Wet (Elemental 1) (14 page)

Brooke scrunched her lips as she watched him. She knew she
knew him from somewhere, and it was eating at her. Perhaps he was a customer
that she hadn’t seen in a while? No, she decided. That wasn’t it—at least not
exactly.
But then where do I know him
from?
It was really beginning to bother her, and even that seemed strange.
She didn’t usually dwell on something that could be brushed off as déjà vu.

But then he turned his head, without moving the rest of his
body, and met her gaze solidly. They were standing several yards apart, too far
to be heard if they tried talking at a casual level, but there was no doubt
that he was staring straight at her. And in his not-quite-glaring brown eyes
Brooke found her answer: This was the same man who’d come in to the diner that
one time with Emma, nearly two weeks ago. She recognized him as much by his
face as by the sudden nausea in her stomach.

Then the man turned completely, releasing her from his
stare, and began walking up the beach. He never removed his hands from his
pockets, and his walk was calm yet brisk as he made his way to the parking lot.
Like a man with a purpose.

Brooke watched, her stomach still churning, as he moved
steadily toward a Crown Victoria that was parked apart from the crowd of
vehicles. She swallowed heavily, realizing her breathing was slightly uneven,
her eyes still riveted on the unknown man. It wasn’t until he had ducked into
his car and pulled the door shut that the strange spell released her, and
Brooke turned promptly back toward the sea.

Dragging in a deep, ragged breath, Brooke gasped, “Who was
that?” It was only the second time she’d seen the man. The second time she’d
wished she had never been so unlucky. But something about this encounter was
worse. Before, she recalled, she had blamed his irritatingly superior attitude.
Now, however, she was thinking it was more than that. It wasn’t so much his
attitude as it was
him
—the man
himself was repulsive and terrifying, though she had no solid reason to feel
that way.

Maybe I should ask
Georgia if she ever figured out anything else about that guy,
she decided
as she released another heavy breath.

When the water around her ankles shifted slightly, Brooke
blinked and looked down, expecting to find a strand of seaweed stuck to her
ankle or something. Instead, as she watched, the water rolled and curved,
pulling entirely away from the sand and pushing forward in strange patterns.
And then, all of a sudden, the patterns solidified. The bare patches of sand
had formed words.

EVERYTHING OKAY?

For a moment, Brooke could only stare at the words in front
of her. Obviously, Blake had seen at least a piece of her bizarre behavior. It
eased away the lingering uneasiness to know that he really was watching. She
felt her lips begin to curve into a faint smile, and then it dawned on her that
she didn’t know how to respond. He’d told her once—because she had actually
asked—that he couldn’t hear through water. So she doubted speaking would work.

Well, in that case,
she decided even as the tide rolled in again and washed away the words as if
they’d never been. She turned to face the tower, which was almost directly
behind her, and lifted her hand to wave up at him. She didn’t know if he could
see her expression or not, but she added a smile for emphasis. It was hard to
tell from her distance, but she was pretty sure she saw him nod a moment later,
so she lowered her arm.

Brooke turned back to the water and sighed. It was true
that she no longer felt nauseous or uncomfortable, but she also no longer
really felt like swimming. Her good mood had definitely gone down several
notches. “So much for this.” Telling herself she would try again another
day—though it might have to be later in the afternoon—she turned and began
trudging back up the beach.

With her head down, Brooke didn’t realize that Blake had
climbed down from his tower to meet her until he called out to her. Her head
snapped up in embarrassed surprise, and she met his gaze even as she adjusted
her course to meet him.

“What was going on down there?” Blake asked before she
could say anything.

Brooke hesitated a moment, deciding whether or not she
wanted to sound utterly ridiculous. “Did you see that guy? The one who was
standing over there?” She pointed to the area where he’d been.

Blake’s eyes shifted to follow her finger for a moment
before returning to her. “The guy in the slacks? Yeah, I saw him walking away.
Why?”

“It’s stupid,” Brooke warned with a sigh. “He came in to
the diner with Emma Matthews about a week and a half ago, give or take, and I
remember he didn’t seem overly friendly. He was never actually rude to me, but
something about him just sort of … freaked me out, I guess. Anyway, I hadn’t
seen him since until a few minutes ago, and he stared at me with this really
intense, uncomfortable look in his eyes. And then he just walked away.”

“Did he say anything to you?” Blake asked, a frown curving
his lips at the edges.

Shaking her head, Brooke replied, “Not this time. And the
time before he only spoke enough to order his food. I don’t suppose you have
any idea who he is?”

It was Blake’s turn to shake his head. “No. I think I’ve
seen him once or twice, but I can’t place him. You said he was there with
Emma?”

“Yeah. Do you know Emma?”

“She’s Angela’s boyfriend’s older sister,” Blake explained
with a faint nod. “Maybe Angela would know who he is—if this guy’s ever around
when she’s over there.”

Brooke pursed her lips, remembering what Georgia had told
her. “Who
knows.
My friend Georgia is pretty close
friends with Emma, and Emma wouldn’t tell her anything when she asked.”

Blake arched a brow. “That seems like an odd thing to keep
from your friends.”

“The whole thing was strange,” Brooke stated, easily
recalling that night.

“How do you mean?” Blake asked.

With a half-shrug, Brooke replied, “Well, I walked up to
the table at one point in time to catch a bit of their conversation. I don’t
remember the words now, but whoever that guy is, he seemed pretty upset about
something. Even Emma wasn’t very friendly that night.”

Releasing a frustrated breath, Blake said, “That does sound
strange. I’ll try to remember to ask Angie about him the next time I talk to
her.”

Snapping back to her senses, Brooke held up her hands,
palms forward. “Oh, no, you don’t have to do that. I mean, it’s weird, but it’s
not like he’s ever threatened me or anything. Seriously, you’ve done plenty for
me. Don’t worry about this.”

Blake hesitated, frowning more at her words. After a long
moment, he finally said, “All right … but let me know if you see him around
again—especially if he does anything strange. And remember, we’re dating, so
it’s not like it’s inconvenient for me if you need help.”

Her heart fluttered again as her arms returned to her
sides, and Brooke smiled. “Deal.”

Chapter Fourteen

Georgia all but slammed into the back room, purse clutched
tightly in one hand. Her other hand was lifted, patting at her dark red hair in
an attempt to smooth it. Her tone was exasperated as she exclaimed, “Holy
Mother of God! It’s a madhouse out there!”

Brooke offered her friend a sympathetic smile. She had only
navigated her way to the back a couple of minutes prior; the memory was still
fresh. “It’ll be worse tomorrow.” she pointed out.

“Don’t remind me. Is it too late to call in sick?”

With a bitter chuckle, Brooke replied, “I think so. I’m
pretty sure Paula would call the doctor to confirm it.”

“Why is Spring Break worse than every other holiday
combined?” Georgia asked rhetorically as she shoved her purse into her own old
locker.

“I don’t know if I’d go that far. But it is pretty bad.”

“You’re probably right,” Georgia admitted. Lifting her
apron from the bench in front of her, she asked, “Do you ever wish you’d taken
that job at the grocery store?”

“Nope,” Brooke replied a heartbeat before the door to the
backroom opened once more and Paula stepped inside.

Both women paused, their hands stalled mid-air, and watched
as their supervisor pulled the door shut and leaned against it with a heavy
sigh. Without even opening her eyes, Paula asked, “Do either of you ladies have
any idea what’s gotten Ed so worked up today?”

Georgia and Brooke exchanged a brief look before Brooke
stupidly asked, “He’s upset again today?”

Paula opened her eyes and blinked at her silently.

“What do you mean ‘again’?” Georgia asked. “The only time
I’ve ever seen him upset was last year, when the cable company was giving him
the run-around.”

Brooke looked back and forth between them for a moment
before shrugging self-consciously. “Early last week, I think, he was having
sort of a bad day. He didn’t tell me about it, but he seemed fine the next
day.”

Paula released a breath and stepped away from the door.
“Well, whatever’s bothering him today has him in a real fit. Be careful when
you go in there. I’m
tellin
’ you, he’s got all the
other cooks in a tizzy.”

“Oh, joy,” Georgia grumbled as she resumed adjusting her
apron. “Nothing ever goes right when the kitchen’s messed up.”

“I just hope everything calms down by tomorrow,” Paula
said. “If that kitchen’s not running smoothly on St. Patrick’s Day, we’ll be in
real trouble.”

Brooke and Georgia cringed. They were both working long
shifts the next day, and Brooke doubted Georgia wanted to think about how much
harder it would be if the kitchen staff wasn’t on their A-game any more than
she did.

“All right, well, enough stalling,” Paula said, her tone
switching flawlessly to the closest thing she ever came to authoritative. She
moved to push the door open again. “You’ve probably both been seated by now, so
you’d better get out there.” And then she disappeared from sight.

“Have you ever heard a more motivating speech?” Brooke
asked.

With a light laugh, Georgia grabbed her notepad. “Yep. You
should’ve heard the speech my tenth-grade English professor gave us right
before our final.”

Leading the way through the door, Brooke replied, “Do me a
favor, and don’t talk about school right now. I can only handle so much at
once.”

Georgia laughed behind her as the women made their way into
the crowded dining area.

****

Most of Spring Break passed in a greasy blur for Brooke. It
was already Saturday, and she was working again, but this time only until
mid-afternoon. And she would have just enough time to run home and clean up
before her boyfriend picked her up. She couldn’t wait.

But first she had to get through her shift.

“I can’t wait until the college students go back to their
dorms,” Georgia declared as she met up with Brooke at the drink station.

Brooke laughed as she filled a glass with ice. “I hear you.
I’d completely forgotten what a nightmare Spring Break can be.”

Georgia reached for a straw, tearing off the wrapper as she
said, “That’s because it’s worse this year. I swear it is.” She paused in order
to focus on stabbing the straw through the ice without damaging it, and then
she asked, “Is enrollment up this year?”

Pulling her glass from beneath the tea dispenser, Brooke
replied, “I heard it was down, actually.”

“That’s impossible.”

Brooke offered her an understanding grin. She set the first
glass aside and reached for a second as she said, “Maybe we got more of Mimi’s
crowd this year.”

Mimi’s Kitchen was the other local non-chain diner in town.
Because of this, for nearly as long as the two diners had co-existed, they had
been engaged in a friendly rivalry. Brooke was pretty sure Earl’s Diner had
come first, but then again she’d only ever asked Paula, and Paula was just
slightly biased on the subject.

Georgia paused, her second glass just millimeters from the
soda tab she’d been aiming for, and turned to offer her friend a laughing
smile. “Well, in that case, I think I can suck it up for a few more days.”

Brooke set her two perfectly filled glasses on her tray.
“That’s good, because I imagine they won’t disappear until Tuesday.”

“Wait,” Georgia called as Brooke had turned to re-enter the
dining area. “I thought Spring Break ended on Sunday?”

“It does, but that doesn’t mean everyone goes back to class
when they should.” Laughing again at the look of horror on Georgia’s face,
Brooke looked forward and walked out.

She navigated to the table that had ordered the drinks,
setting the two iced teas in front of her customers before pulling out her
notepad and taking their orders. Once that was done, she turned to her newest
table and the young couple that had been seated while she’d been talking to
Georgia. She was nearly at the table before she realized that she recognized
them. Angela Hawke and Eric Matthews.

An easy smile in place, Brooke curved one hand over her hip
and said, “I’m not expected to chaperone, am I?”

Both teens looked up at her and grinned. Angela’s was
simple and honest, and Eric’s was lopsided and humorous.

“Hey, Brooke,” Angela said easily. “This must be our lucky
day.”

“I’d say so,” Brooke teased. “So how’ve you two been?”

Angela looked over at her boyfriend. “We’ve been good.”

Eric nodded. “Yeah.”

Brooke rolled her eyes teasingly. “Well, don’t go getting
all descriptive on me.” She paused and reached out to playfully nudge the
eighteen-year-old in the shoulder. “And you had better tell your sister I said
‘hi’ when you get home.”

With a faint laugh, Eric nodded again. “Yes, ma’am.”

Angela flashed Eric a smirk before looking up at Brooke
with a faux-innocent expression. “So you and Blake are official now, right?”

One of Eric’s eyebrows went up at this, and he turned a
curious expression to Brooke as well.

“Yes, yes we are.”

“Well, don’t worry,” Angela said, her lips twitching with
her effort to contain her laughter. “I promise to be nice to you. You see, I
learned from my mother, not from my brothers.”

Brooke echoed her laughter a moment later. “That’s
certainly a relief. I appreciate it.” She extracted her notepad and pen from
her large apron pocket. “All right, then, let’s see what I can get you so I can
leave you two alone.”

The teenaged couple ordered their drinks and their meals,
and when they were done, Brooke turned and headed for the kitchen. She had four
meals to put in for, and two more drinks to prepare. As she navigated around
Georgia, who was delivering meals to another table, Brooke spotted one of their
other regulars and offered him a quick smile and a wave before pushing through
the doors that separated the eating space from the working space.

She passed the drink station easily and let herself into
the kitchen. Ed was focused on slicing fish, so she opted to keep quiet as she
attached the slips of paper to the rotating metal ring. With that done, she let
herself out in order to get Angela’s and Eric’s drinks.

Brooke had finished Angela’s tea, and was in the middle of
filling Eric’s Coke, when the doors to the kitchen slammed open. The drink
station was oddly designed, and so anyone coming or going from the kitchen had
to be careful, or they could slam right into someone filling a drink. Because
of this, as Brooke started and turned in surprise, she was suddenly bumped by
someone’s side. The motion jarred her, her arm jerked, and the next thing she
knew Eric’s soda was all over her shirt.

But she couldn’t even focus on that, because almost as soon
as the pressure of the other person’s side had moved beyond her, she recognized
the yelling voice that belonged to him. It was Ed.

“—give a damn anymore! If you don’t like it, cook it
yourself!” Ed bellowed, stomping through the drink station even as he tore the
hair net from his head and tossed it angrily to the ground. He pushed through
the doors that led to the dining area as he continued yelling. “I’ve had it
with this place!”

Mortified, Brooke stepped away from the mess at her feet to
move to the still-swinging door that he had just stormed through. She watched
as every head in the diner—customer, server, and hostess—swirled in Ed’s
direction with wide, startled eyes.

Ed continued his stomping rampage through the diner, nearly
colliding with a costumer’s chair in his rage. “I hope this whole damn building
burns to the ground!” As he walked, he tore his chef’s coat off, ripping the
buttons and sending them flying like small missiles. He crumpled it haphazardly
in one hand and then pitched it at the register, forcing Shelly to stumble
backwards to avoid it. “I’m out!” Ed roared even as he shoved through the main
entrance. The doors slammed shut behind him, as if echoing his sentiment.

For a long moment, no one dared breathe.

Brooke shifted her gaze to lock eyes with Georgia, who had
been in the process of taking someone’s order and was still wide-eyed and
slack-jawed. As she shifted her gaze, she noticed belatedly that two of Ed’s
sous chefs had gathered a few feet behind her.

And then Paula came bustling out of the backroom. The sous
chefs moved aside quickly, Brooke pressed herself awkwardly to the door frame as
she had nowhere else to move, and Paula strode right past them. She paused in
the dining area, earning everyone’s attention, and after bending to retrieve
Ed’s discarded hair net, she said, “I’m so sorry about all of the commotion!
Please go back to your meals. I promise nothing like that will happen again. If
anyone has any questions or complaints, I’ll be happy to hear them in just a
few minutes.”

Everyone watched as Paula quickly moved through the diner,
paused to drop the hair net into the nearest garbage, and then pushed through
the door.

It was another long moment before anyone shook themselves
out of their shocked stupor. And then Brooke looked down at herself, realizing
she was still wearing Eric’s soda, and groaned faintly. She still had over an hour
left in her shift.