But he just watches me, no hint of a joke in his expression, so I nervously walk around the counter, trying not to trip over my own feet, and sit down beside him, holding my breath.
Reaching forward, he grabs a small salad plate from the other side of the counter and swipes a handful of fries before sliding it toward me without a word.
I tentatively pick up a fry between my fingers as he looks ahead, seemingly ignoring me, but slides over what’s left of his sauce in its little gravy dish for me to dip into.
“Thank you,” I whisper almost inaudibly, but he nods, remaining silent. It’s a weirdly charged situation. I can’t tell if this is some kind of test or something, but I do as I’m expected and eat my portion of fries.
That’s when it hits me how hungry I am.
“You were starving,” he says, taking me by surprise.
I instinctively look at him to see he’s watching me closely while casually running his index finger over his bottom lip. “You should eat more,” he states.
I blush a little and try to avoid his piercing gaze. I don’t know what to do, sitting under his scrutiny, but I feel weirdly tingly—I can’t tell if it’s discomfort or not.
When he stands, I stand too, eager to just move on from whatever this was. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a handful of notes and closes the gap between us.
“Jack would not appreciate it if I charged you, so it’s on us, Mr. King,” I say respectfully and keep my head slightly down.
I hear his slight chuckle, and he leans in by my ear.
Then he pulls open the pocket of my apron to stuff the notes inside, his knuckles briefly grazing the flat of my stomach, making my blush deepen.
Stepping back, he heads for the door and flicks the lock but looks back over his shoulder.
“Thank you. For your company,” he says quietly, but I frown a little at the slight change in his tone as he leaves without another word.
I feel stuck in a strange daze. I put my hand in my pocket, pulling out the one-hundred-dollar tip he left me, and pale slightly. “What the fuck?”
I quickly stuff the bills back in my pocket and dash to the door, throwing it open and stepping outside.
I look down the street to the Lion’s bar. Jason is standing, illuminated by the orange glow of a streetlight, looking toward me. He takes a last drag on a cigarette before flicking it away into the street, and with a blank expression, he heads into the bar.
“Hey! What are you doing out here?!” Alice calls from her car. I didn’t even notice her pulling up. She looks down the street toward where my eyes were fixed.
“Shoot. I’ll be two minutes,” I say distractedly and head back into the diner quickly to lock up.
During the ride home, I give Alice the download of what happened.
She stays quiet the whole time until I tell her it was Jason, and then she becomes extremely anxious for the rest of the drive, not saying much at all. She just keeps looking around, checking the mirrors, which in turn puts me on edge too.
Once safely home, Alice triple locks the door after checking the hallway several times and then goes straight to the kitchen to grab a bottle of wine.
I walk over to the counter and pop myself on a stool as she pours two glasses and hands one over, taking a big glug of her own.
She nods, reaching across to take my hand with a frown. “He didn’t touch you? Take anything from you?”
I frown down at the bills. “I didn’t think of it like that.”
Alice nods again and gives me a small reassuring squeeze. “Just be careful, Mave. And don’t spend the money. Maybe find a way to give it back. Honestly…they’re animals.”
I offer her a weak smile, now squeezing her hand too. “I know. I’ll be okay. It was just a weird one-off.”
She raises an eyebrow at me. “You said that about the Lion incident last week.”
I wave her off. “It’ll be fine.”
That night, lying in the cool sheets, I toss and turn.
But who am I to judge? He probably tipped me because he felt sorry for me. I was obviously starving, and he felt he had to feed me.
I sigh, closing my eyes, hoping to force everything out, but the chirping of my alarm makes me groan.
I roll out of bed and get ready for my shift. I don’t intend to tell Trixi or Jack what happened; it would only worry Jack and make Trixi feel bad for leaving me there.
Alice drops me off, and I start the day strong. Trixi is also much calmer than when I last saw her. Apparently, her puppy is recovering from surgery well.
At lunch, I take my break in Jack’s empty office while Trixi mans the counter. I’m about halfway through my salad when she comes to the door, paler than her makeup.
“Jesus! You okay?” I ask her, immediately concerned.
“Um…I don’t know how to say this…b-but…” She looks over her shoulder, as if she’s being watched. I stiffen.
“Trixi…”
“Mr. King is asking for you…” she whispers.
I swallow the lump of lettuce leaves in my mouth. “W-what?”
She nods with a slight grimace.
“I’m sorry…I was going to lie, but he said he saw you come in…”
I nod and push my food away, now far too anxious to feed the empty pit in my stomach. “Thank you, Trixi,” I say quietly as I pack away my lunch and put it back into my locker.
“I’m so sorry…,” she whispers as I pass her. “Table one.”
I nod and make my way up the small corridor. My breath catches in my throat the second I round the corner.
I gulp down the lump of air, pick up four menus, and walk toward the window table where Jason and three other Lions are seated.
I keep my eyes down as I place down the menus and want to throw up when I recognize the spiked pair of shit-kicker boots under the table.
“Mm, there she is…” That foul, deep voice drones as I lean slightly over him to pass over the other two menus.
Suddenly, his hard, calloused hand whacks my ass again, this time adding a squeeze and a jiggle. I don’t yelp, as I expected it, but it still hurts like a bitch. He’s far too rough.
“Mm, mumma. Dayum,” he says as I straighten. His hand remains on my ass, though—until Jason’s voice commands attention.
“Get your hands off her.”
It prompts me to look up, but his focus is on the shit-kicker.
“Come on, Jase. She loves it, really. Don’t ya, toots?”
I don’t get to respond before Jason speaks again. “Did I stutter? Let go of the fucking waitress and order your fucking food.”
“Jeez, you’re such a buzzkill today,” the hulking guy responds and reluctantly removes his hand from my ass.
“Steak. The way I like it.” Jason looks straight up at me, his eyes piercing my own as I nod, going to jot it down, but he stops me. “No need. You’re cooking it.” There’s no room for question. It’s a demand.
I nod quietly, and he looks out of the window while the others place their orders. I take their menus back, and when I reach for Jason’s, he holds on for a moment, locking eyes with me. “Only mine. Give theirs to the chef.”
“Yes, sir,” I respond quietly.
Taking his menu, I turn and head for the till. Trixi gives me a strange look as I walk past the counter and into the kitchen.
Meanwhile, I make my own way around the kitchen, getting everything I need just like last night—including the brandy—and get started on Jason’s steak. Chef gives me an odd look, but thankfully doesn’t question me.
Once the food is ready, Trixi responds to the bell, appearing at the hatch to grab the plates. There, she finally sees me adding the finishing touches to Jason’s meal.
“Mave, what are you doing?!” she whisper-shouts.
I shake my head, giving her an “I’ll explain later” look as I clean up the edge of the plate with a cloth. She disappears with the rest of the order, and I follow behind her with Jason’s.
Trixi is just leaving the table when I approach. I walk around her and gently place Jason’s food down before him. Immediately, he picks up a fry, swipes it through the sauce, and looks up at me expectantly.
I open my mouth awkwardly, feeling the eyes of other customers on me while he holds my gaze and reaches up to pop the fry between my lips.
I almost jump a mile when I feel his fingertips tickle my bare thigh below the table.
