by Eden Connor
I peered around the brick patio through the service window. Maybe fifty patrons filled every seat, all primed to give me a hard time.
“The good news is, Mary hasn’t come off the clock yet in section three. Talk her into working over until you catch up,” the other waitress suggested.
Like that would happen. Mary was fifty-three, and working at the bar between office jobs. Worse, she was friends with Harry’s mother. The woman thought that when she hit the floor, the other staff in her section should just walk out, leaving their tables and tips that hadn’t yet been collected, to her. In return, she left her section the same way, no matter how many tables still had to pay. Harry’s take on the situation was to humor Mary, because she wouldn’t be here long.
Meaning I’d just gotten fucked twice, no kiss and no lube. Twenty-ish people would stiff me from Jessica’s section and Mary would march into the sunset in...oh, five minutes. While I tried to catch up in section two, the next round of people seated in section three would probably stiff me, too.
One glance at Harry told me that, thanks to my daring to show up out of uniform, he wasn’t going to force either of these bitches to help me.
Harry plunked the pair of bourbon and Cokes onto my tray. “Table sixteen.” I knew he meant for me to run them out, but I held firm, glaring. With a sigh, he spun. I waited while he mixed a pitcher of Bloody Marys and poured them into four glasses. I added them to my tray.
“Table seventeen,” Harry barked, reaching for four assorted bottles of beer. He slipped his opener from his back pocket, flipping tops into the trash bin. “Table nineteen.” He capped each bottle with a Pilsner glass, giving me a baleful look for my small act of defiance.
“Phillip wanted to come to the funeral, to be there for you, but his boss dumped some pleading on him that has to be filed in the morning. They’re making him do everybody’s shit work, now that he’s turned in his notice.”
When he spun to grab a bottle of triple sec, his words penetrated my haze of resentment.
“What notice? Phillip’s leaving the solicitor’s office?”
He nodded, snatching two more glasses. “He took a job on the north side of Charlotte. A firm that handles business law. He despises working as a prosecutor.”
The north side of Charlotte? For fuck’s sake. “I didn’t know that.” For the last three weeks, I’d spent every spare minute with Francine or with my nose in a book.
Harry dipped two more glasses into a small tray of lime juice, then stabbed the rims into an adjacent tray of coarse salt. “Did you see our flowers?”
“Francine showed me. They were gorgeous.”
“Tell.” While the drink mixes chugged into the blenders, he shot me a look that said I’d better have taken a good look at the arrangement he’d probably spent an hour picking out.
“Wicker basket, natural. White glads about this tall.” I held my hands about eighteen inches apart. “Twelve of the pinkest, most perfect rosebuds, and violet... uh, whatchamacallit.”
“Edelweiss.” He snorted, pressing the lids onto both blenders and stabbing the buttons. A few seconds later, he poured the contents of a blender with each hand. Slamming the containers onto the motor stands, he added limes to the rims of the margaritas, then grabbed the two glasses, adding them to my tray. “Table eighteen.” He tossed cherries into the Pina Coladas, or what the fuck ever they were, and dumped those drinks onto my tray. “Now, will you go do your damn job?”
Mary slipped up beside me. “Hey. I’m ringing out four tables. The dude at table twenty hasn’t ordered, but someone just joined him. The rest either just got seated or just got their orders.” She turned toward the register. “I’m leaving now, Harry.”
“Uh, since Dawn walked off the floor, I have to work section two and three. Any chance you can stay over until I get caught up?”
She shook her head, already untying her apron. “Sorry, I have plans.”
I gave Harry an exasperated glare. Expecting anything else was pointless, but it still hurt when he said, “Bye, Mary. See you tomorrow.”
Furious, I demanded, “Comp tables sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, and nineteen or I’m not stepping out on that floor.” Harry scowled, but I gave him a wide grin. “Call it payback for letting Mary bail.”
He nudged me aside and poked the register screen. “What do I care? I’m moving to Charlotte with Phillip in thirty days.”
“Really?”
Harry nodded, focused on the task. “Really. Wanna buy my townhouse?”
“No, but I’ll take the G.I. Joe collection, if it needs a new home.”
Where am I going to stay after graduation?
Francine’s. Duh.
I hoisted the tray above my left shoulder. Pain danced along my collar bone for the first time in weeks. My cheeks heated with shame. Harry was just trying to protect me by sending me out with a light tray.
Once I cleared the door, I headed for sixteen, the closest table. “Sorry for the delay. I had the manager comp this round.”
“We’ve been waiting forever,” a thirty-ish woman snapped. “Where did our waitress go?” Just my luck. Someone a free drink didn’t satisfy. I pictured how she’d look wearing it instead of slapping her.
I forced a smile. “I think they call her situation an emergency. My name’s Shelby, I’ll take over now. Enjoy your drinks. I’ll be back to check on you in a few minutes.”
The rest of Dawn’s tables seemed pacified by hearing their drinks were on the house. I took a breath, hoping the worst part of the evening was behind me. Approaching table twenty, I caught a surreptitious wave from Bert, the piano player. The massive Baldwin baby grand sat near the railing, screened by pots of bamboo. Smiling, I launched into my spiel, still watching the talented man’s fingers fly over the keys.
“Hi, I’m Shelby. I’ll be your server since Mary’s going off shift. She said you were shy, so can I tempt you with—” I lowered my gaze to the man seated on my right. Holy shit— I stumbled on—“...one of our house specialties?”
The customer peered at me with ice-blue eyes. “Of all the gin joints in all the world, she had to walk into mine.”
I shook a finger. “Nice try. This is my gin joint.”
No smile lit Niles Jaeger’s eyes. “Drives an R8 but waits on tables? What’s that about?” He turned to his companion, so I did as well. My heart stopped when I spied rebellious spikes and dark eyes.
“Jet, if you’re here to tell me about her stepfather, you’re wasting your breath. I checked out Dale Hannah. What I found was a stinking mess. Unless you can explain why a crew chief would set up his driver and steal his car, we have nothing to discuss.”
“Dale didn’t cheat,” Jonny croaked, then paused to clear his throat. “That’s just Kolby running his mouth. He’s butt hurt ‘cause he lost to a woman who can drive. I helped Dale with the engine swap. All he did was drop the twenty-two car’s engine into the Plymouth and change out the tranny.” He jabbed a long finger toward me. “She did the rest.”
Niles’ eyes bore into mine. “Right. Little college girl with no racing experience turns in an eight-second run. Which doesn’t jive with the twelve-second runs she put up against me earlier today. Especially since, according to my crew chief, one of Hannahs’ boys turned her new ride into a six-second car. The problem is, she’s hardly a six-second driver. Which makes me wonder how she managed such a good time in a ’71 ‘Cuda? The whole thing stinks to high heaven.” Niles gave me an arrogant grin. “What was your best time today, sweetie? Twelve point three?”
I drove my nails into my palm, aching to slap the German bastard’s smile all the way to Stuttgart.
While I tried to think how to explain, Bert launched into a spirited rendition of Bruno Mars’ song, I Think I Wanna Marry You. To my horror, Becca appeared behind Burt. People got to their feet all over the patio, crossing to fill the space behind the piano player.
People like Switz.
And the unknown girl I’d fucked Robert with a f
ew hours earlier.
I stared in dismay. Robert stepped up behind Burt. I looked away, only to meet Jonny’s stunned eyes. Niles shoved his chair back. The metal legs made a horrible shriek against the brick patio. The sound flung me back to the moment in Mom’s kitchen when Caine took a look at Robert. The Audi racing guru jumped to his feet, dragging me into the present.
The bricks refused to swallow me, no matter how hard I begged.
The gaggle of swaying frat boys—plus my roommate and the bleached blonde whose name I did not know—moved through in my direction. Niles shouldered through the moving group on his way out the door.
Swallowing hard, I tried to think what to do to stop this hideous moment from happening while half of Pi Kappa Phi gathered around.
Nothing had come to mind by the time Robert reached me. He just stood there like an idiot, mouthing the words to the song until the piano fell silent. The boisterous Sunday night crowd quieted along with the last note.
Don’t do this. Don’t do this.
Robert’s gaze was steady on my face. “From the day I met you, I knew you were the one.”
My sluggish brain started spitting out logic, for the first time since the wreck.
So, I knew them for six months when I was just a kid, and six days at Christmas? Not to mention all those damn lies and the way they took advantage of me? This sudden burst of—whatever I feel for the two of them—is just my brain, acting stupid. I’ve spent two years with this man. He’s not mean, he’s not cheap. He’s smart. He loves me. He’s no daredevil, so what?
“Yes,” I blurted, cutting off whatever the hell else Robert might say. I stuck out my hand, waggling my fingers. The guests broke into applause. Bert, goddamn him, launched into Mendelssohn’s Wedding March. I wasn’t sharing my tips with him tonight. Hell, no.
Robert pulled the box from his pocket and lifted the lid. I grabbed the ring and stuck it on my finger. The flashing stone was the same one he’d offered me before Christmas. Still square.
There. It’s done. Columbia, South Carolina, here I come. Potholes are asphalt, right? Might catch the odd whiff of burning rubber. That’s as close as I need to be to anyone named Hannah.
I stepped into Robert’s arms. He reeked of pussy and tequila. I jerked free after a chaste kiss. “Gotta get back to work.”
Chapter Sixteen
Someone cleared their throat. “If I don’t leave now, I’ll miss my return flight.” Jonny got to his feet. He opened his wallet, tossing a twenty on the table. Rather than turn toward the door, he stepped close to Robert’s side. Tipping his head, he eyeballed my cheeks—cheeks as hot as a tail pipe after a hard run.
“I hate to tell you this, dude, but until you can push in a clutch to just the right spot while you slide into first, then know when the time’s right to move up to second, then sense it’s the moment to shove it into third, what makes you think you can handle something as complicated as a woman? And this woman? She’s pure adrenaline. Pedal to the metal. Sure you can keep up?”
Robert turned, fists clenched. The ring box hit the bricks and tumbled underneath a table and out of sight. Jonny met Robert’s baleful glare with a smirk.
“In case you’re wondering? Yes, I know what I’m talking about.” Robert opened his mouth, but Jonny cut him off. “I happen to have six sisters. FYI, you need timing to drive a stick, and yours sucks. Why not at least wait till the dirt settles over Ernie’s grave?”
“Who the hell is Ernie?” Robert demanded.
“Oh, you don’t know? I rest my case.”
That’s not arrogance. It’s... pity.
“Who the hell are you?”
Jonny actually stuck out his hand. “Jonny Jet. Car number six, built by Dale and Caine Hannah, owned by Ridenhour Racing. Her father’s my crew chief. Her brother Caine’s my car chief. Her other brother, Colt, is my teammate. I put my life in the hands of all three on the daily.”
“Oh.” Robert’s expression brightened. He pumped the hand Jonny held out. “Nice to meet you. I’m—”
“Mr. Automatic. I know. Hey, listen.” Jonny slapped Robert so hard between the shoulder blades, he staggered forward. “Stick to the slow lane. I’d hate to see you get run over. A woman like Shelby will be the death of a man like you, but hell, I guess people die of boredom every day, too.” He drilled his gaze into me and smirked.
Oh, you arrogant prick. Why would you do this to me?
Spinning, Jonny shoved his hands into the pockets of his slacks. The motherfucker whistled the stupid Bruno Mars tune as he shouldered his way through all Robert’s frat buddies. His shrill, mocking notes hung over the patio until he disappeared through the door.
Not a single voice broke the silence. No ice tinkled in a glass. Even the rattle and bang behind the bar ceased. I didn’t have to glance around to know every eye in the place turned from Jonny to me. Or that Harry stuck his head through the service window to gape.
Robert’s eyes flashed with anger. I swallowed the knot in my throat. “Robert, I have fifty customers. Jonny has a point about your timing.”
I stepped around him to blindly approach the closest table. “Did you decide on an appetizer, sir?”
The stranger grinned, like the side show came with the meal. “How about the braised artichoke and tenderloin skewers?”
“Excellent choice. Medium rare?” At his nod, I squeaked, “I’ll just go place your order.”
I spun, dashing inside to the bar. Shoving my tray into Harry’s hands, I pointed in the direction of the service entrance. “I’m on break. Don’t even waste your breath saying I can’t go right now. Twenty-three wants an order of ‘chokes and loin, medium rare. Deal with it.”
Picking my way through puddles of dishwater and spilled cooking oil, I knocked aside anyone who didn’t move. Slamming the service door open, I sucked down big gulps of cold night air.
The small stoop in the delivery bay left little room for pacing, but I marched the three steps to one railing, spun, and marched the other way.
The most promising job opportunity I’d found was an assistant manager at The Gap, for fuck’s sake, but it was a thirty-minute drive to Greenville. I’d make more money right here at the bar, but not enough to let me rent an apartment, have Wi-Fi, and still eat.
“Oh, I know. I can sleep in the Audi.”
Or stay with Francine.
But everyone else was pulling out of here in May.
Meanwhile, two hours up the interstate, the perfect job waited, and I couldn’t take it. People were whispering that Dale had cheated to beat Kolby Barnes, and just to make everything perfect, I’d fucked up Jonny’s brilliant plan to stop Dale from partnering with Jesse Hancock.
Leather soles scuffed the steps. I dropped my hands from my cheeks, meeting Jonny’s dark eyes. He still had his hands buried in his front pants pockets. Climbing the short flight of stairs, he held my gaze.
“Hands on the fucking rail.”
I blinked.
“Now.” Jerking his hands free of his pockets, he dropped his zipper. “Do it, Shelby.”
The command hit me like a punch, low in my belly. Where the fuck were you an hour ago? My feet obeyed without a conscious command from my brain.
He jerked up the hem of my dress, then raked my underwear down. After delivering a sharp slap to my hip, he gripped the stinging spot, moving closer. Out on the street, not forty feet away, cars glided along the northeast side of the big hotel. Guests could turn up anywhere. Anyone could come out of the kitchen door at any time.
The risk drove me higher.
Jonny didn’t waste time with foreplay. He lined up his cock with my entrance. Wrapping my ponytail around his fist, he jerked my head back. His voice was a growl in my ear.
“Does he bend you over and let his friends watch him fuck you?” His fingers dug into my hips, yanking me onto his cock. Want surged in my nipples. I cried out at the forceful entry, even as I grew wet.
“No,” I gasped. “Of course not.”
&nb
sp; “Does he let his frat buddies fuck you while he watches?”
I had to wait through the flurry of hard thrusts to answer. “No.”
“Then what the fuck are you doing with him?” He drove his cock deep.
“Trying to forget about my goddamn brothers!”
“Oh, girl, that’s wasted time. Up on your toes.”
I lifted. The move allowed him to seat deeper inside me.
“Good girl.” His driving pace pinned me to the rail. The head of his cock battered the spot where my belly met the metal, striking hot sparks inside me. “So damn good. You like it rough and dirty. He’ll never give you this.”
I rocked back, meeting every thrust. He let go of one breast to rake my dress up in front. Shoving his hand between my legs, he found my clit, using nearly as much pressure as—
“Oh, yeah, Caine told me how you like it, remember? That day out on the country road? When you couldn’t figure out how to heat up Colt’s goddamn tires? That’s when the man you need to be with told me how to get you hot. It was a beautiful thing, that freedom, that connection you don’t fucking have with Robert.”
“Yes,” I cried. “I remember. I wish I could fucking forget.”
“You’ll never forget all those hot summer nights, racing and fucking.” He somehow jerked my ponytail again. His teeth? My knees went weak. “Will you?”
“N-no.” He let go of my hair. His cock sank deep.
“So, this is for Colt.” He stopped talking, putting all his energy into fucking me as hard as I’d ever been fucked. Sweat trickled down my sides. My thighs trembled, from the fear of discovery, as much as arousal. His thighs slapped my ass. No one within earshot could possibly mistake the sound.
The thought made me wetter.
Stopping without warning, he nipped my earlobe. “And this is for Caine.”
He settled into a gentler pace, giving me every inch, yet drawing out the sweet pleasure. All the slow torture did was jack up my sense of urgency. Need drove me so high, my head spun. He found my beaded nipple, stroking the point while he rocked into me.
“Jonny.”
“What, baby?”
