Page 76 of My Three Billionaire Rockstars

“It feels like it.”

I point the pen at him. “Order food or leave.”

He considers. “Both.”

“Pick one.”

“Fine. Burger. Fries. And a ride to the bookstore.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“I’ve been told.”

I scribble the order down with more force than necessary and turn to go.

“Willow.”

I pause.

Not because of him, because of the tone. It’s different. Less playful.

I glance back.

He’s watching me, expression softer now. “Rough day?”

I shrug. “Just busy.”

He nods like he doesn’t believe me, but he lets it go, which is unexpected.

I turn back toward the kitchen.

“Excuse me?”

The voice cuts across the room loud enough to turn heads.

I don’t even need to look.

Table six. Of course. He’s been an issue ever since he walked in.

I take a breath, paste on the customer smile, and turn. “Yes?”

The man doesn’t bother hiding the way his eyes drag over me, like he’s assessing something he’s already decided he doesn’t like. “This is taking a while.”

“You’ve been here eight minutes,” I say evenly.

He scoffs, leaning back like the chair offended him personally. “Well, maybe if you spent less time flirting with every guy who walks in…”

I go very still.

The smile stays. Barely.

“I’m working,” I say.

“Doesn’t look like it,” he mutters, loud enough that the table beside him goes quiet. “Too busy playing hostess instead of doing your job.”

There’s a flicker of heat in my chest now.

I’ve dealt with worse. I have. But there’s an edge in the tone, the way he says it like I’m something he can reduce down to a joke in front of a room full of people.