Page 12 of Matchmaking On The Menu

Why am I staring like professionalism is optional?

White T-shirt under a leather jacket, and I swear I can see the outline of a six-pack beneath it.

Have I developed X-ray vision? Love that for me. Maybe next I can develop the ability to act like a functioning adult and not mentally undress a customer mid-shift. It does explain Mary’s new skin tone, though. Thank tuna he doesn’t look up and catch me committing full-scale objectification in my place of employment.

WAITRESS PUBLICLY PERVES ON OUT-OF-TOWNER. COMMUNITY IN SHOCK.

“Hello? Are you even listening?” Mike snaps.

I jerk back into myself, fingers tightening around the phone. Right. Oil. Reality.

I don’t take my eyes off the newcomer as he takes a seat. “Mike, the bottom line is that I’m a case short. Let me know when you’ve reconciled your stock.”

I end the call but I’m still staring. Subtle, Dannica. Very subtle.

“I see you’re following suit,” Imani mutters, having abandoned her booth in favor of what I can only assume is ogling with us.

“I can most definitely handle these emotions,” I say. “Are you just here to stir the pot?”

“You know it. I have clients to keep informed this afternoon. Besides, I need something to keep me busy since Royal was deployed and left me outnumbered.” She gazes lovingly at her twins, who are now fighting over a ketchup bottle, and rubs her very pregnant belly.

“Why the hell did he sit in my section?” Mary hisses, already backing away.

“Probably because everyone’s staring instead of seating him,” Llewellen mutters, not even looking up. “You’d swear you’ve never seen a new customer before.”

Heat crawls up the back of my neck.

“Maybe because we don’t usually get customers who look like that,” I add under my breath, like that somehow makes this better.

Which it doesn’t.

“Mary,” Llewellen calls, finally glancing up, “you better go ask him what he wants before he leaves.”

Mary spins toward me so fast, I barely have time to brace before she grabs my hands, squeezing hard enough to cut off circulation.

“You have to take my table.”

I’m not even surprised at Mary’s reaction. She’s so shy, she once hid in the walk-in fridge to avoid singing happy birthday to a customer. I genuinely thought we were going to lose her to hypothermia.

I glance back at the newcomer.

Still, you’d think she’d power through it for… that.

“Yeah?” I arch a brow, folding my arms. “And when I asked you to take mine when Beverly was here?”

She winces, shifting her weight. “That was different.”

I hold her gaze. “How?”

“Because Grandma had my hands tied. And quite frankly, I’d rather get a lap dance from the entire cast of Magic Mike in front of my dad than have Grandma come after me.”

I stare at her for a second. Well now, that puts things in perspective.

“I’m begging,” she whispers. “Have a heart.”

“Yeah, have a heart,” Imani chimes in.

I point my order pad at Imani. “You stay out of this.”