It was a foolish notion. He was a bad boy from way back when.
“Oh, hey! Ma’am, can we get some crab cakes and shrimp?” some asshole bellowed at my back.
Ma’am? I’m a ma’am? No way. Freaking back room.
I ran my hand along my forehead, pushing back nonexistent stray hairs, and out of habit, tightened my bun. It wasn’t messy anymore. These days, I wore it low and perfectly round, like my carefully constructed persona.
I tried to make myself nod, confirming the shrimp, and leave.
“I’m sorry, did you hear me?” the same ass grumbled.
This was exactly why I hated working the private room. It was always a bunch of entitled pricks.
My head twisted to my right where the asshole’s comments came from. I only turned partway and was about to speak, but there he was, Drew King, standing next to a heavyset man. The one I presumed to be the mouthy jerk.
Drew stood tall, more tanned than I remember. His hair was cropped shorter and maybe was a shade darker, and light stubble covered his chin. Yes, his eyes were still as blue as the sea, and they stared back at me.
I looked around the room in an effort to control my growing panic. Surely everyone saw me drowning, yet no one tossed me a life preserver.
My brain screamedHelp! Run!but my heart nailed my feet to the floor, making it impossible to move an inch.
“Sully, seriously,” he said to his friend, “it’s not necessary. She’s obviously waiting for us to finish our drinks.”
I thought that’s what I heard him say, I couldn’t be sure. My heartbeat was pounding in my ears, and my lungs didn’t want to work.
“No, you’re right. I can grab you the appetizers,” I finally choked out. As quickly as I could, I turned and began to push open the door.
Where the hell is Paul?
A burning fire broke out on my shoulder. No, not a fire, it was Drew’s hand singeing me through my shirt, straight to the bone.
I wanted to yell for water, for a fire extinguisher, but that would have been too literal. I knew the burning was coming from inside. My heart was engulfed in flames.
“Jules?” He held me still, his fingers gripping my shoulder almost painfully. “What is this? A joke?”
He gestured with his free hand, indicating my black slacks, and then flicked at my tie.
“What the fuck?” The last part was a whisper, his eyes nasty and violent, a storm brewing deep behind his dilated pupils.
How could this be happening? I’d made a life, a lonely one, but a life. He loved the farmhouse and the west coast of Florida. Why was he in my restaurant? Here in my little bubble where I served the wealthy so I could raise my daughter—by myself.
Without him.
“Claire? You good?” Paul said as he finally showed up. “I’m sorry, one of the steaks I delivered for your table wasn’t the right temperature and I had to run it back.”
“Who’s Claire? You’re not Juliette Smith? I could’ve sworn you looked just like her.” Confused, Drew frowned at me, his brow furrowing as his eyes searched mine.
Maybe I can pull it off?I thought, but that was stupid. That was the kind of immature thinking that came from exiling myself, from running away and refusing to keep up with the times and with social media.
“Same eyes, green as the grass. Red hair. And those lips,” Drew murmured to himself.
If I didn’t know him and all that we’d been through, I would’ve taken him for a crazy person.
Paul finally grew some balls. “Excuse me, but would you mind removing your hand from her?”
Drew released his grip on me and looked deeper into my eyes, maybe even into my soul. “Jules? I know that’s you. Aren’t you a vegetarian? What in the hell are you doing working in a steak place?”
I think I nodded. Twice. Or maybe it was one really long nod.
