Daybreak in Sandbridge

Chapter 2-1

Chapter 2

Andy was almost, almost tall enough to reach the light fixture while he was standing on one of the long picnic tables in Dockside’s dining room. Almost.

But not quite.

He folded his arms and glared at the shorted-out fixture. It was an easy five-minute fix, as soon as he could get his hands on it, he was pretty sure—there was a similar fixture in Scooter’s private kitchen that had blown just last week, and it had only needed to have a bit of patching on one of the wires.

Their private kitchen, Scooter would correct, but some part of Andy was always going to think of the Dockside diner and the private residence on the second floor as Scooter’s. Especially since there were three rooms that Scooter kept closed. Andy was pretty sure one of them was the master bedroom, the room that both Scooter’s parents had died in, but he wasn’t sure what the other two were—or even a hundred percent sure which one was the master. He’d tried asking about them once and Scooter had asked if they could hold off on the discussion for a while. Andy figured it wasn’t important enough to push the matter—they didn’t need all that much space anyway—but it did add to the feeling that it was Scooter’s house and Andy was just living in it.

Not that he wasn’t grateful for that. Living with Scooter these last couple of months had been pretty damn great.

Andy reached for the fixture again, just in case he’d grown another three inches or something in the last thirty seconds. Nope, no dice.

Just as he was glaring at it, Kat pushed in from the kitchen carrying a big tray of napkin-rolled utensils. “You must hurry,” she told him. “They are not back yet, and lunch prep must be done soon. And I must wipe your shoe prints off the table before a customer sits there.”

Andy twisted around to look at the big clock on the wall behind the register, and frowned. Scooter had promised he and Jason would be back in time for the lunch opening; they could wing it for half an hour or so without Scooter, if they had to, or without Jason, but no one else who worked at Dockside had quite mastered the grill, and a diner without a cook was pretty useless. He fished his phone out of his pocket, but there weren’t any messages. He sighed and put the phone away.

“Okay,” he told Kat. “I just want to get this one light fixed, it’ll only take a minute. Hey, drag one of the porch chairs in here, would you?”

Kat narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you going to put a wobbly chair on the table with gaps between the boards and then stand on it?” she asked, voice dangerously smooth.

“It’s really not as hazardous as you’re making it sound,” Andy said. “Come on, I thought we were in a hurry.”

“We are,” Kat said. “Which is why the light can wait until the afternoon lull, or even until tomorrow, when we can get the ladder and do it properly.”

“Ugh, you’re no fun.”

“Down,” Kat said, pointing at the floor beside her like she was talking to Trick.

Andy rolled his eyes, but clambered down off the table. “Is this a thing that happens when you get married?” he wondered. “You get all safety-conscious and boring? Because if so, I might have to tell Scooter that we have to call off the wedding and keep living in sin for another decade or so.”

“Are we calling off the wedding again?” Scooter mock-sighed, coming in from the kitchen door, several bags hanging from his elbow. “What now?”

“Marriage has drained away Kat’s sense of adventure,” Andy explained, giving Scooter a quick kiss hello. “We can’t risk becoming staid and dull.”

“Oh, well, that’s fair,” Scooter allowed, a smile teasing at the corner of his mouth. “Guess the wedding’s off, then.”

“Only because I do not want Andrushka to topple over and break his head on the floor,” Kat said haughtily. “Go on, Andy, tell Scooter what you were going to do, and see how much sin your living has in it then.”

Scooter looked from her to Andy, eyebrow raised.

“It was nothing,” Andy said, waving a hand around airily. “Just a little improvisation that Kat seemed to think was unsafe, because she’s old and married and boring now. Not to mention cruel,” he directed to Kat, pressing his hand over his heart. “I knew you were heartless, but wow.”

Jason pushed the swinging door open, but just leaned around it to eye them all. “Much as I appreciate the charm of verbally abusing my wife,” he said drily, “I understand we’ve got some sort of business to run here? Maybe we should think about getting on with it?”

Andy rolled his eyes and stuffed his screwdriver into his back pocket. “Such a nag,” he grumbled at Jason. “You two deserve each other.” He headed toward the kitchen to get on with his portion of the prep, but Scooter caught his arm and tugged him back.

“I would be very put out if you broke your head on the floor,” he said mildly.

“Good thing that wouldn’t have happened then,” Andy promised. He kissed Scooter again, letting it linger for just a moment longer. “We were just playing. Promise, honey.”

“Good.” Scooter said. “Guess that means the wedding’s back on, too.”

Andy huffed a huge sigh. “If we must.”

“We must.” Scooter kissed the pout off his face, then swatted his ass and grinned unrepentantly at Andy’s yelp. “Now get to work.”

Andy was already pushing through the door to the kitchen when Scooter called after him, “Oh, almost forgot—there was a letter for you in the mail.”