CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“We’re tag teaming lunch again?” Jamie’s question comes from behind me, and I jump jerking the coffee pot but without spilling any of the hot liquid inside.
By the time I turn around to face him, there’s a genuine smile in residence on my face. “Yup, it’s the dream team together again." I smack him on the arm with a move that’s so reminiscent of my mother my breath hitches.
My new coworker doesn’t notice my slip and turns back to the other side of the counter to start our prep for the upcoming lunch rush. He balances on the heels of his feet and leans into the case, his muscles flex stretching his black polo shirt as he moves plates around. I might spend a few too many minutes watching him with my back against the opposite counter.
The restaurant is peaceful now so my time isn’t interrupted with a needy customer. It’s the quiet time of day, the time that pays the least in tips. People stop in for a muffin or coffee — quick orders that don’t require them to sit. Then as we get closer to lunch, everyone eats lightly so they can get back on the move.
No one wants these shifts so as the two newest employees, Jamie and I are here to pick up the slack. Amanda set me up with the interview where Bonnie hired me on the spot and I wasn’t in a position to turn it down. I’m just thankful Bonnie's a dog person and her little Yorkies were involved in a taste test Amanda set up for the dog food company she and Aspen work for.
Jamie pops up from where he’d crouched on the floor. “Do you feel comfortable with taking tables on your own today?”
“Absolutely.” For about twenty minutes this morning Frank, the kitchen guy, and I were alone. I handled my two tables without any problems. I’m getting the hang of this whole waitressing thing.
Jamie reaches behind him and pulls out a tray. “Do you think you’ll use a tray today?” He smiles with his question and my face heats instantly.
I guess he did notice my apprehension of them yesterday. I reach out and take the small black round disk of torment from him. “Sure.” I try to sound confident but my eyes fall to the stationary implement of destruction with fear.
“Great!” He either doesn’t notice my hesitation or decides to ignore it. Either way I’m grateful. “You take tables one through six, and I’ll get the rest.”
The diner only has fifteen tables, but the first six are in a close cluster and make it easier to keep up. Plus, I’m glad he didn’t make me split it fifty-fifty with him. I’m ready, but I might not bethatready yet.
The bell attached to the door rings while I stuff my order book in the pocket of my mint green apron. I pat Jamie on the arm to let him know I’ll seat them. The tile floors have been washed or even waxed since yesterday and I slip a little around the counter corner, but use it to gain speed. I’ve practiced the move all morning, a little fun never hurt anyone, but I hope it doesn’t become a hazard when it gets busy.
I skid to a stop before I reach the tall customer by the front door as he waits to be directed where to sit. Trey Frickin’ Good. I almost stomp my foot in annoyance, but I won’t let him know he’s gotten the best of me. I sneak a quick look behind him to make sure he hasn’t brought along his favorite redhead and, after finding empty space, continue in his direction.
“Trey, what can I help you with?” Here’s hoping he’s not here to eat.
His lips stretch into an impossible grin, so large it takes up much of his face. I’m annoyed at how pretty it makes him. Well, not pretty. Handsome. Kind maybe. Argh, I must not allow myself to have these thoughts about a jerk.
From the small chuckle he tries to cover up, he notices my agitation at him being in my diner. The fact he finds it funny only upsets me more.
“I’m looking for some lunch. Where should I sit?”
I want to tell him there isn’t a place here for him, but besides the one occupied table in the back, we’re deserted. It probably wouldn’t do me well to turn away a customer on my second day. Rather than shoo him out the door, I release an exaggerated sigh and turn to sit him in Jamie’s section. At least then I won’t have to talk to him.
He starts to take off his black fleece but stops before we’ve taken three steps. “Actually, Sim, can I sit by the window?”
No. No. No. Of course he wants to sit by the window in my section of tables. And Sim? I don’t think so, that nickname is not going to fly.
The size of my scowl matches his smile as I lead him to a seat by the window. He’s so smug. It’s annoying. Now that Trey knows I work here, he wasn’t supposed to come back. He is persona non grata when it comes to Bonnie’s. Why is he here? Is making me wait on him some perverse turn on of his?
He has his black fleece off by the time we make it to the small table. His black button down shirt’s tucked into his khakis highlighting his trim waist, and I do my best not to let my eyes linger. Isn’t there a Karma law against this?
I stare at his nose so I’m not making eye contact, but also won’t start fantasizing about how he’d look shirtless. Trey must notice the dueling emotions of anger and lust as they play across my face probably making me look like a psycho. His smile decreases a slight amount, not so much a normal person would notice, but I’ve glared in his direction long enough, I’m aware.
“Look, Simone I didn’t come here to upset you. Can we talk?”
I scoff at his question. “No. Believe it or not, Trey, I’m working.”
He rests both his hands on the table. “Well then I’ll wait until you’re done.”
“I have six hours of my shift left.”
He looks up at me from his seat and lifts one shoulder. “I’ll wait.”
“For six hours?”
