I barked a laugh. “Eat first. Press later. You get a break soon?”
“Breaks come after tips,” she deadpanned. That guarded edge returned, as though she couldn’t afford friendliness for free.
I picked up half the sandwich and took a bite big enough to quiet my stomach. It tasted perfect. She hovered, probably waiting for approval.
“Best it’s ever been,” I said once I swallowed. “Tell Lionel he nailed the ratios.”
She nodded.
“And tell him you need to eat too,” I added, trying not to sound as irritated as I felt at her lack of nutrition. “Don’t take this the wrong way, because you’re gorgeous. But you look like you’re running on fumes.”
A flush crept up her throat. “I’m fine.”
“I bet.” I rested my elbows on the table, the sandwich in my hands momentarily forgotten. “But we have the staff meal code on the register for a reason. Use it.”
Her chin lifted, her polite smile frozen. “I don’t like charity.”
I sighed. “It’s not charity. It’s policy.”
Those hazel eyes narrowed, but it was so slight I would have missed it if I hadn’t been watching her so closely. “The owner’s prerogative?”
“It’s for everyone, Rylin. Not special treatment.” I let a beat hang there, wondering what past bullshit made her flinch at kindness.
“Hmm,” she hummed as a reply.
“Sit with me for a few minutes. I’ll make sure nobody yells.”
“No special treatment?” she drawled, her hazel eyes wary once again.
“I’m a walking contradiction,” I offered with a grin. “Linebacker turned sandwich tycoon. A Rubik’s cube in cleats.”
Her lips flattened like she was suppressing a smile, but then she took a step back and shook her head. “I still have tables I’m taking care of. Maybe another time.”
I let it go because her shoulders were stiff, and I’d learned long ago you can’t tackle trust. You have to coax it. “Fair enough.”
When she walked away, I ate slowly, again watching every interaction because I couldn’t fucking look anywhere else. She remembered the patrons’ names after the first introduction, squared off with a Wall Street prick who complained the pastrami wasn’t keto, and grabbed extra crayons from the hostess to entertain a fussy toddler. She was sunshine with a backbone. And fuck, I wanted her.
Halfway through my meal, my manager came over to say hello. I asked her about Rylin.
Tammi cocked her head, her expression curious, but she must have realized I wouldn’t be explaining and moved on. “I can’t really tell you much beyond what she put on her application. Her work experience started in an Upstate town I’ve never heard of, then she moved to the city a couple of years ago. Her references all checked out. She only left her last job because the restaurant closed. It was a small, family-owned business, and the owners retired.”
“Nothing else?” I pushed.
“I can tell you that the customers frequently stop me to compliment her, and Lionel can’t stop raving about her organizational skills.”
She stopped again and waited for me to respond, clearly hoping I’d explain my interest. I didn’t. Instead, I changed the subject to the few business items I’d planned to go over with her before I left. When we were finished, she went back to work.
Rylin returned when I had nothing left to pretend I was still eating.
“Need anything else?” she asked, all business, which was as cute as it was frustrating.
I smiled conspiratorially. “Nothing that’s on the menu.” She blushed, and I felt like I’d just won something, though I wasn’t quite sure what yet. “Maybe tomorrow.”
Tossing a couple of hundreds on the table for her tip, I slid out of the booth and stood at my full height. She had to be at least five-eight, but with the way I towered over her, she seemed dainty. The lack of meat on her bones made her look delicate, like I could break her with a simple hug. However, after observing her for the last hour, I knew she was made of tougher stuff.
She held my gaze for a few seconds, then turned and busied herself with clearing the table. When her eyes flicked to the bills, she froze, then she looked up at me with a frown.
“That’s too much. I don’t?—”
