1. Kali

CHAPTER 1

Kali

One month before I was taken…

“Excuse me, miss, can I get a refill?”

I nod as I pass a table, balancing a tray stacked with dirty dishes. Where the heck is Pearl? That isn’t even my table.

“I need my check!” another table yells at me.

My backside meets the swinging door, and I drop the tray on the counter, blowing the loose tendrils of hair out of my face, taking a quick breath. People are out for blood today.

“Has anyone seen Pearl?”

The cooks all shake their heads. Seriously? Couldn’t she have picked a better time to disappear? We’re right in the middle of the lunch rush. I pop my head out the back door, checking to see if she’s smoking. She never would at this time, but where did she go? I groan in frustration when I hear the voices growing louder in the dining area.

As I’m about to push back through the swinging doors, Roberto stops me. I open my mouth to tell the owner of the Wallflower Diner that now isn’t the time. But he beats me to the punch.

“Hey, Pearl’s in the backroom, feeling woozy. I’m sending her home. Susie’s coming in an hour early, but I’ll come out and help clean off tables and run the tabs until she gets here.”

I stare at him, needing more information. Pearl never takes off work. She’d come in medicated before she would call in sick. “Is she okay? What’s wrong with her?”

He shrugs. “I’m not a doctor. She’s really pale and says she feels like she’s about to pass out.” His nonchalant attitude toward her annoys me.

“Did she eat something bad? Her blood sugar could be low. Do you think she’ll be okay going home by herself? Can she even drive?”

“Kali,” he says in a firm tone, interrupting my rambling. “I. Don’t. Know. And I don’t care. She said she’ll be fine. She just needs to go home and lie down. And I have a room full of people looking for their server.” He points out the door. “Get out there.”

Frustrated, I shoot him a narrowed glare, and he responds with a lifted brow, telling me to get moving. I huff, still worried about Pearl, but know he’s right. People will only get worse if they have to wait much longer. Within fifteen minutes, we’ve caught back up, and the crowd thins to just a few tables. I take a peek at the tip tally I keep track of during the day, and despite the exhaustion, I can’t help but smile at the better-than-normal numbers.

Making lemonade out of lemons.

“Oh my gosh, please tell me you haven’t been sitting here very long,” I say, stopping at a booth with a man sitting by himself, looking at his phone. He’s in Pearl’s section. No drink. No food. Who knows how long he’s been here. The stranger looks up from under the brim of his burnt-orange baseball hat and offers a charming smile.

Hello, Mr. Gorgeous. You’re not from around here, but will you marry me?

Dark curls peek out from the back of his hat, green eyes and perfectly straight white teeth greet me. Our town sits between two large universities, so college kids pass through frequently, especially during game weekends. This guy…totally fits the part. I imagine he’s in one of those fraternities, with girls throwing themselves at him at the incessant parties they have—the ones I overhear the college guys talk about. Yeah, I’m nosey like that . I’ve always wondered when they squeeze in their studies. But this guy, I bet he uses his handsome, boyish good looks to ace his classes.

“Not too long,” he responds.

Oh. He has a nice deep voice, too.

“Sorry. We’re a little understaffed today.”

“No worries. I’m not in any hurry. I’ve enjoyed watching you.”

My eyes widen, and I stand up a little straighter. Watching me? He’s out of my league, so my internal bullshit meter just popped up. I’m not horrendous. I’d rate myself a solid five. Long, thick, but mousy-brown hair with dull blue eyes, small boobs on a slender frame— average . This guy, however, doesn’t strike me as someone who settles for average. Not when he can get a ten, easy.

“That sounded creepy,” he adds, holding up his hand. “What I meant was, you’ve been working your ass off, so I didn’t want to add any more work when everyone seemed to be in a rush to get out of here.”

See, he’s just a nice guy, it wasn’t about me at all. “It’s too bad people couldn’t be more understanding like you.” His boyish charm contrasts sharply with his muscular physique, his shirt stretched tight around his biceps. “Headed back to school?”

“Yep. Went down south to see the family for the weekend.”

“Aw, that’s sweet. You’re a good son.”

“I try to be,” he says, his words carrying a trace of melancholy. I wonder about the story behind those words. The sadness behind them. But he shakes out of it, and he’s back to his boyish grin.

“So, what’ll be? It’ll be on the house for being so understanding.” Translated, I’ll be paying for it because Roberto doesn’t part with food without a transaction.

“I’ve heard about the famous cherry pie here. I’ll just have a piece of that.”

“Um…” I tug on my ear. I’ve already told at least five people we’re sold out for the day. Yet, there is one slice left—the one I put aside for me . I deserve it after today’s hustle. But you can count on me as one of the people who can be swayed with just a charming smile. I glance around the room and try to recall who ordered a piece. Most people have cleared out. “It’s your lucky day. There is one piece left,” I say in a hushed tone.

He glances to his left, around me, undoubtedly curious why I’m whispering, then he leans forward. “Is it a secret?”

Think of something witty.

“I guess you haven’t heard,” I whisper back, leaning forward. “The town has this thing where if an out-of-towner eats the last slice of cherry pie.” I cringe, exaggerating by glancing around. “They’ll put you in jail.”

Really? That’s what you thought of? Arrested? Kill me now.

He surprisingly plays along. “What’s the charge?”

Shit. Now what do I say?

“Illegally hypnotizing a server because that is the only way you’d get the last piece of pie.”

You should’ve stopped while you were ahead. Horrible, Kali.

He playfully acts serious, narrowing his eyes, then winks. Yes, he winked at me .

“Sounds like it’s worth the risk,” he says.

Okay…the morbidly embarrassing banter was worth the wink.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

His laughter follows me as I walk away, laughing softly to myself.

Susie catches me exhaling through puffed-out cheeks. “Sweetie, you’ve got yourself a looker,” she says, trailing behind me into the back.

“That he is, but there’s only window shopping for this girl,” I mutter to myself as I grab my piece of pie from the fridge, placing it on a plate and topping it with whipped cream.

Joe’s brows furrow. “I thought you said if anyone touched that, you’d bite their fingers off.”

I shrug. “Customers first, right?”

“More like a hot college kid first,” Susie adds.

Joe tosses out kissy noises when I walk past him, making the other guys chuckle. Juvenile s. Before pushing through the doors, I flip them off, causing them to howl in laughter. A flutter of anticipation swirls in my belly, and an unfamiliar giddiness takes me by surprise. I’ve served countless people before, and I’ve never been this excited to deliver food to someone. It’s sad, but this is the highlight of my mundane week. Possibly a month.

I slide the plate on the table and say, “You better love this. It’s about to cost you your freedom.”

He looks at it and hums.

It does look amazing, doesn’t it? The amount of cherry filling that fills the middle makes this pie amazing—not too sweet, not too tart. And it has the perfect golden crust…

“Wanna sit and share it?”

Yes .

But that would be weird.

I let out an awkward laugh. I can’t remember the last time I was this flustered as I look down and straighten my name tag, even though I know it’s straight because every morning I pin it at least five times until it’s perfect. “That piece of pie is all yours.”

He tilts his head, as if he’s trying to decipher my thoughts, then he surprises me when he asks, “This was your piece, wasn’t it?”

My cheeks flush. “You caught me. It was. But you look like you needed it more than me.”

He puts the fork down and nods. “I look desperate, don’t I?”

“No, I didn’t mean it that way.” Way to offend him.

Susie passes me, and we make eye contact. She wags her brows with a smirk while looking at the stranger and me. Thankfully, his back is to her, so he can’t see her ogling over him.

“You had heard about our famous pie, and I didn’t want you to leave with a poor opinion of the place because then you’d leave a scathing review. Then it’d be all my fault people would stop coming because of one horrible review.”

He slowly nods his head. “So, you did it for the restaurant?”

“Exactly.”

A few tables over, someone waves at me, forcing me back to reality. I have a job to do. And this poor guy probably wants to eat and leave. By the time I return, after taking care of a couple tables, he’s left. I try to hide my disappointment, the silly thoughts flicker—he was flirting or sticking around trying to figure out how to ask me out. But reality sets in—I’m just a small-town waitress with average looks who’s stuck in the town you drive through to get somewhere else.

At least he ate all the pie.

When I grab his cash, I spot a handwritten note on the back of the bill.

Thanks, Kali, for a memorable meal. I’d give the meal a four-star, service five-star plus. Hope to see you next time I stop in.

Despite the bitter tinge of disappointment, his words made my day.

See you later, Mr. Gorgeous. Next time, I’ll join you.

“Kali,” Pearl calls from the dining area, drawing my attention from the cook’s window. After the chaos of yesterday, I was relieved to see her walking through the front doors this morning, looking like her crazy normal self. When I called her last night to check on her and tell her about the day, she called it a twelve-hour bug, but I suspected it was her body’s way of telling her she needed a break—she’s here six days a week, some seven.

I spot her holding a pink box. “Something came for you,” she squeals.

When was the last time I received something nice? I know it’s been a really long time. Was it the cupcakes my mom made me in third grade? I think it was. In an effort to combat the mean girls at school, Mom thought the sweet treat would help. It didn’t. They were just mean girls on a sugar high afterward. Because, sadly, mean girls are always just that. Mean. She used to say, “kill ’em with kindness.” Ironic really. She was dead two months later.

I shake the memory from my head. With no family left and the closest friend I have staring at me, the list of people who could have given me this is short.

“What is it?”

“It says it’s from West Side Pies,” she replies.

I tilt my head. Someone sent me a pie?

I grab the pink box, stamped with huge red letters on top, and unwrap the cellophane. When I lift the top, there’s a pie inside. I glance around at the staff, wondering if someone is playing a trick on me because of the guy from yesterday. They would totally do this.

“Okay, who did this?” I chuckle. Everyone shrugs and shakes their heads. I stare at Joe. Him and his kissy-noises ass would do this. “You?”

He barks out a laugh, holding two spatulas in the air. “I wish I would’ve thought of it. But not me.”

“Are you sure this is for me?” I ask Pearl. There’s not even a card.

She nods. “That’s what the delivery guy said. And he had a West Side Pie shirt on.” She pulls out her phone she just bought. I’m still jealous of her new toy. Before, we shared the bond of being the only two people on earth who didn’t own a cell phone. It’s a luxury item I can’t afford at the moment. “I don’t know them. Let’s look them up.”

While she searches, I pull out the pie and find a bifold piece of paper taped to the bottom.

“They’re an Austin pie maker. Ohhh…they have over five thousand five-star reviews. They must be good,” she says as I detach the letter and open it.

Sorry to duck out so fast. I had to make a quick escape as the local police were closing in on me. Thanks for giving me your last piece of pie. But THIS is the best cherry pie I’ve ever had. You have to try it. And I promise, you won’t go to jail eating the last piece.

A giggle escapes from nowhere. The slightest hint of attention turns me into a human jack-in-the-box. It doesn’t take much to wind me up. But I can’t help it, the charming stranger from yesterday surprised me with a pie.

A cherry pie.

My favorite.

This is better than flowers.

“It doesn’t say who it’s from,” Pearl says, reading the letter over my shoulder.

He didn’t leave his name. Again.

“Remember, I told you about that college guy? It’s from him.”

“Mm-hmm.” She bumps me on the hip with hers. “Susie told me he was super cute. He must’ve liked you, hon.”

I roll my eyes and grab a knife. I’m not holding my breath. “Who wants a piece?”