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“Damn it, Layla,” I growled. “What part of ‘don’t say it’ was unclear?”
“The part where you expected me to do what you told me to.”
Like I said, a stubborn little hell raiser. I couldn’t even imagine how Mason felt. She wasn’t giving it up either.
Layla waited until the waitress walked back into view and hissed, “Ask for her number, you idiot.”
“No.”
“I’ll do it if you don’t.”
“Don’t you fucking—”
“Miss?” Layla called, completely ignoring my growled threat. I started to panic as the woman walked over and gave Layla an expectant look. “I’m sorry to keep calling you Miss. I didn’t get your name.”
The waitress let out an adorably nervous laugh as her eyes flickered to mine before straightening up so her name tag was visible. I read it myself before she announced it to Layla, rolling the word around in my mind.
Juliet.
A pretty name for a beautiful woman. I was no Romeo—I was nowhere near young enough to be so idealistic—but I’ll be damned if I didn’t want to pretend that I could be. Just for a little while.
A hard kick landed on my shin beneath the table and brought me back to reality. I suppressed my irritated growl as I looked to Layla. I could see her eye twitch before her head minutely tilted toward Juliet.
I cleared my throat and choked out, “Hey.”
Holy fuck I’m such a moron. Layla was right.
The poor girl looked bewildered, like she was waiting for me to place yet another order on top of the dessert I had coming. I realized I had no idea what Layla had said to make her stick around, but whatever it was had clearly directed their attention to me.
This was the kind of situation that would have made me blush twenty years ago. Thankfully, I was way too old for that shit now.
Pretty Juliet was not, however. The reminder of the obvious age difference as I took in her pink cheeks put me off a little, but not enough to keep me from what my gut—among other things—was screaming at me to do.
“Would you…. Can I get your number?” I asked, clearing my throat when her eyes went wide. “If you’re not seeing someone, of course. I…. Fuck, I probably should have asked that first.”
Juliet recovered from her surprise quickly, shaking her head as she said, “No, no. I’m single. I…. Yeah. Yeah, sure.”
There was a brief pause where we both clearly didn’t know what to do, but she thankfully took the lead and dug the pad back from her apron. She jotted down a name and number and handed me the paper, her cheeks flaming.
“I’ll call you,” I said quietly, ignoring the smirk I could see on Layla’s face in my peripheral vision.
Her eyes flickered to my sister-in-law for a brief moment before her mouth parted to say something else. There was a moment of hesitation during which she licked her lips and I nearly groaned at the sight.
I really wanted to be her Romeo.
But it was far more likely that I’d end up being the beast to her beauty.
Before she could speak, her name was called by a man I presumed to be her manager. She muttered an apology before she turned away, pausing only to ask, “I’ll talk to you soon?”
“Yes.”
I watched her disappear into the back and finally looked to Layla, frowning at the look on her face. Her lips were pursed and her nose was scrunched up like she tasted something sour.
“What’s with the look?”
“I’m trying very hard not to crack a joke about your complete lack of smoothness.”
I scoffed and rolled my eyes. “Got her number, didn’t I?”
“Only because you’re handsome,” she replied with a grin. “I totally want to be there when you call her to arrange the date. I can already imagine the awkwardness.”
“You want to chaperone as well?”
Her eyes lit up with delight. “Hell yeah!”
“I don’t know how Mason puts up with you,” I groaned as I reached for my water.
I was chugging down a few gulps when she said, “With a great deal of patience and a lot of spankings.”
I had to cover my mouth to keep from spitting my drink out.
