Amazon Exclusive Excerpt: From the belly of the kitchen, the chime on the front door can be heard, signaling a customer’s arrival. It’s then I realize I’m still standing in the spot Wyatt left me. Everyone else is busy with their jobs, zipping around, oblivious to my presence. So, I turn my gaze to my feet and walk back through the swinging doors. As I pass through to the dining area, movement catches my attention. Wanting a glimpse at what my job will be like, I pause; thinking a waiter or waitress will be coming any second. Turning my head just a little, I watch as a young woman slides into a booth, all the way to the inside as if she’s making room for someone to sit next to her. Her eyes are focused on the window, never looking down or at a menu, and I can’t help but stand there and stare at her. A throat clears, making me jump, and I don’t know if I should feel relieved or embarrassed to see Wyatt standing behind me. “She’s a regular,” he tells me, looking over at the same girl. “She comes in every Thursday and sits in that same booth, but she doesn’t order or say much. We just leave her be.” “Okay,” I say as Wyatt leaves me standing. For some reason, my eyes are still on the girl. It seems like a strange thing for someone to do—come and sit at a café, but never order anything—but I’m sure she has her reasons, and to be honest, I’m happy to know I’ll have at least one easy customer. I can do this. As I head for the front door, I give my future non-customer one last glance. I expect her to continue staring out the window, so when she turns around and our eyes meet, it catches me off guard. My body freezes—not just because she makes eye contact or for the fact that she’s beautiful, but also because I don’t think I’ve ever seen eyes quite as sad as hers. They’re dark and deep and full of unshed emotion. Something about them—her—makes my heart clench. I haven’t had a reaction like this to a girl in a long time. The feeling practically levels me. Quickly, I turn away, averting my gaze back to the floor and forcing my feet forward. The second my hand is on the doorknob, my pulse begins to race, and beads of sweat break out on my forehead, sure signs of a panic attack looming over me like a ticking time bomb.
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