hand. “I’m Jeremiah Brown, ma’am.”
“Call me Robin.” I can tell she likes him right away, especially when he smiles.
My brother, however, is not as welcoming. He shakes Jeremiah’s hand. Hard. “What time will Annie be home?”
“Ow. We should be back by nine. Unless she wants to get brunch.”
“She wants to get brunch,” Mom rushes to reply.
“Mom,” I warn. Please don’t push me.
“Or you can come home and eat with me,” she says, and I give her a grateful smile.
“Text me on your way home,” Nick says to me.
“Okay, Dad.”
Mom and Jeremiah snort at the same time, and Nick storms off to the kitchen in a huff.
“I’m sorry about him,” Mom tells Jeremiah. “He’s not normally like this.”