He nods. “Do you like working here?”
He’s not giving me the creep vibe, but I’m still uneasy with his questions. “I do. I needed a job, and the Emerald gave me a shot. I’ve been here ever since.” Taking a deep breath, I internally chastise myself. I don’t know why I just blabbed all of that.
“I’ll go check on your meal. Enjoy,” I say, turning away before he can ask another question, and I spill my life story. It’s those eyes. He could get me to tell him anything. He should work for the CIA or something. Hell, he might, I know nothing about him. I don’t even know his name.
I busy myself with my other tables, and this time when I drop off his meal, he’s on the phone having a conversation, so I’m able to drop off his food, along with steak sauce, a refill, extra napkins, and rush off. I don’t know what it is, but there is something about him. It’s as if his presence alone is commanding. I check on my other tables, then head back to his, hoping that he’s still occupied with his call.
When I approach, he lifts his head and watches me. “Did you save room for dessert?” I ask.
“Just the check,” he says, tossing his napkin on his now empty plate.
“Great, here you go. I can take it whenever you’re ready.”
“Wait.” He stands, pulls his wallet out of his pocket, grabs a few bills, and hands it to me. “Keep the change, Layla,” he says. His fingers slide across mine as he hands me the money, and my hand tingles from his touch.
“Thank you, uh, sir,” I say, fumbling with my words and once again making myself look like a fool in front of him. Unlike him, I’ve not badgered him with questions, including his name. He always pays in cash, so there is no credit card to tell me his name. Hence the nickname, Blue Eyes. It fits him.
“Owen.” He holds his hand out for me. My fingers are still tingling, but my manners and blatant curiosity of the magic of his touch—and if it will happen a second time—have me placing my hand in his.
“It’s nice to meet you, Owen. Thank you for your generosity.” I know I already thanked him for his gracious tips, but there are several bills now shoved in my apron, and I’m certain it more than covers his meal, just as before.
“You work every night?” he asks.
I can see how he would think that. I’ve been here every night this week. “Most weekends. I don’t mind the shifts that no one else wants to work,” I say with a shrug. Again, giving him more information than necessary for the conversation.
“Do you ever get a night off?”
“Yeah, usually not on the weekend. This week I picked up some extra shifts.” His eyes bore into mine, unnerving me. Shifting my weight from one leg to the other, I look over at the table. “Thank you again. Have a great night.”
“Are you dismissing me, Layla?”
“N-No.” I clear my throat. “No, just, uh, thank you. You don’t have to go.” I stumble over my words. I don’t know who this guy is, but from a look, you can tell he has money. Just my luck, he’s some big wig that could get me fired. I need this job.
Reaching out, his thumb lightly brushes under my eye. “You look tired.”
Who is this guy? He’s seen me a handful of times, and he thinks he knows I’m tired? What’s worse is I am. I haven’t been sleeping well. There is no reason for it, but the truth is apparently obvious in my eyes. “Just a long day,” I answer him.
“Hmm. I’ll see you soon, Layla.” With that, he steps around me and walks out of the room.
I stand frozen, my knees locked, and my mind racing. What just happened? My hand goes to my cheek. I can still feel his touch. That man is intoxicating and trouble. Nothing but trouble. Shaking myself out of my Owen trance, I get busy clearing his table.
Owen.
It’s not a name you hear often, and I have to say it suits him. Then again, so does Blue Eyes, but I can’t very well call him that to his face. Something tells me that I’ve not seen the last of him.
“You ready to lock the doors?” Maria asks me.
Turning my wrist to look at my watch, I see it’s past closing time. “Yeah, my last one just left.”
“Oh, honey, I noticed. That was the hottie in VIP. Did you get his number?” she asks.
“No.”
“Why the hell not? How do you know him anyway? He asked for you by name.”
“I don’t. He came in last weekend, and Oliver pawned his table off on me. He’s been here every night since.”
“Has he asked for you every time?”
“Yeah,” I say, thinking about how after that first night, I watch for him to come in. I’ve never been there waiting for him, though. He always has to ask for me.
“He must like what he sees.” She hip checks me and goes to lock the doors.
Reaching into my apron, I pull out his ticket to cash him out. I’m not surprised that he’s left the same generous tip as he has every day this week. It’s too much, and I should give it back to him. I think about how that extra money helped me. It’s wrong to keep taking it. I know that. Starting now, I’m going to give it back to him. I appreciate his generosity, and it’s helped me more than he will ever know, but I can’t keep taking it. I don’t know what he’s playing at, but I can’t keep accepting these huge tips. I can hear my bank account crying as I make plans to keep the tip on me in case I see him again so I can give it back.
“You ladies ready to go?” Oliver asks. Ronnie was off tonight, so he’s tasked with taking us to our cars. He sees it as an inconvenience but does it anyway. Secretly, I think he’s afraid of Ronnie. Ronnie doesn’t take his shit, and that scares Mr. Spoiled and Privileged.
“Yes,” Maria and I say at the same time.
Grabbing our bags, we head out to the lot, following behind Oliver. “Have a good night, ladies,” he calls out, throwing his hand in the air for a wave. He doesn’t bother to make sure we’re in our cars, but he never does.
“You on tomorrow?” Maria asks.
“Yes, I’m on the next two days.”
“Bummer. I’ll see you next week.” She climbs in her car and drives away.
Unlocking my car door, I climb inside, tossing my bag into the passenger seat and locking the doors—something Ronnie insisted I do as soon as I get inside. Key in the ignition, I turn it, and nothing happens. I try again and still nothing.
“Shit.” I slam my hands against the steering wheel. “Come on, don’t fail me now. Not tonight of all nights.” I try yet again and nothing but a clicking sound, no sign that the engine is going to start up and drive my tired ass home. Peering through the front windshield, I watch as Maria’s taillights disappear. Oliver is long since gone, which leaves me all alone. I don’t have a cell phone—that’s an expense that I can’t afford. I’m barely keeping a roof over my head and food on the table. Exhaling a deep breath, I grab my bag, the keys, and climb out of the car. I lock the door, even though no one would want to steal it. Ronnie has beat it in my head to keep it locked to keep others from hiding in the back seat. I think he watches too many murder mysteries, but I don’t tell him that. I just lock my doors. It’s easy enough, and it makes him smile when he sees that I’ve listened. Linda said she does the same. “Pick your battles,” she once told me. I’m lucky to have them both.