I winked and cut off whatever she was going to say. “Keep it, sweetheart.”
My tone was firm, but I kept it gentle because big men plus volume equals fear, and something told me she’d had enough of that in her life already.
“I can’t.” She grabbed the money and tried to hand it back. “It isn’t?—”
Shaking my head, I murmured, “You earned every dollar, babe. You’re fast, you’re kind, and apparently, my guy in the kitchen can’t stop raving about how you organize ticket strings. Think of it as me investing in my own business. Take it.”
Her lips parted like she wanted to argue, but then the fight drained out of her, although the stubborn tilt to her chin remained. “Thank you.”
That stubbornness? Yeah. I was hooked.
But she also had a softness that hit me harder than any tackle. I gave her a slow nod and left her standing there, clutching those bills like they might burn a hole through her palm.
From behind me, I heard the hostess tease, “Girl, if you don’t keep that, I will,” and Rylin’s quiet laugh sent a throb through my chest.
Outside, the late-afternoon heat slapped me in the face. Traffic honked, scaffolding creaked, and somebody cursed a delivery driver for blocking the bike lane. White-noise I’d learned to love from living in New York.
I stood a second, replaying every moment with her. The hunger in my gut was gone, replaced by a different ache entirely.
As I walked north on 11th Ave, my mind was already rewriting tomorrow’s schedule. Lift, practice, meetings…then back here at shift change to see if Rylin Curtis got any sleep. Maybe force her to take a break and eat.
One thing was for certain, I knew where I’d be tomorrow…and the day after. Unless I was at an away game, I’d be there every damn day until she trusted me. I’d spent years waiting for a woman who felt like forever. And for the first time in a long damn time, I wanted another conversation.A real one. With her.
I wanted Rylin Curtis.
And I’d keep showing up until she realized I wasn’t going anywhere.
2
RYLIN
Iwiped down the last table in my section, feeling every hour I had worked today. I was beyond exhausted from burning the candle at both ends, but at least I’d be headed home soon. The Tight Line was finally emptying out, a few stragglers lingering near the counter while the kitchen crew scrubbed down for the night.
I tried not to let my mind drift back to him.
The linebacker was built like a brick wall, with the kind of look that would’ve easily launched a career as a male model. With his blond hair, blue eyes, chiseled jaw, high cheekbones, and a freaking chin dimple, he was gorgeous enough to make any woman walking by stop to take another look. And that was before they noticed how tall and muscular he was. He was literally hot enough to stop traffic.
“Earth to Rylin.”
I blinked and straightened, realizing I’d been wiping the same clean spot for way too long.
Derek leaned against the booth next to me with a smirk, his arms crossed over his apron.
“You planning to buff a hole into that table?”
I forced a laugh. “Sorry. Long day.”
He snorted. “No kidding. We were swamped.”
“It was definitely busier than a usual Monday.” I patted the front pocket of my apron, where I kept my cash tips. “Exactly how I like it.”
He nodded. “Yeah, we’ve done good business ever since opening, but I’m hoping now that football season has started, it’ll get even better.”
I felt my cheeks warm as I remembered the reason The Tight Line would get busier—the owners. Or more specifically, one of them. Micah Daughtry. “That would be great.”
Busier was definitely better for my finances, but my pulse was still fluttering half an hour later during my train ride home. And there was still a tiny hitch in my breath each time I remembered how Micah’s eyes had softened when I told him my name.
I had to keep reminding myself that men like him didn’t choose girls like me. He was a pro football player who made millions, and I was a server in the deli he owned. A girl with overdue bills and way too much on her shoulders.
