“She’s with a sitter. Because I’m working.”
“Well, I can come home with you ... later.”
“I don’t think so, Drew.”
She pursed her lips, and her dumb fucking tight-ass bun taunted me. I wanted to grab the purple tie she wore around her neck and yank her close, kiss that pissy look right off her face, bury my tongue in her mouth and sink my free hand in her hair.
“To talk,” I lied.
“I’m not ready. I agreed to the tennis lessons, but that’s it. Look, I have to go. I have other tables.”
“I still want my Scotch, and I’m going to order some food.”
She turned without saying a word.
A few minutes later, some asshole arrived with my drink and asked if I needed anything else.
“Of course,” I told him. “But I’ll wait for Claire to put my order in.”
That was pretty much how the evening went. I barked drink orders at Jules, and she sent other people to deliver them. She dumped my steak in front of me, and it wasn’t clear whether she’d been aiming for my lap.
The back-and-forth left me pretty much wrecked and sauced by the time her shift ended.
“I’m finishing up for the evening, so if you want to close out your bill ...” She stood beside my table, her arms crossed, surveying me with a dirty look. “Or I can transfer it over to someone else.”
I whipped out my black card and handed it to her. “I’ll close out.”
When she returned with my bill, she said quietly, “I’m going to call you a cab. You’re drunk, and I don’t want that responsibility on my hands.”
“You drive me. Please, Jules.” I stood and misjudged, rattling the table, sending the leftover ice sloshing in my tumbler.
“Drew.”
When she came close, I could smell her perfume. It reminded me of sea and beach and sand. It was new on her, but I liked it anyway.
“My sitter is waiting.”
“Tell her to wait. I’ll pay.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out my money clip.
“No. Why would you do that?”
“She’s my daughter, Jules, that’s why. And you’re waiting tables in a steak joint to make ends meet. That’s further why,” I said, and leaned my head onto her shoulder.
“Don’t.”
Sadly, I listened like a scolded puppy and moved.
“One second.” She walked to the side of the restaurant and pulled out her phone.
I watched her fingers graze the little screen, typing quickly, and imagined she was running them over my chest and into my pants ...
Shit. I ran my hand over my face and got my head straight. I was hoping to talk. Not touch.
Maybe just a little?
When the screen in her hand illuminated with a reply, she said, “Come on,” to me and pointed toward the back exit.
I waited for her while she gathered her stuff, and we walked out into the night air. It was muggy and humid enough, but when I saw Jules finally let down her hair, I found it hard to breathe. She yanked on the hair tie and all her red glory fell around her face. I searched for her green eyes in the lion’s mane in front of me.
