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“Five years ago, if you remember.” Jensen cocked a brow from his position to the right of me as he looked up from the menu.
“Was I unclear?” Ian murmured, the tone hard and biting as arctic ice. “You are ours,Mary Peterson.” The sneer within his words as he emphasized my fake name wasn’t subtle as he glared me down. “Now, are you going to take our order like a good girl?”
“You’re not in my section,” I countered, cocking my brow. The sass was thick within my words, but my smile stayed plastered on my face. Only they were close enough to hear how I was speaking to them, and I had to keep up appearances. As much as I wished they were in my section, I was at work, playing the part of the good Mary Peterson, and it was difficult to keep up the facade when I was being reminded of the woman I missed being.
The smile Ian gave me was minuscule, but the mischievous glint within his gaze set me on fire. I saw the tension in his shoulders, chest, and arms as he sat poised within the booth. He was a predator waiting out his prey, and my skin pebbled in a wash of goosebumps at the reminder that in the end, Ian got what he wanted. Always. And in this case, that was me.
“Might want to check that with your coworker then,” he told me, waving a couple of fingers in dismissal.
“This conversation on our relationship status isn’t fucking over, Ian,” I countered, enjoying that I had the last word as I jutted out my chin and spun on my heel.
“Your order’s up,” Charlotte muttered, waving a hand over her shoulder as I neared the kitchen.
“For the large party? Mind giving me a hand?” I asked, watching her discreetly as she nodded. A small frown turned her lips down, and she glanced over at my guys briefly before following.
“Did you need any help with table three? You know, since you’re helping me lug all of these entrées out.” My question was innocent enough, hiding my true intent which was to fish for information.
“Uh, no. They requested you as their waitress. You know them or something?” she questioned haughtily, not doing a good job of concealing the jealousy, her lips pursed as she lifted her tray.
I huffed out a breath as I lifted a second tray and snagged a stand with my free hand, holding it in the crook of my arm as we marched out into the dining room. “Or something,” I muttered in response.
She didn’t bring it up again as we stopped at the party, plastering fake smiles on as we set down our load and began to pass out dishes to the large group. As soon as we were done, I purposely moved towards Ben and ignored the three men watching my every move.Let them wait, I thought. It wouldn’t kill them. “How’s it going over here?” I asked pleasantly as I noticed someone else had been by to drop off his entrée. “Is there anything else I can get you?”
“Delicious,” he exclaimed, pushing his stacked plate of silverware and dirty napkin away. “Don’t know if I’ll get dessert or not. If I do, what do you suggest?”
“Well, our apple pie isn’t too bad, and it comes with ice cream, or you could go with a chocolate mousse cheesecake—everyone likes chocolate.” I suggested the two most recent additions to the menu. “I really enjoy the apple pie myself because it always seems just a bit bigger than the cheesecake.”
Ben grumbled, holding his lean stomach. “I’m super full. Next time, though, I’ll for sure have some of that. I think just the check this time.”
“Coming right up.” Giving him a bright smile, I went to the register and printed up his bill, stuffing it and a pen into the sleeve. “Here you go, no rush. As always, though, it was good to see you. Thanks for coming in.”
“Ha, couldn’t keep me away from this place even if you tried,” he joked. Chuckling, I walked over to the guys, all of whom were blatantly staring at this point and not even trying to hide their interest. Though, within their heated gazes and cocky grins, I didn’t miss the suspicious and hard stares they kept throwing toward Ben.
Flashing a sugary sweet smile, I pulled out my notepad. “What can I get for you guys?” I questioned, my tone as fake as the smile that strained my cheeks.
They rattled off their orders, our interaction almost normal as I scribbled it all down. I narrowed my eyes when not a single one of them pushed me or commented on my attitude. As soon as I had their orders down, they turned back to each other, choosing to converse amongst themselves and wait for their food. Though, as soon as I turned away, I could feel their eyes on me. Every moment, every conversation, I felt them watching despite their demeanor.
As time passed and I continued to work, they didn’t say anything more than the cursory ‘thank yous’ when I stopped to drop off their drinks and food. Even though they certainly stayed longer than any normal table, choosing to order that apple pie I’d mentioned to Ben earlier as well as a round of coffees, they kept up the facade. I grew accustomed to them. The staying and the watching. It was like a warm blanket on a cold night, and the sensation of safety flowed over me as I worked.
My gaze flicked over to them as I finished cleaning off the long party table—the giant group having left several minutes before. I scanned their tabletop, noting the half-eaten slices of pie and the nearly empty coffee cups as they talked. Throughout my shift, they’d been careful not to act too familiar—other than initially asking for me to be their waitress. But that wasn’t good enough. They couldn’t fuckingbehere.
“Mary,” Archer called as I walked by, cutting off the beginning of my spiraling thoughts, “what are you doing after work?”
“Going home and going to bed. Why?”
“We were wondering if you wanted to grab a drink with us, you know, like old times. Especially seeing as how you’re legally old enough now.” Well, there went the idea that they were trying to be subtle and discreet. At least he’d remembered to use my fake name.
“Are you … asking me on a date?” My brows drew down, confusion filling me at the fact that they asked instead of just demanded.
“Don’t sound so shocked,” Jensen murmured, his lips twitching as he silently laughed at me.
I debated. I knew what the right thing to do would be. Turn them all away and hope to God that none of us had been compromised. Could I do that, though? Could I send them away? I’d been alone for so long, and from the way things seemed, they’d been watching me for a while, hadn’t they? If we were going to be compromised, it would’ve happened by now … right?
“Mary?” Archer repeated the name, tilting his head to the side.
“Maybe tomorrow night,” I finally answered.
“Why not tonight?” Archer leaned forward on the table, close enough that I could feel his breath wash over the exposed skin of my arm. “Have another hot date?”
