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“At three p.m.”
“Yep.” I handed the papers to him and darted around him, headed straight for the door.
THREE
By the time three o’clock had rolled around, I wasn’t doing much better. In fact, I was more overwhelmed with the memories and thoughts than when I’d left the restaurant just twenty-four hours ago.
But somehow, Nico and I made it through the night with only a few accidental bumps and minor purposeful touches veiled as innocent. Despite the night being a bit slow, time ran by. Partly due to me getting caught up talking to the head chef, Beckette. She initially ran me through the menu, teaching me about the different options and other things I should know when it came to the food side. By the time we finished, we’d ventured off into her giving me tips and information on where to go—and not to go—in this town.
Nico and I even made it through closing the bar without incident. We just kept our eyes off each other and a safe distance apart.
Hell, the next couple of days went similar. I was so busy with making sure I remembered everything—maybe I used it as an excuse to avoid Nico. But it was working.
Was.
Suddenly, it was Friday night. It had been an exhausting shift that was non-stop drinks. The paper in the well printer had to be changed mid-shift because the server orders would not stop coming in. We silently seemed to agree that I was making the server drinks and he was taking care of the people at the bar, keeping a safe distance.
It wasn’t just that though. It seemed like Nico was actively avoiding me. He wouldn’t even look at me when he asked me for something. And if he did, his eyes would dart away from mine.
There was one time that he slipped his hand along my lower back, gently at first. And then it was gone, and he’d already retreated back to the patrons.
And it was frustrating the hell out of me. Just days ago, we were both on the same page about how, sure, there seemed to be a connection but that we had to focus on work instead.
And now, he was avoiding me so much that I was beginning to think it was all a joke to him. That he was just trying to either get in my pants again or that he’d been lying before and trapped me into being vulnerable.
I tried not to dwell on it too much. I couldn’t handle my insecurities interrupting me trying to do my job. I just had to barrel through the rest of the night, close the bar, and get some sleep. And then, I would talk to Anthony about being on different shifts. Why? I’d figure out a good excuse later.
Finally, the restaurant began to die down, giving me my first chance to escape. I took the opportunity to take out the trash and maybe a few minutes to clear my mind.
When I made my way back in, there was only one table left in the restaurant, leaving the bar itself empty.
I maneuvered around Nico, who had been texting someone on his phone, still ignoring me.
Or I thought he still was. Finally, he acknowledged my presence and came towards me, obviously wanting to say something.
“You know it’s not nice to tease, right?”
“What?” I narrowed my eyes at him.
“Your shirt. I’ve had to force myself to look anywhere else when you even slightly bend over.”
“I’m not wearing this for you. I’m wearing it because it’s my best work shirt.”
“Well, I can see why. It helps with the tips. But there’s no one else here but me so, getting hard to believe it’s not for me.” His eyes darted up and down.
I followed his gaze down one time, realizing that one of the buttons had popped open and not just my cleavage was showing.
“Shit!” I spun away, fastening the button as quickly as I could. It must’ve popped open when I was cleaning.
“You don’t have to do that on my account.” Nico’s voice was low, skating through my hair.
“Well, these aren’t for you.” I retorted.
“Okay.” Nico pulled back, walking away from the bar, and leaving me in utter confusion.
What the fuck was he pulling? Was he trying to torture me?
Frustrated, I grabbed the last full dishpan and brought it into the dishwasher. “Thanks, Della.” He commented as I set it down.
