My feet already hurt and I’ve still got four hours to go. I pocket the tip money and snap the register closed. As soon as I see Mr. Moreau, I slide from behind the bar and skip after him.
“Mr. Moreau.”
“What is it, Ana?” He barks.
“I’ll need the twenty-seventh off to prepare for the MCATS.”
“You can prepare here while memorizing the nightly specials.” He points to the bartender. “Martin will make you a double espresso. It’ll be on the house.”
“But Mr. Moreau, I need to study.”
“I can’t let you off Ana. Full staff is necessary to accommodate the grand re-opening.” He wiggles his fingers in the air and walks off. I’ve been dismissed.
Amber pushes money into my hand, “Your tips from eight. You’ve got a customer at four.”
I walk toward table four wondering how I’ll be alert for the MCATS after serving until two in the morning. There are only twelve tables in the French bistro and it doesn’t take me long to hit my destination. “Good evening, may I get a drink started for you?” I look up and suddenly freeze. It’s him. He’s been in here every night this week. Sweet monkey Jesus he is the most handsome man ever to be in existence, including the good Lord himself.
“Have dinner with me.”
What did he just say? I’m still cemented in place by the beauty of his sharply cut features and piercing gray eyes. I try to speak, but only manage a couple of groans. I clear my throat. “Excuse me?”
“Take off your apron and have dinner with me.”
Confused, I look left, then right. “I’m uh…I’m working.”
“Thank you for clarifying, but I want you to sit down.” He pulls the free chair around, setting it beside to him.
One million thoughts sting my brain: I want to have dinner with him. He’s insane. I’m not sure I like his confidence. I love his confidence. I’m majorly turned on. I want his hands on me and mine on him. Yeah, that about sums it up.
“Excuse me.” I leave him at the table and walk to find my perpetually grouchy, giraffe-like colleague.
“Amber, I need you take table four.” She stands before me and I look up and up until I sort of meet her eyes. “Please.” I’m not above begging.
She shoots a glance to table four before she agrees. Her eyes widen, “Sure thing.”
I busy myself building to-go boxes and containers. I’ve completed assembly on three sets when I hear her, “Mr. Sex-on-a-stick says if you don’t have dinner with him he’s going to make a scene with Mr. Moreau.”
“What?”
“I don’t get it either, but I don’t have time for this. You’re on your own.” Amber pushes the menu into my chest and stomps off.
Bloody perfect. I skulk back to his table. I don’t have room in my life for this…distraction. His steel-gray eyes pierce me to the wall. Shit, that’s a lot of intensity. I shake it off. “Today’s specials include filet of sole with a caper berry beurre blanc”—
“Take off your apron and sit down.”
I press the tip of the pen to my lips and then say, “Once again, I’m working.”
“Do as I say or I’ll tell your boss, my friend of nine years, that you propositioned me. He’ll believe me too.” He held his arms out at his sides, “Happens everywhere I go.”
