Read No Shoes, No Shirt, No Spells (Mystic Cafe Series) for Free Online

finally made my feet move forward. It was as if I was on a conveyor belt, walking and walking, but making no progress. Each step seemed to carry me further away.
     
    Finally, I lunged from behind the counter, making a dash for his booth. It was as if everything played frame by frame. Glasses no longer clanked and conversations stopped as all eyes no doubt focused on me—the lunatic owner flying across the café floor.
     
    As my eyes met his confused and alarmed stare, I reached for his burger. My hand made contact with the bun and I swatted, making the bun and meat fly from his hands, before they landed in the middle of the hardwood floor.
     
    My arms flung out as I stumbled and grabbed the air, trying to save myself. The moment seemed as if it moved in slow motion, frozen in time. Gasps echoed around me—probably Mary Jane and the nosy women at table six. The surroundings appeared fuzzy, as if my eyes couldn’t focus, yet I made out every detail around me. My arms and legs felt as if they were weighted down with cement.
     
    I put out my hands to stop myself from falling. He reached down to grab me, but missed. My lips parted to gasp in air and a high-pitched yelp escaped my mouth. My face met with the floor as I fell at the edge of the booth, my mouth practically coming to rest on his work boot. The smell of Lysol from the freshly mopped floor made my stomach turn, as if I weren’t already sick enough. My cheeks burned as if I’d been caught making out in the backseat of my parents’ car.
     
    I grunted and turned my head to the side only to see his green eyes peering down at me. Okay, I’d wanted a closer inspection of him, but I hadn’t wanted to make an ass of myself in the process. The heat from his gaze ran through my body.
     
    Silence filled the space except for a stifled snicker from the other side of the room. I shot an evil glare in the direction of the young dark-haired girl. She darted behind her menu. I stared around the room at the frowning expectant faces. The old ladies gave me a disapproving shake of their heads.
     
    He didn’t ask what the heck I was doing, or call for the men with the white jackets...at least not yet. Instead, he leaned over me with his mouth agape and stared for a beat. Finally, he grabbed my arm as I shuffled up from the floor, brushing off my pants to allow time for my face to return to a shade lighter than fire-engine red.
     
    My mind raced a million miles a minute, trying to conjure up a logical explanation as to why I had knocked the food from his hand like a deranged freak. I had none. Not one logical thought. I might as well just tell him I was crazy, it sounded much better than the truth.
     
    “ Are you all right?” His brows drew together in a puzzled frown as he continued to hold my arm. With his gorgeous green eyes fixed on me, he waited for an answer.
     
    “ I--I—I’m sorry about that. I gave you the wrong order,” I muttered, like a complete fool.
     
    I looked to his friend who sat staring at me with the same confused and astonished look on his face.
     
    His eyebrows rose. “No, I ordered a cheeseburger and I’m pretty sure that’s what I was eating.” He placed emphasis on the word was . He gently released his hand from my arm.
     
    “ Oh, well, um, I’m sorry about that. My bad.” I held my hands up in surrender.
     
    Yes, yes, it certainly was my bad. If only I could have melted into the hardwood floors, then I’d escape the mortification. I limped over and reached down, grabbed the burger and bun, then scooped up the pickles one by one.
     
    “ Are you okay? Did you hurt your leg?” he asked with a concerned look on his face.
     
    “ I’ll be fine. I’ll walk it off.” I gently placed the bun and meat back on his plate. “Let me get you another one. It’ll just take a minute.” I wiped the mustard and ketchup from my fingers onto my apron, then took the plate from his table. What a way to make a great first impression. I had one