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She set her pen down, and her features soften. I knew that look, and it gutted me.
"Listen, hun. I know I said you guys would be getting better pay soon. Especially you. You're my hardest working waitress. But we have to update our refrigerators to meet the state's standards. And with the espresso machine being on the fritz at one of our coffee shops, I'm going to have to hold off on those raises for a bit longer."
I chewed the inside of my cheek as I swallowed her words. Trying to fight back the tears, I fidgeted with the apron and then folded my arms across my chest.
She tilted her head and raised her brows. "Just for a couple months. Promise."
I walked out to find Mallory trying to manage the small afternoon rush that came hurdling in. With my brain in a fog, my body went into robot mode as I helped with the rush. Eviction was very real right now. But I couldn't even worry about my home when my mind was stuck on Lincoln's situation. He didn't have a couple of months. His trial was fast approaching, and he still didn't have a lawyer. The thought of him spending fifteen years in jail for a crime he didn't even commit turned my blood to sludge. My stomach twisted and turned, and my feet were hightailing it toward the restroom in a blink of an eye. Twisting my hips through the sea of tables, a hand reached out and tugged my arm.
"I'm ready to order. The other waitress said this is your section."
My section? This is not my section. I shot Mallory a look, and she bit her lip before letting a smirk crawl across her lips.
Annoyed, I made eye contact with him for the first time. "Yeah, sorry, what would you li…" I trailed off.
He was a beast of a man, probably 6'3 at the least, with solid lean muscle. A dress shirt buttoned to the very top struggled to conceal his muscles. He flexed an arm as he lifted the menu, and I was certain they were bigger than one of my thighs. He had dark brown hair, short on the sides, and moussed messily on top with a scruffy jawline that could cut glass. Although every inch of this man froze me in my tracks, it was his eyes that melted my spine. The color fell between hazel and grey, dark-rimmed on the outside and stormy on the inside.
He raised a thick, dramatic eyebrow. "Hello?"
"Yes, sorry, what?" I asked as I cleared my throat.
A small smirk tempted the corners of his mouth. "I asked, what's good here?"
"Oh, right." I fumbled with my folder, pulling out the list of our daily specials on a crisp white and gold card.
Estelle’s cafe caught the eye of many business professionals due to its contemporary airy feel and light lunch menu. Of course, I dropped it on the floor. I bent to pick it up, and I swear I saw his eyes follow my butt in the movement. His eyes locked onto mine when I stood up, and he traced a finger over his mouth. Heat crept into my cheeks, and words fumbled off my lips.
"We have a wedge salad topped with bacon, blue cheese crumbles, grape tomatoes, and a balsamic drizzle. It's served with grilled sirloin. We also have The Bomb-Ass Chicken, which—"
"I'm sorry, the what?" he asked.
"The Bomb-Ass Chicken. Our cook named it. It's grilled chicken with honey mustard, bacon, sautéed mushrooms, and sharp cheddar cheese," I said.
The look on his face let me know he wasn't convinced, and he sliced his gaze back to the menu in search of something else more edible and with a normal name.
"Which do you prefer?" he asked, his voice low and gritty.
"I like it all," I blurted out. I regretted the words immediately when his subtle smirk tugged into a lopsided grin as his eyes raked over me. As if to say, of course, you do.
"I'll go with the club sandwich." He flipped the menu card back over before sliding it in my direction.
"Any sides with that?" I kept my eyes on the pad, refusing to get lost in his intoxicating gaze.
"Like?" His words dangled in the air.
Trying to sound like an intelligent human being and not one who hadn’t learned to speak, I inhaled before rambling off the most basic options. "Umm, fries or fruit or something sweeter…"
"Sweeter?" The gritty yet dignified flow of his words made me catch his gaze.
I blushed involuntarily and pathetically.
I took his order back to the kitchen before he even responded to my question about sides and stuck the sheet onto the hook. What the hell was that? Men usually never threw me off, but something about this one had my palms sweaty and pulse racing. I took a deep breath to calm my nerves when the door flew open.
"Holy hell, talk about a snack!" Mallory blurted out before the kitchen door even swung shut.
I gave her a look, my face heating up all over again. I patted my apron down, straightened my ponytail, and pretended I was capable of acting normal. "If you're so into him, why did you give the table to me? He's in your section."
"Because I have a boyfriend." She rolled her eyes.
