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“Oh, Mr. Bridger.” Barbie gasps as she takes in Coal. He’s still holding on to my arm, and I start to pull away. His hand slides down my arm and takes my hand in his, holding me tight. I try to shake him off.
“I’ll get you water.” I push the words past my thick tongue, needing a moment.
“Yes, get them water.” Barbie directs me. Again, I try to pull away from Coal, but he holds my hand tight. “Mr. Bridger, please let her do her job.”
“I didn’t get to introduce myself.” He turns toward me, and his blue eyes darken as he looks at me. “I’m Coal Bridger.”
“Kiera.” I drop my gaze so I can’t see the intensity of his. “Nice to meet you.”
I step away and make my escape as soon as he releases my hand. I grab a pitcher of water and two glasses that weren’t on their table. Barbie walks past me, bumping my shoulder and causing water to slosh out of the pitcher and on to my shoes and sleeve. I grit my teeth and make my way back toward the table. I focus on where I’m walking but I can feel Coal’s eyes on me as I approach. He doesn’t take them off me while I pour water for Mr. Rumble.
“To answer your question, Mr. Rumble, yes, I got Mr. Bridger’s gift. Thank you.” I nod at him and turn to Coal. I focus on the table instead of him as I fill his glass. He clears his throat, and I move my eyes up to his after I set his water down. “I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Bridger. Your father was a very nice man; he’ll be missed.”
“You’re the only person other than Lee who thinks Earl was nice. What did he do for you?” He growls again, and I step back and retrieve my notepad.
“What can I get you gentlemen tonight?”
“Kiera, I’ll have a scotch neat, please. Tell whoever’s at the bar, top shelf. Same for Coal here. Also, get him the prime rib special, medium rare. I won’t be staying for dinner.”
“Mr. Bridger, mashed or baked potato? Seasonal veggies or salad?” I ask the questions for the sides. “Would you like a different drink with your dinner?”
“Baked with butter and sour cream. Salad, ranch on the side, no croutons. I’ll have water with my meal,” he says, his eyes taking me in again.
“I’ll get your orders entered. Another server will bring your drinks.”
“No,” Coal says. “I want you to serve me.” My spine straightens. Does he like people to serve him? Does he have the ego others accused his father of having, which I never saw?
“I can’t bring you your alcohol order,” I say and storm off.
?
Coal
I watch my little pixie walk away from me. Her body is slim, almost to the point of unhealthy. I want to make her sit down and eat the meal with me. When I had her hand in mine, I wanted to pull her into me. I wanted to mark her as mine so everyone would know. But her trembling body told me someone has scared my pixie. I’ll protect her with everything I am.
My pixie?
Where the hell did that come from? Something about her calls to a part of me I have never felt before. Her body isn’t curvy, and it’s completely covered, unlike her manager, who has her cleavage on full display. But I could see her tight ass through the slacks that molded to her.
“Coal, Kiera is only eighteen; she can’t serve alcohol to us.” Lee’s voice breaks through my thoughts.
Eighteen! Legal. I want her, and I will do everything I can to have her.
Another server walks up to our table, this one in tighter black slacks, impractical high heels, and her breasts straining against the tight white button-down shirt. The top few buttons are undone, and her gray tie is loose around her neck. Kiera’s uniform was perfectly pressed and completely practical, down to her shoes with a low heel. It’s the illusion of what is under her clothes that is the sexiest for her.
“Mr. Bridger, can I get you anything else?” The server purrs, and I curtly tell her no. I look across the table to Lee again.
“Tell me about Kiera and my father?” Something bitter enters my throat at that thought. What is their connection? My father was nice to her. He got her gifts. Were they involved?
“Your father took a shine to Kiera after she started working at the cabins cleaning them. Something about her mother being a friend to your mom. Plus, most people around here don’t like Kiera.” He raises his brow in question, and I can tell we’re thinking the same thing.
Why don’t they like her?
I watch as Kiera floats through the dining room serving others. She smiles but it never reaches her eyes. It’s as if she is sad all the time. She avoids looking at our table, and I want her undivided attention on me. When she delivered my salad, she took another drink order from me. But Lee wanted to talk about my mother’s gallery, which kept me from talking to Kiera. Plus, she had food for other tables to deliver. I can see the small muscles in her arms flex beneath her sleeves.
Lee and I discuss meeting up on Monday to sign papers. Before he takes off, he lets me know a cab will take me back to the house. As he walks out, Kiera makes her way toward me with a large tray on her shoulder. She’s weaving around everyone with ease. She passes me to grab a stand that she kicks open before setting her tray down. I notice only my food is on her tray.
“Can I ask you a question?” I lean back with my hands resting on my stomach, fingers laced so I don’t reach out and grab her again. Her eyes roam my body and I’m instantly turned on. The shock to my system the first time I touched her was bigger than the adrenaline rush I get when I jump out of airplanes.
