Her mouth quirked like she wanted to argue, but didn’t have the energy. “What’ll it be?”
“I know I shouldn’t, but I had a hell of a workout today. So, I’ll take my Monster Melt, extra pickles. And you,” I added, leveling my gaze on her, “grab something for yourself. I know your shift ends in twenty minutes, and I’d bet my next paycheck you’re working a double tonight.”
Rylin huffed. “I told you, I?—”
“Policy,” I cut in, gentle but unmovable. “You’re going to eat, Rylin.”
A sigh slipped past her lips. “Fine.”
The small victory felt huge.
While I waited, I pulled the deli’s profit-and-loss statement up on my phone, pretending I cared about the uptick in cured-meat costs when all I really did was steal glances at her. Every time she slid a tray across a table, I found new details—the way her knuckles whitened when she lifted a bus tub that weighed half what she did, the soft sweep of freckles across her cheekbones, and the elastic hair tie at her wrist holding an extra pen.
When she finally set my sandwich in front of me, the scent of melted provolone hit me like play-action. My stomach growled loud enough to make her laugh.
After I took a moment to let the sound wash over me, I picked up the melt and took a bite, then sighed happily as the flavor of black pastrami, caramelized onions, provolone, horseradish cream, and grilled rye filled my mouth.
“Good?” she asked with a small smile.
“I’ll let you know once I come up for air.” I took another massive bite, closed my eyes, and hummed. “Lionel outdid himself.”
She eased a water glass onto the table, and her fingers trembled just a little. Probably low blood sugar, which happened when you skipped meals. I swallowed and nodded toward the pass-through. “Order in for yourself?”
Her cheeks flushed. “Yes. Happy?”
“Ecstatic.”
That almost coaxed a laugh again, but she turned away too fast. I let it go and continued eating my sandwich. WhenRylin disappeared into the kitchen, Tammi slid into the booth opposite me, arms crossed.
“You’re hovering,” she said without preamble.
“I prefer ‘strategic observation.’ Sounds less stalkery, more executive.”
“Uh-huh. Let me know when your executive duties involve inventory instead of heart-eyes.”
I scowled. “No one’s seeing heart-eyes. I’m being subtle.”
“Yeah, right. Nobody’s buying this undercover routine.” Tami snorted. “You’re a six-foot-five freight train in a crowded station, Micah. Subtle left the platform three stops ago.” Then she leaned in, her voice softening. “She’s good people, Micah. Don’t spook her.”
“I have no intention of spooking her.”
Tammi arched her brow, unconvinced, but before she could say anything else, I glanced at the pass-through to the kitchen and spotted Rylin carrying a chicken-avocado wrap nearly as big as her arm. She was walking toward the hallway that led to the employee break room. I quickly slid out of the booth and jogged over to the door, entering the back just in time to intercept her. “This way,” I said as I steered her back to the front and over to my table.
Rylin opened her mouth to protest, but I shook my head. “Sit with me. Ten minutes won’t kill the ticket count.”
She hesitated, her gaze flicking to Tammi for backup. My manager just shrugged, trying to hide her smirk. “Owner’s orders, honey.”
I patted the seat across from me. “C’mon, babe. You’ve fed half of Manhattan, now feed yourself.”
Her shoulders dropped a fraction in surrender. She set down her food, then slipped into the booth, her cheeks pink with embarrassment, and her eyes skating everywhere but my face.
I poured iced tea for her, pushed the cup across the table, and waited until she took a bite that was big enough to crack the tortilla.
Only then did I pick up my own sandwich again, trying to focus on it, rather than the growing bulge between my legs with every bite she took.
She chewed, swallowed, and muttered, “You don’t have to babysit me.”
“Not babysitting.” I kept my tone easy, which took effort since I was fighting off pictures of that blissful expression on her face while I buried myself inside her over and over. “Call it quality control. Can’t have my best server passing out on the floor.”
