But I’m out there working my ass off so other families can enjoy those things.
And to make sure my conscience shuts the fuck up.
I look up at the waitress in front of us, and almost can’t believe it when I see who it is. My lips twitch into a sneer.Of fucking course she’s waitressing.
Nash always gets himself the gold diggers.
I don’t know how many times I have had to get rid of one of them for him.
I love my brother, but he’s about as mature as a teenager on prom night. Sure, he’s got charm and can crack a joke, but when it comes to serious stuff, he’s as shallow as a kiddie pool, and when he wants to fuck, he gives zero fucks about the consequences.
And I’m the one to clean up his mess afterward.
It’s always about what he can give them, or in this case, what she thinks she can get fromus. I size her up, taking in the apron tied neatly around her waist and the way she’s holding the menus with a practiced smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. She’s new, a variable I haven’t accounted for, and I dislike unknowns.
Everyone has an angle.
“Hey, pretty girl,” Nash greets, grinning over his whole face as if it’s Christmas morning.
I fucking knew it.
There was just no way a woman like her would jump into bed with Nash without some ulterior motive. She’s way out of his league and nothing like the usual giggling airheads he tends to hook up with. She knows who we are and thinks the weakest link would be the best way to get in. I’ve never seen her here before, but it seems that waitressing alone doesn’t pay her bills.
Her smile wobbles, just for a second, before she recovers. It’s almost impressive if not for the slight chill in her voice as she asks, “How many are dining tonight?”
Nash turns to me as if he doesn’t know the answer, or maybe he’s just too stunned that she didn’t just throw herself at him, and his brain has momentarily short-circuited.
“Three and a half,” I reply calmly, watching as she leans slightly to the side to get a better look behind me.
Is she that blonde?
“The child,” I add, nodding to Lio.
“Of course, sorry,” she responds, a hint of embarrassment coloring her cheeks.
It’s not often I see her type thrown off their game. I shouldn’t enjoy it, but I do, just a bit.
We settle at the table she guides us to, and she hands out the menus. Her demeanor shifts when she speaks to Lio, her voice softening, her smile genuine. It’s a stark contrast to the mask she wears for us. “Would you like a menu too, or have you already decided?”
I furrow my brow, puzzled by her addressing him as if he’s old enough to answer.
“I’d like the fish sticks, please,” Lio answers her, his voice soft but steady.
She smiles warmly at him, and Hunter affectionately pats his hair.
“Good choice,” she compliments, but her smile fades as she turns to the rest of us. “Do you all need a moment, or…”
I find myself studying her.Is there something real beneath the act?
“We’ll have the daily special,” I cut through the pleasantries, my impatience to leave this place growing. Then I hand her the menu back, and Hunter follows suit. When Nash hands his menu over, he reaches out and grips her wrist.
Her reaction is immediate, her body tensing like a cornered animal. She recoils, and Nash lifts his hands in a hasty retreat.
“Sorry,” he murmurs, his voice apologetic, but the damage is done. Even her fake smile is gone, her jaw set in a tight line.
I watch the exchange, a part of me wondering what battle she’s fighting behind those wide, startled eyes. For a moment, I almost feel something akin to pity. But it’s fleeting.
“It’s fine,” she replies, though her response is strained, and her teeth are clenched.
