Oh crap. I turn to Tammany. “I can’t wait the tables with him there. Can you serve him?”
“What’s going on?” Logan, the manager says. Probably the only person in Starlight Bay who doesn’t know the full details of what happened last night.
“Nothing.” I squeak. And before he asks anymore questions, I grab my pen and pencil from the pocket in my apron and make my way into the restaurant.
My skin prickles as if everyone’s eyes are on me, but there’s only one set of eyes I see, and they’re his. Chief Sparks. My fantasy and nightmare rolled into one.
I wipe the moisture from my top lip as I pad closer in my ballet flats. The sound of my tights rubbing together between my thighs and the pounding in my ears is all I hear. That, and the blood rushing from my head, making me dizzy.
Flint clears his throat as he looks between me and the menu, his lips pressed into a thin line, his cheeks reddening as if he’s just left a burning building.
“Have you come here to embarrass me further?” My voice cracks, but I lift my chin, determined not to let him get the better of me this time.
“I have a routine inspection,” Flint says, his tone perfectly even, like he didn’t practically devour me with his mouth less than twelve hours ago.
Routine inspection, my ass. “Well, I’m fine. You can leave now.”
“I haven’t had my coffee yet.”
Arlene nudges me with her elbow. “Here you go, Chief. One black coffee.”
“Thanks, Miss Bennett,” Flint says.
Arlene smiles and leans towards me as she turns her back to him, whispering behind her hand. “You think he came to check your smoke alarm?”
I elbow her gently, my face burning. “Shut up.”
She tucks her red hair behind her ear and moves to the next table.
Flint’s gaze sweeps across the room full of sniggering customers before he looks back at me. He doesn’t smile. Of course he doesn’t. His jaw’s tight, eyes unreadable. All business.
But there’s a tiny spark in his eyes that makes my pulse skitter.
I clear my throat and plaster on my best waitress smile. “Can I go now, or are you here to inspect my apron for safety hazards?”
A muscle in his jaw jumps. “Just doing my job.”
“Oh, right.” I shove my pencil and notepad back into my apron. “What job’s that? The one where you insist on being afather figure, or the one where you continue to make me feel like a stupid kid?”
Flint balls his fists, the air between us tightening. “Can we talk?”
“We are talking, aren’t we?”
“Please, Sera. Sit.”
My heart does a weird flip when he orders me around, but he has another thing coming if he thinks I’m gonna roll over and obey. “Or what? You gonna throw me over your shoulder again?”
The corner of his mouth twitches—almost a smile, but not quite. “Depends how difficult you plan on being.”
The whole room goes silent. Even the coffee machine seems to pause.
Flint clears his throat. “We can talk outside if you’d prefer.”
“What I’d prefer is for you to leave town and never speak to me again.”
He rises from the seat. “You don’t mean that.”
I roll my eyes at my own stupidity. Of course, I don’t mean that. What I’d prefer is that he admits in front of the whole restaurant that he loves me and can’t live without me and wants me to be his girlfriend and have his babies. But the dude wouldn’t even let me finish his hand job. He’s a stubborn shit who drives me insane, and I hate him for it.
