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Kat
I’m not a waitress.
Why did I have to say that? How dumb am I?
I’ll get an earful if Miss Barry hears about this—and this could end in another complaint about my “unsuitable behavior.”
I can’t afford another complaint. I can’t afford to lose this job! I’ve never earned this much money before. This could be my way out of poverty—if I’m smart about it.
Smart, Katherine! Not feisty and audacious!
And why would I snark athimof all people? The hottest man who has walked in here all week and the only one whose presence sends an electric shiver down my spine? I noticed him right as he entered the room, and I haven’t been able to look away ever since. He’s attractive in an edgy way, alluring, and mysteriously dark. It’s no wonder I can’t keep my head straight.
I receive our order at the bar—his Scotch and avodkasoda for myself—and take a deep breath before I turn around and return to him.
This man is just too much. All tall and out of this world handsome with his mysterious eyes, chiseled jawand that intense gaze. His dark hair is styled in a trendy undercut, revealing a scar on his left temple that matches the tattoos peeking through at his collar and his right cuff. He looks dangerous, full of sin and secrets.
A bad boy in a suit—just my type.
He screams trouble.Delicioustrouble.
And he is so much younger than the other patrons in here. I realize that anew when I meet his expectant gaze with a polite smile, before I place the drinks on a small side table in front of him. He can’t be much older than myself.
“A Skinny Bitch,” he comments, eying my drink with an amused smirk. “A little disappointing.”
My heart drops and I let it show on my face as I sink down into the leather armchair next to him.
“Disappointing?” I wonder out loud, my voice a little more high-pitched than usual. “How so?”
Hescrunches his eyebrows and suggests a shake of the head.
“It’s so common, such a cliché for girls like you,” he says. “I guess I was expecting something a little more creative.”
Girls like you.
I would love to ask him what he means by that, but I know I wouldn’t be able to pose the question without being snide, so I don’t.
“Well, it is a classic,” I argue, as I take my seat next to him. “Much like a Scotch neat.”
“Touché,” he retorts, as he reaches for his glass. “Guess I’m not that unique myself.”
“Oh, I would like to differ, sir.”
I add a seductive wink to my words, just like I’ve been taught — but he ignores my remark and raises his drink to me. We clink glasses and I take a very careful sip, while he empties half of his Scotch in one swig. Even the way he drinks is mesmerizing. His motions are so nonchalant, so incidental yet considered and assertive.
I hope to God he doesn’t notice the way my cheeks blush when he turns to meet my observant eyes.
“Not having a good night?”he wants to know.
I put on my best hostess smile when I reply: “What would make you think that, sir?”
“The look on your face,” he explains. “You look like something is bugging you.”
Fuck.That is the last thing I wanted to hear.
“Must have been the light,” I try to save myself. “Sometimes the shadows in here play a little trick on you.”
“Fine, let’s pretend that’s true.” He shakes his head. “Tell me a little about yourself.”
