Practically Persuaded in Pittsburgh Page 2

  And she most definitely shouldn’t still be here—in an apron working his parents’ restaurant, just like she was when he’d left to live his exciting New York life so many years ago.

  “Actually, yes,” she managed to reply. She reached over to grab two Sterno cans and a long lighter from across the counter. In her attempt not to step closer to him, she lost her balance and stumbled. When she righted herself, she found she was squeezed between him and the counter—and he had a grip on both her elbows.

  A smile twitched one side of his lips, and he raised an eyebrow. “Walk much?”

  “Funny,” she said, in a decidedly sarcastic tone. She shoved the Sternos and lighter into his chest. “Go replace the ones that ran out.”

  “You okay, Sades?” he said. One big hand now held the equipment to his chest, but the other smoothed a thumb in a silky caress just above her elbow.

  “You bet. Just lots to do, Diner Boy,” she said, and slid out of his grasp. The nickname she’d given him when she’d barely had breasts slipped out. Likely it was her subconscious’s way of putting him in his place—as a long-ago coworker, a casual buddy she used to rib. A name that had once upon a time reminded her that even though he was the son of the owners, he was no better than her. Just a regular guy.

  She shoved his shoulder with her free hand. “Come back for the ziti,” she told him.

  He held her eyes, and his lips curled into what looked like a satisfied smile. He waited to move until that damn dimple showed up.

  What he was satisfied about, she had no idea. The jerkwad.

  As the swinging door swooshed behind him, Sadie cursed.

  She knew perfectly well that he didn’t deserve her ire. She was angry with herself, ticked off that her heart sped up when he was near, that she’d fallen asleep fantasizing about his lean body sliding over hers, that she still—after all this time—had it bad for him.

  And most of all, that he made Tom Radokovich—her perfectly good boyfriend—seem completely unappealing.

  Jake snuck into the diner’s tiny office and shut the door behind him. He scrubbed his hands through his hair and blew out a breath. He loved that so many people had turned out to pay their respects, share their stories, and lament that they’d never have Chuck’s perfect Black and Gold Omelet again.

  He crossed to the chair behind the desk and huffed out a sad, short laugh. He was pretty sure Kerry Gold cheese and burnt bacon crumbles weren’t a state secret—but he got it. He was going to miss his dad too. It wasn’t fair. Chuck had been so young—not even sixty-five. But a long-ago virus had weakened his heart. Jake leaned back, swallowed the lump in his throat, and shut his eyes against the tears that threatened.

  Minutes later, he heard movement outside, and the approaching voices got louder.

  “Let Sadie run it while you take a break.” That was Aunt Reenie Zubik, his mom’s sister.

  “She’s due to graduate in June. Finally.” The response was from his mom. “I wouldn’t ask it of her. Besides, it’s too much for one person.”

  Jake heard the door to the storage room next door open, and the voices became disembodied. Instead of coming through the cheap wooden door, they floated through the duct work and into the office via the vent above his head.

  “Sell it! I couldn’t!” Rita said. He heard some rustling. She was likely shifting things to get to the stash of booze. Jack Daniel’s, tequila, Liquor 43, and some nice wine they hid for special occasions. Without a liquor license, it was only for family after hours.

  It was that same stash that was responsible for that kiss with Sadie. That and the private confines of the storeroom. Always that kiss…drawing his mind back, making him touch her earlier when he shouldn’t have…

  Jake listened closely. If it sounded like his mom and aunt needed any help, he’d abandon his quest for a few minutes of privacy.

  “Well,” Reenie said, “you can’t manage this without Chuck. Like you said, it’s too much for one person. I know it’s Chuck’s legacy, but it’s gonna put you in an early grave too if you keep going like this.”

  Jake cringed. Reenie meant well, but she wasn’t exactly full of tact. He didn’t hear a response from his mom, but imagined she rolled her eyes and pursed her lips with displeasure—her usual response when Reenie said a little too much.

  “It’s too bad Jeremy just opened his own place. Ask Jonah to come help. He’s not doing much.”

  “Hah,” said Rita. “You know as well as I do, my Jonah plays spin the wheel when he’s delivering food.”

  Jake chuckled. It was true, but he had no idea if Jonah did it on purpose for kicks or simply couldn’t be bothered to remember who ordered what.

  “What about Jake?” Reenie asked.

  “Hah. He was always more like me,” Rita said, and Jake smiled at the fondness in her voice. “My Jake had a thirst for travel and an urge to bust out of here from an early age. The minute we’d get back from vacation, he’d start asking where we’d go on the next trip.” She laughed. “Remember his face when he first saw Times Square?”

  Jake couldn’t deny it. When he was younger, he’d ached to experience the wider world. He sucked at languages, but he’d studied abroad in London, backpacked until he’d run out of money, and then interned in Geneva. Offered a job as a result, he’d returned there after graduation. Except he’d only been in Geneva a few months when he was offered something he couldn’t turn down in New York. He had always loved New York; his initial childlike delight had only morphed into adult interest. The excitement, the hustle, the always-something-going-on of the big city… These days, however, he longed to avoid the crowds, ignore the grime, and get through his day. He still liked to travel, but he couldn’t say he had an interest in living abroad right now.

  “Yes,” Reenie said, “but he was also a natural in this place.”

  “Enough,” said Rita. “Maybe I just wasn’t meant to see the world. But I know for sure that my boys need to live their lives. They don’t need to be saddled with me and all this. They haven’t even found wives yet. And this place should be run by a couple who’s already committed—or a pair of siblings or something. Someone with ties.”

  “A gay couple would be perfect,” Reenie exclaimed. “What about those cuties who come in on Sundays? The ones who are buying one of those new condos?”

  “Reenie, you have got to stop,” Rita said sharply. “I literally just buried Chuck. I’m not selling or passing on the reins anytime soon. End of discussion.”

  Jake heard the clinking of bottles, and then his mom told Reenie, “Grab a sleeve of the clear tumblers from that box there.”

  The door slammed behind them, but all Jake could hear was that one question playing over and over in his head.

  What about Jake?

  He sat up in slow motion and gripped the arms of the chair.

  What about Jake?

  Whoa.

  What about Jake…

  What if… Nah… Yes… Well, maybe…

  Jake’s thoughts spun.

  It’d only been two weeks since that team-building trip to True Springs. He’d missed a few days of work to be with his mom and help her contend with all the planning. But because they hadn’t held the funeral immediately, he’d returned to his job in between.

  That visit to True Springs had loosened something in him. He’d no longer been able to trudge through his workday with blinders on. With eyes wide open, he’d realized he could no longer sit tight, biding his time to figure out how to get out of this particular job and company, and probably out of this career and New York City, too.

  Trouble was that he hadn’t come up with any answers. He tried to give himself a break, as grieving made it somewhat hard to focus, but still, he’d become more miserable by the day.

  Life was too short to waste time doing something that made you unhappy—a fact that wedged itself into your brain like a spike when your dad died unexpectedly of a heart attack.

  Exactly what his aunt had been trying to say.
Everybody knew his mom wanted to see the world. She’d double-majored in Spanish and French in college. She had stacks of travel magazines and cruise brochures—both in the restaurant and at home. She made anybody who’d come back from a trip tell her every detail, and loved when they brought her a photo to tack on the board she kept on one wall. The story went that she and his dad had planned to grow the diner into a successful establishment and then sell it and travel the world on the buyout earnings. Dad had even named the place The Wanderlust as a promise to his wife.

  But Jake figured with kids, making a living, college tuition, health issues, and whatever, they just got stuck in the routine. It was human nature: people got stuck.

  Like him.

  Jake believed that, unlike him, his parents had been satisfied with their choices, fairly content in their stuck. His dad loved the old place, fed on the buzz and stress of a rush in the kitchen, and became downright gleeful when a newcomer praised his food on Trip Advisor or Yelp. He’d commit bits of the review to memory and sing it at the top of his lungs into a spatula. And his mom had created a warm atmosphere where every patron felt at home and cared for. She made dear friends of all the regulars and family of all the staff.

  Like Sadie.

  God, it’d been good to see her again. She was more beautiful than ever. What was she now? Twenty-five to his twenty-eight. She’d definitely matured, yet there was an underlying sadness he sensed. He’d always admired her. He knew she worked days at the Children’s Museum in programming and her nights and weekends at The Wanderlust, and his mom had mentioned that she’d finally be graduating this semester. Good for her.

  If she hadn’t been that much younger—in high school when he was in college, in college when he’d bolted for New York—they might have actually dated. They might have gone to the movies or parties as a couple, and, of course, they would have stolen far more kisses and copped feels in the storeroom. There’d always been something easy and comfortable between them, which bordered on attraction—but even beyond the age difference, she was a little too close to home. Like a sister or cousin—or exactly what she was: an employee in his parents’ diner. And that was exactly what had stopped the one kiss.

  Jake thought back. As he recalled, summer had been nearly over, and he’d broken up with his summer girlfriend a couple of weeks before because he’d be spending his senior fall studying in London. Way too far away to consider continuing the relationship. One night at the diner, after shift and before going out, he and his brothers and Sadie had snuck into the storeroom for a couple of shots. But Jonah and Jeremy had taken off fast. He and Sadie were headed to different places but had gotten talking. They sat shoulder to shoulder on the linoleum and passed a bottle of Firefly back and forth. When they finally got up, she lost her balance.

  He reached out to steady her, and she hopped on one foot under his hands.

  “Ow, ow, my leg’s asleep,” she said, laughing up at him.

  “You’re just drunk,” he teased.

  “I’ll admit to tipsy, since I didn’t notice my leg, but not drunk.” She made a face.

  He snorted. It was so Sadie—full of spunk and spit and practicality. And it made him notice her lips.

  “Jake?” she asked.

  He’d been staring at her, at those big eyes that always shone, those straight teeth with that one crooked one that only made an appearance when she really laughed, the pink lips that had to feel as soft as flower petals, and the brown skin that he just knew would feel warm and silky to the touch.

  She hitched in a breath—as if she’d realized where his head was.

  He released her arms, only to cup her head. He breathed her in, then kissed her. Her lips softened. Then she melted into him, slid her hands around his back, and pressed him closer.

  She felt so unbelievably… There weren’t words. He felt—whoa—like never before.

  The kiss turned hot, and next thing he knew, he’d pushed her against the rough wood of a built-in and was grinding against her. Her hands were on his skin, roaming under his shirt, up his sides.

  She moaned.

  “Jesus, Sadie.”

  Sadie.

  Wait.

  He pulled back with what little willpower he had left.

  This was Sadie—now wide-eyed and swollen-lipped and panting.

  Holy shit. He shouldn’t be kissing Sadie. He couldn’t be kissing Sadie. He was leaving. Next week. And next summer he wasn’t going to be back, because right after graduation he’d be going to New York. And she’d still be here, in school. She would be here for a long time. She was going to attend school here in Pittsburgh, starting as a freshman. She was—crap, like one of the family. His family adored her—treated her like the missing sister puzzle piece in a family of boys. His older brother Jeremy would call Jake a maggot and beat him to a pulp, that much easier for his dad to skin him alive.

  Sadie blinked. The fog of passion disappearing under the same bucket of water that had doused him—only it didn’t stop him from wanting her. It only stopped him from acting on it.

  Tears welled in her eyes, and hurt seared him as fast as catching a knuckle on the griddle.

  “Sadie, I’m sorry—”

  But she slipped out of his arms, breaking contact. “Who’s calling who drunk, Diner Boy? Jeez.”

  She bolted out of the storeroom and didn’t look back.

  Jake let her go. He consoled himself because he’d done the right thing after doing the wrong thing—even though there wasn’t a single thing that felt right about that.

  Now, Jake rubbed a hand over his eyes, stunned by how clear that memory was. Probably because he was sitting in the diner and he’d been in close proximity to Sadie most of the weekend.

  He got up to pace, even though there was only about eight feet of non-linear floor space in this tiny office.

  Sadie was still here in Pittsburgh. Still a student at Duquesne University. Still working at The Wanderlust. Was she stuck, too?

  Aunt Reenie had a point. If his mom didn’t go now—travel and experience the world while she still had her health and energy—when would she?

  She didn’t want to sell. And she wasn’t willing to foist the diner onto one person.

  What if he could give her that gift? The gift of freedom? Of travel? And let her hang on to the diner—her home base—too?

  If he quit his job, sublet or even sold his apartment, and came home and ran this place—

  Jake looked around at his parents’ office. Old wood paneling on the walls, framed pictures of he and his brothers on the bookshelf. Binder after binder of tax returns and records… From out front, he could discern voices and laughter from his family and his parents’ longtime friends that still gathered. The kitchen was quiet now, but he could hear in his mind the daily clanging and sizzle and shouting, and could practically smell the sweet waft of pancakes and the heavier scent of bacon. His belly was full of the comfort food they’d churned out today. Far more than the house he’d been raised in, the diner meant home.

  The family legacy. If he wanted it.

  “What do you think, Dad?” Jake murmured, looking at a picture of his dad from two decades ago. He wore a long mustache, a big smile, a Wanderlust apron, and held up a greasy spatula like a microphone. His dad had felt joy here. Not every minute, of course. Owning a small business could be stressful. But overall—the man had been happy. His had been a life well lived.

  Would Jake feel that way too? Or would he feel saddled, as his mom had said?

  When he’d arrived on Thursday, he’d felt comforted. At home. Right. Despite mourning his dad, he had been relieved to return. Even now, after a tough couple of days emotionally, it didn’t feel constraining—it felt liberating. Like putting on his running shoes after wearing laced-tight, flat-soled dress shoes.

  Okaaay, so now he sounded like a commercial for footwear.

  It crossed his mind that if he lived here, he’d be in close proximity to Sadie almost daily. And the age difference no longer
mattered. Three years only mattered in school. For adults, it was nothing. Then again, Sadie was still part of his family—maybe more so with the additional passage of time.

  Jake tried to think ahead, about what daily life might be like here in Pittsburgh, specifically taking on his dad’s role at the diner. Maybe—if he could get Rita to travel—both their roles… Not week one, or month one, but after six months or a year? Would he still feel liberated after endless days of grilling, cleaning, serving, ordering, accounting, and payroll? Doubtful.

  But satisfied? Proud? Complete?

  Man, it was hard to say. But he was pretty damn sure it would feel great to walk away from trading and New York.

  And to walk into a place that meant something.

  3

  The crowd had thinned to family and very old friends, and they’d gotten into the liquor. Sadie had even downed a shot of tequila herself, closing her eyes and focusing only on the tang of the salt and the pull of the lime afterward. Sadie counted as family, but she couldn’t stay any longer. She was as overdone as a hash brown that had gotten loose and gone multiple rounds in the fryer.

  Rita was sitting between her sister and a cousin, so Sadie squeezed her shoulder. Rita patted her hand.

  “The kitchen’s clean, and I replenished the desserts,” Sadie said. “All you have to do is stick what’s left over in the fridge.”

  Rita wriggled out of her seat and stood. “Why does it sound like you are leaving? You should stay. You know you belong here with us.”

  Sadie smiled. “I know. But I’m toast.” She felt Jake’s eyes on her from the other end of the table, but kept her focus on Rita, who also looked tired, but not teary. Oh, Sadie knew the woman had her moments, but overall she seemed to be a pillar of strength.

  “You holding up okay?” Rita asked.