Page 5 of My Three Billionaire Rockstars

I’ve dealt with far worse than three rich, handsome men with culinary opinions.

“Willow,” Lara says as she slides the plates toward me, “try not to start a war in the dining room.”

“No promises.”

I balance the tray on my shoulder and weave my way back through the tables, dodging elbows, coffee mugs, and Bill’s habit of sitting farther out than any human being reasonably needs to.

By the time I reach their booth, Leather Jacket is saying something low enough that I don’t catch the words, but I do catch the laugh it pulls out of Blue Eyes.

I set the plates down one at a time, careful and efficient, because if I’m being watched, the last thing I’m going to do is give anybody a reason to think I can’t handle my job.

“There we go,” I say, setting the last plate in front of Blue Eyes. “One dangerously life-altering meal.”

He glances down at it, then lifts his gaze back to me with an intensity I can barely stand. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” I say, because apparently, I’m still capable of basic customer service when forced.

Leather Jacket picks up his fork and inhales like he’s been starved for days. “This smells incredible.”

“It’s eggs,” I tell him.

He looks offended by my refusal to romanticize breakfast. “Don’t ruin it for me.”

Blond Business Guy takes a bite of his food and gives a small, approving nod, like he’s signing off on a business deal instead of tasting hash browns.

Mr. Painfully Black Coffee doesn’t eat right away. He looks at me for another second, long enough that I start wishing I’d remembered to check whether I have ketchup on my shirt or mascara smeared under one eye.

“Do you always talk to customers like that?” he asks at last.

I lift one eyebrow. “Only the special ones.”

Leather Jacket smirks. Blond Business Guy laughs without bothering to hide it this time, and Mr. Painfully Black Coffee’s mouth shifts. It’s not quite a smile, but close enough that I catch it.

“Good to know,” he says.

I tap my pen lightly against my notepad. “Anything else?”

Leather Jacket leans forward, like he’s settling in instead of finishing his meal. “Yeah. Your name.”

I glance down at my chest, then back at him. “It’s on the tag.”

“I don’t trust name tags,” he says easily.

“That sounds like a personal problem.”

Blond Business Guy huffs a laugh, shaking his head, and Leather Jacket’s grin widens like I just confirmed exactly what he was hoping for.

“Humor me,” he says.

I narrow my eyes, but I play along anyway. “Willow.”

Leather Jacket nods once, satisfied, then taps his chest. “Julian.” He gestures beside him to Blond Business Guy. “Gabe.” And then, with a tilt of his head toward Black Coffee across from him, “And that’s Xander.”

Xander.

Of course. There was never any chance a man like that was going to have a soft, forgettable name.

Gabe is smiling like he’s enjoying this entirely too much, and Xander is still watching me with that same intensity that makes me want to either roll my eyes or throw something.