Ididn’t get giddy about men. I certainly wasn’t infatuated with them.
Noteven when they said the sweetest things and turned out to be so much more thanI ever gave them credit for. Not even when they looked like a demigod andtasted like sin.
Noteven when they were Wyatt fucking Shaw.
Fromthis moment on, I would get over him and this new and sudden attraction betweenus. I knew I kept saying that, but this time I was for real.
Wyattwas becoming a problem I couldn’t afford to ignore. A problem that felt too bigand too complicated to solve. A problem that also felt like a solution. I shookmy head and decided I needed to stop trying to figure it out, figure him out.Mostly, I needed to stop kissing him.
AndI would. I would stop all this nonsense and put my career back on the pedestalwhere it belonged and forget about my crazy, stupid, hot boss.
Starting…now.
Chapter Twelve
“Sonof a bitch!” I shouted at the full glass of Diet Coke that slipped from myhands and crashed to the ground. Miraculously, the glass didn’t break thanks tothe rubber mats beneath my feet, but I did end up with sticky soda all over myshoes.
Myshoes would never be the same. Damn it.
“How’sit going over there?” Vera called across the kitchen.
Ibit my tongue to keep from telling her exactly how it was going. Because thatexplanation would have involved more expletives. An excessive number ofexpletives.
“Haveyou ever bussed tables before?” I called back, already knowing the answer. Atleast I thought I knew the answer.
“Iran a food truck, sweetheart,” she sassed back. “I worked the whole damnoperation by myself.”
I rubbedthe sole of my shoe on my pant leg, hoping to wipe off the remaining liquid,then I set my foot down and realized that my pants as well as my shoes were wetnow. So there was that. “Yeah, yeah, you’re superwoman. But have you everbussed tables at a real restaurant before?”
Theentire kitchen burst to life with “oohs” and “burns” and someone even snuck an“oh, snap” in there. I blushed but held my ground.
Vera’shead tipped back, and she laughed at my dig. “Can’t say that I have.”
Oureyes met across the busy kitchen. “We’re not paying our bussers enough money.They deserve a pay raise.”
Sherolled her eyes at me while the two bussers on shift cheered loudly.
“You’rea bad influence,” Vera scolded. “You’re going to start a riot in my kitchen.”
Ilooked around at the staff unable to suppress a smile. They had warmed up to mea little. Not a ton. I mean, they weren’t ready to throw down arms for me likeVera suggested, but they didn’t totally hate me now. I was making progress.
Ineeded more time though. Ezra was coming back soon. I had hoped to inspirefierce loyalty to the point where maybe they would strike if I didn’t get thejob. At this point they only barely tolerated me. Steps in the right direction,but not good enough.
AndVera hadn’t even moved me to the kitchen yet.
Iwiped my forehead with the back of my hand and reached for the dish caddyagain. “I better head back out there. Stay calm, everyone! We’ll save theuprising for next week.”
Verathrew her fist in the air and laughed. “Keep up the good work, grasshopper.”
Inthe dining room, I waved at Christian and got back to work clearing off tablesand wiping them down, so they were ready for the next group of people.
Iknew from last week that Sunday was one of the busiest days thanks to the all-dayhappy hour policy at Sarita. It was a genius business plan and something Liloudidn’t offer.
Althoughto be fair, Lilou didn’t need added incentives for diners. The drinks at Lilouwere good, but people came to have their minds blown by the cuisine.
Saritahad a more laid-back menu and the atmosphere was vivacious, primed for drinkingand having a good time. Plus, the cocktails were the best in the city—that’show she was able to survive so long with her former chef.
Tonightseemed even crazier than last week though. The constant stream of peoplethrough the front door hadn’t let up in the several hours I’d been here. Myfeet were already sore, and I smelled like salsa gone bad. The spilled drinkcoating my legs and shoes didn’t help.
