Chapter 11
Scooter pried himself out of bed at fuckme o’clock on Memorial Day. Friday had been a good night, steady. Saturday had been crazy and Sunday had been so bad that they’d all collapsed as soon as they shooed the last customer out the door, deciding en masse to do cleanup in the morning. Which was a dumb damn decision, and they made it every f*****g year.
He practically cried, leaving the cradle of his bed and pulling on clothes. When he dragged himself into the restaurant kitchen, Kat was already there. She hadn’t done anything yet, but she was there, which had to count for something. She glanced at him, then poured a cup of coffee. And then she poured a Five-Hour Energy into the coffee and shoved it at him.
Which counted for everything.
“God, Kat, you have to marry me,” he sa
