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It’s just too bad I found out the hard way that I didn’t really have many real friends.
Erin. And now Rylan. Though I wouldn’t mind if we were more than friends, even though I know that isn’t going to happen. Not when he very firmly friend-zoned me the other day.
But I’ll take being friends with Rylan over nothing.
I glance down to read Erin’s text; she’s wishing me luck on the new job, and I quickly respond.
Thanks! I’ll text you after my shift. Cross your fingers I don’t drop pasta on someone and get fired!
Three dots flash.
LOL. Just make sure it’s white sauce and not red.
I’m smiling at the phone when Rylan says, “Are you ready to go?”
He stands up from the couch, looking extra hot in khaki shorts and a short-sleeve button down that stretches across his pecs. His hair is damp and shiny and he’s trimmed his beard, which emphasizes the strong line of his jaw and cheekbones. He flashes a swoon-worthy smile at me and I sternly command my cheeks not to flush.
“I’m ready.” A rush of nerves hits me. I’ve never been nervous when I started a new job before, always confident in my skills and abilities. But this time is different.
Halfway to the front door, I hesitate. “Do I look okay?”
Rylan turns, his gaze sweeping over me. There’s a pause, long enough for me to get nervous about his answer, before he says, “You look amazing, Charlie.”
I’d think he was exaggerating, except his eyes say something different. Intense and dark, a forest at twilight, filled with a depth of feeling. But what?
Affection? Appreciation? Interest?
There’s no time to dive into it, because my job is waiting. So I tuck that little look he gave me into a corner of my mind to be pulled out and examined later.
“Now remember, I don’t want you to be alone with anyone. Make sure there are always at least two people in a room with you. Okay?”
I look up into Rylan’s somber gaze. “I know.”
“And if anyone gives you trouble, I want you to hit the earring. Do you remember how to trigger the alert?” Rylan stares at me, his arms crossed, biceps bulging, looking appropriately intimidating. As we stand outside the entrance to the restaurant, he’s back to Special Forces protector mode, giving me instructions before heading into battle.
I touch the earring lightly. “Press the middle of it hard. Right?”
He nods sharply. “Yes. Don’t worry about breaking it. And don’t worry about a false alarm, either. If you get a bad vibe from someone, if there’s anything that seems off, just trigger it. Okay?”
I can’t imagine what could be dangerous about this cute little Italian restaurant, but I can’t be mad about him worrying about me. “I will. I promise.”
Rylan touches my forearm, his thumb rubbing lightly across my skin. “I’ll be at the bar the entire time. So if you need me for anything, I’m seconds away.”
“I know.” I glance at my watch and take a deep breath. I’m reluctant to leave Rylan’s reassuring presence, but I can’t be late on my first day on the job. “I have to go in.”
“You’re going to do great.” His serious expression transforms into an affectionate one. “And when you’re done, we can go home and I’ll let you kick my ass in Grand Theft Auto.”
“Oh!” I grin at him. “So you’re admitting that I beat you all those times?”
Shaking his head at me, Rylan laughs, his eyes twinkling. “I admit nothing. Now”—he pulls me in for a hug, his arms strong and comforting around me—“get in there and kick some butt. I’ll be right behind you.”
I’d really like to stay here with Rylan. But that’s not an option, so I squeeze him tightly before pulling away. “Thanks, Ry.”
Once I get inside and meet up with the manager, Jase, the next hour moves quickly. First, there’s the huddle at the start of the shift, when he introduces me to everyone—I get a few hard stares and suspicious glances, but that’s all—and goes over the specials and promos.
I’m paired with an older server, a woman named Janet who’s worked there for eight years, and she’s technically my trainer but she really just stays in the kitchen and makes me do all the work. Which is fine with me. After waiting on three tables, I hit a nice rhythm, everything coming back to me, and I even manage to keep a smile plastered on when someone whispers, “Slut,” as I pass by their table.
Rylan is stationed at the bar, an untouched drink in front of him. He’s pretending to work on his phone but every time I pass by his eyes are on me. I was worried about him sitting at the bar for so long—my shift is five hours, after all—but Rylan just said, “Don’t worry; if I tip him enough, he won’t care.”
