“You’re a jerk.”
“I love you too, sweetpea. Now go, and you could probably shake your ass in his face too, if you want. Best case scenario, he grabs it. Worst case, bigger tip.”
* * *
With my heartin my throat and my boobs sitting weird, since Stefan ruined my move, I blow out a gusty breath of frustration and try to soften my glare as Mac turns in his booth and sits down. My son is right here, listening to everything I say, so I tone my attitude down and pray I don’t stab anyone today. “Hello.” I cough to clear the nerves from my throat. “My name is Katrina, and I’ll be your server today.”
Every. Damn. Day.
Morning, noon, and night I have to say those annoying words and stare into light green eyes framed with dark blonde lashes that are too long for a man. It’s not fair that men get those lashes and women have to fake ours. It’s not fair that men almost always have nicer hair than women, and rarely have to spend more than a minute styling it.
It’s not fair that Eric DeWhit can wear jeans just right, smile the way he does, sit in my booth and act unaffected after stepping up to defend my honor this week, all while my stomach flips with nerves. After months and months of this weird back and forth, of the monotone greetings – from me – and the lame jokes – from him – it would be weird now to give in to what I so desperately want. I’d give a lot of money for a single night of being ravaged with the guarantee of no consequences. One night of selfish fun where I didn’t have to worry about anything else, where I don’t have to be a mom, don’t have to worry where my kid is, don’t have to worry about my bills or the gossip mills starting up the second I dropped my panties. I’d pay anything to have a night where a man treats me as though I matter, and his only goal is to pleasure me.
But there’s too much history between us already. Eric and I don’t even know each other, but I can’t swallow my pride long enough to suggest we meet up in the locker room and work this electricity from beneath my skin. I’m too proud for my own good, because it would be easier for me to fuck a stranger in a dark club, a one-night stand I can walk away from with my dignity intact, than to ask if Eric wants me the way I want him.
My stupid dignity ruins everything, and his playful stare does nothing to quench the fire in my belly.
“Hi, Katrina.” His teasing lips twitch and spike my sex-starved, stress-induced bad attitude until I’m tempted to drop my coffee pot in his lap. “My name is Eric, and I’ll be your customer today. I’d love a little of that coffee.” He flips his mug and grins. “Did you make it yourself?”
“I switched the button on the machine.” I carefully pour and work extra hard not to spill it and burn his hand. Last time, I didn’t want to hurt him. This time, I really,reallydo.
Fourteen years, my libido has been in check.
Fourteen years, I’ve been able to keep my shit under control.
But then my thirtieth birthday swaggers on in at the same lazy pace as the man in front of me, and the universe wants to tempt me with man ass and a good time?
No thank you!
“You always make such delicious coffee, Kat. Can I call you Kat?”
“No.”
“Trina, then?”
“Absolutely not. Burger and fries?”
“Well…” He sits back with a lazy grin and rests his arms on the back of the booth seat. “I kinda want to switch it up today. Can you tell me the specials? A burger will always fix my…hunger.” Damn him for practically growling that word.“But I wouldn’t mind knowing what else is available, just in case something else catches my eye.”
“Fickle,” I bite off. I beg myself to stop it; I scream against the wall my brain has been shut behind while my mouth runs off unchecked. “Men know they have a burger at home. A burger that’ll fill them up and satisfy them until they smile, butno, he wants to know his options. A chicken burger with zesty lemon dressing might be on the menu, and maybe it’ll be less filling, less satisfying, but it’s exotic and new, so he’s gonna try it anyway and risk being hungry in an hour. Because men are stupid and fickle!”
I barely notice my son sliding out of his booth and making his way to the kitchen as Eric’s eyes dance with humor. “I feel like maybe we’re not talking about burgers anymore.”
“We’re not!” Scratching out a deepburger and frieson my notepad until the tip of my pen digs in and rips the paper, I almost feel steam pour from my ears the longer he stares. “Men are pigs. Men are stealing, lying, cheating, filthy, procreating, deadbeat, cheap ass pigs who probably have regular juicy burgers at home, but those lemon zesty bitches are just too damn tasty to walk away from.”
Swinging away from his table on a huff, I jam the half-full coffee pot back on the heat tray and slap the order in with a quietly watchful Stefan. “He wants a burger and fries. Regular burger, none of the exotic slutty stuff.” Then I turn to my smiling son and frown as he rubs soothing patterns into the top of his thigh. “Baby, take your meds if your leg is bothering you, then go to school. Be good. No fighting.”
Turning away from my stunned cook, I grab a set of silverware on the way back to Eric’s table, slam them down just an inch from his hand, and leaning closer, I beg myself to stop my tirade before he has me arrested. “You’re having a burger and fries, because we both know that’s what you were gonna order. We both know you’re screwing with me because you like to reinforce the fact you have a billion options, but that you’re in control of the universe. You like me running after you, and you want me to remember my place while I do it. Eat your burger, Eric, and stop sitting in my section every damn day.”
As I whip around, I expect a round of applause from my non-existent audience and a pat on the back for laying down a savage talking-to, but in reality, I swing back with a gasp when Eric’s strong hand wraps around my wrist and my hip slams against the corner of the table. Glittery eyes stare into mine from just an inch away. “Maybe I ask you the specials so I can keep you talking just a minute longer. Not to show you who’s in control, but because I’m desperate for a minute of your time.”
“Wha– I– Um…”
“Not all men are cheats, Katrina. And not all men are assholes. I sit in your section because I think you’re beautiful, and if I’m gonna eat a burger every day, I may as well do it with a spectacular fucking view. If I’m gonna be here every day and watch you chat to everyoneexceptme as you brush right past without a second glance, then I’ll ask for the fucking specials and buy a moment of your time. You’re projecting your man issues onto me, but your beef isn’t my fault.”
My heart races so fast, I feel it in my throat. “I don’t have beef with anyone.”
“But you do. You surely do have man troubles, and they land squarely on the shoulders of the prick who broke that door a few days ago. You walk around here and ignore every single man between the ages of twenty-five and forty-five. I guess that’s your window. You flirt with old man Ray; you pat Stefan’s cheeks, and kiss Mac’s head, but if a man is somewhere in the same age region as you, he’s a leper, and you’re allergic, so you try to send Tammy over. I’m not a stranger to you, but you act like I just walked in for the first time ever.”