Three Wishes Read Free Page B

LeeAnn.
    â€œTwenty?”
    Bree nudged Gene’s shoulder. “He’s putting you on, Lee. Come on, guys. Behave.”
    â€œWhat fun is that?” Gene asked, hooking her waist and pulling her close.
    She unhooked his arm. “All the fun you’re getting,” she said, with a haughty look. “I’ll be back to take your order once I’m done scraping down plates.”
    â€œI’ll have my usual,” T. J. Kearns said fast, before she could leave.
    â€œMe, too,” said Gene.
    John pointed at himself and nodded, indicating beef pot pie topped with mashed potatoes and gravy, served with hunks of bread for dunking and whatever vegetables Flash had that day, buttered.
    Kip was eyeing the specials board. “What’s he got up there that I want?”
    Bree knew Kip. “Brook trout,” she said in a cultured way, “sautéed in butter and served on a bed of basmati rice, with sun-dried tomatoes, Portobello mushrooms, and broccoli.”
    Kip sighed his pleasure. “One up, right here. Thanks, doll.”
    Â 
    Panama lay in hill country. Come the first of November, sand barrels sat on most every corner, trucks carried chains, and folks without four-wheel drive put on snow tires. But this wasn’t the first of November. It was the ninth of October, and the snow was coming heavy and fast. By eight, only a handful of stragglers remained.
    Armed with a laptop computer and her own serving of trout, Bree slid in across from Flash. He was reading the newspaper, alternately sipping coffee and pulling at one of two sticky buns on his plate, no doubt his dinner. She never failed to be amazed that a man who was endlessly artful when it came to creating meals for others had such abominable eating habits himself.
    â€œYou’re missing good trout,” she said.
    â€œI hate bones.”
    â€œThere aren’t any bones. Not in your trout.”
    â€œThat’s what we tell the customers,” he said, without looking up, “but I never know for sure if I get them all out, and the fear of it would ruin my meal. Besides”—he looked up then—“there aren’t usually any sticky buns left after five. Why are there today?”
    Bree opened the laptop. “Because Angus, Oliver, and Jack didn’t make it in”—and wisely so, since the three were in their eighties and better at home in a storm.
    â€œFlash?” asked LeeAnn. She shot a look at the last man at the counter. “Gav says he’ll drive me home, since I don’t have boots or anything, but he can’t hang around till we close.” Her brows rose.
    Flash shot a look at Bree. “Ask her. She’s the one who’ll have to cover for you.”
    Bree shooed her off. “No one else is coming in. Not tonight. Go.”
    LeeAnn went.
    â€œShe skips out early too often,” Flash said. “You have a soft heart.”
    â€œYours is softer than mine, which is why you didn’t say no first. Besides, she has kids at home. I don’t.”
    â€œWhy not?” he asked.
    Bree pulled up the supply list. “I think we’ve been through this before.”
    â€œTell me again. I especially like the part about needing a man to have kids, like you couldn’t have any guy who walked in here. Know what turns them on? Your disinterest.”
    â€œIt isn’t disinterest. It’s caution.”
    Caution sounded kinder. Disinterest was probably more to the point. The men who passed through the diner were just fine for conversation and laughs. They gave appreciative looks to her hair, which was thick, dark, and forever escaping whatever she tied it with, and her body, which was of average height and better toned than most. What they liked most, though, was the fact that she served them without argument and, more, that she knew what they wanted before they said it. Her father had liked that, too. She had been his cook, his maid, his tailor, his