by J. Daniels
He didn’t respect love.
And that disgusted me.
“I am not interested in being gotten,” I snapped, nostrils flaring. “Like I said, I’m with someone. I’m happy. I’m taken. Maybe that doesn’t mean anything to you, but it sure as hell means everything to me. In terms of losing, you’ve already lost. I’m not available. So if that’s all you’re here for, you can go ahead and take your conceited ass right on back out into the storm. If it’s not, you’ve got five seconds to give me your order before I walk away for good. I like tips, but I don’t need yours. It won’t be any loss to me.”
“You ain’t taken, babe. And I did not fuckin’ lose,” he repeated, a little firmer this time.
Apparently those were the only parts of my speech he’d heard.
I brought my hand clutching the pen up to my hip and fisted it there, knowing if I didn’t, I’d probably end up throwing a punch, and if I did that, I’d be out of a job. For sure.
And I really liked this job.
“Three seconds,” I hissed.
He smiled, looked at my hand fisted at my hip, studied it for two out of the three seconds he had left, and then met my gaze when he quickly ordered, “BBQ chicken biscuit. Extra sauce.”
“You want something to drink with that?”
“Cherry Coke.”
“We don’t have Cherry Coke.”
“You got Coke and grenadine syrup?”
I did a quick mental scan of the bottles we had lined up underneath the counter.
“Yes,” I murmured, having remembered spotting the grenadine bottle.
“Then you got Cherry Coke.” Jamie slapped his hand down on the menu sitting in front of him and slid it to the edge of the table.
I reached to retrieve it, tugged on the corner with the two fingers not clutching my pen, and met resistance when he refused to lift his hand.
He stared at me, at my eyes, my lips, the line of my neck revealed from my hair being gathered over one shoulder, and lower, my breasts down to my toes and back up again.
I glared at him, watching his eyes do this appraising wander, and the longer it went on, the more irritated I became.
“You finished?” I grated.
“With you?” He met my gaze. His eyes were burning now. “No fuckin’ way,” he growled.
“I’m taken,” I repeated.
“You ain’t taken, Legs. Not unless you’re with me.”
This jerk was mental. “That will never happen,” I promised. “And my name is Tori. Not Legs.”
Jamie grinned. “We’ll see about that,” he said, lifting his hand and allowing me to take the menu.
I didn’t know if he was referring to the taken argument or the nickname and I didn’t want to ask. Truth be told, I just wanted to get away from him.
If he grinned at me one more time, I might actually throw that punch.
I spun around, walked to the hostess podium to drop off the menu, ignored the eyes burning into my profile coming from the loser’s booth, and marched toward the kitchen, weaving between tables all while jotting down the order on my ticket book.
Shay saw me coming and slid off the counter. “Great news!” she squealed when I reached her. “Stitch doesn’t care if we call him Stitch. He’s cool with it.” She turned her head and asked through the window, “Right, Stitch?”
Stitch was facing the stove so I couldn’t see his face, but I didn’t miss the slight jerk of his head as he acknowledged Shay.
“That’s about all he’s been giving me,” she whispered. “I took it as a good sign.”
Shay stepped away.
I watched her walk over to her two-top, then risked a glance in Jamie’s direction and caught him smiling at me.
Squaring off, I reached into my apron pocket like I was searching for something, lifted my hand back out, keeping all but one finger curled under, and flipped him off.
Anytime, Jamie mouthed.
Ugh! Jerk!
Grunting, I spun around, ripped the ticket off my book, and slid the thin paper across the metal lip of the window.
I opened my mouth to alert Stitch of the order when a piece of food flipped off the grill and onto the floor. It went sliding across the tile when he kicked it out of the way with his boot.
Hello, fantastic little lightbulb flashing above my head.
Rolling up onto my toes, I leaned closer to the window and inquired, “Is there any chance you’d be interested in letting a piece of BBQ chicken hang out on the floor for five seconds before sliding it onto a biscuit? I got a loser who needs a lesson in manners.”
Stitch turned his head and peered at me behind the pieces of long blond hair hanging in his eyes.
I rocked back onto my heels.
“He deserves it,” I quickly added, worried I was pissing off the hard-looking man by requesting this and blowing my shot at payback. “Really. I wouldn’t ask if he didn’t.”
Stitch didn’t say anything for several stress-filled seconds, then shook his head and muttered a rough “what-the-fuck-ever” under his breath, turning away and going back to the food he was cooking that hadn’t been dropped yet. “You take the fall if this comes back to me,” he ordered.
“Deal.”
Yes! Eat shit, Loser!
I spun around, nearly doing a twirl I was so happy, looked across the room directly at Jamie, and watched that jerk’s smile turn into a full-blown grin that no longer bothered me.
The tile floor back in the kitchen had to be disgusting. He’d get sick from the food. Sick enough he’d never want to eat here again. There was no doubt in my mind.
This would be the last time Jamie McCade ever stepped foot inside Whitecaps.
And knowing that, I couldn’t help myself.
I grinned right on back.
Chapter One
TORI
Nine months later
“He’s here again,” Kali whispered in my ear as I stood at the bar facing the kitchen, filling a mason jar with sweet tea for one of my patrons.
I breathed deep through my nose.
God…damn it.
I didn’t need to ask who she was talking about. I didn’t need to turn around.
There was only one “he” that she could’ve been referring to. The same “he” that everyone was always referring to when I didn’t catch the Loser walking into Whitecaps myself and had to be told about it.
Jamie McCade. Gorgeous dickhead.
Local asshole.
Biggest player on the planet.
And the man who would not catch a hint and leave me the hell alone.
I didn’t get it. I was never in the mood to see him, meaning I was never even remotely nice to him when he came in here, giving him nothing but shitty service and killer attitude, and still he kept coming back for more.
And he apparently never got sick!
That was seriously annoying.
I was sure he’d have caught something by now with the amount of germs covering the food I was serving him, but nope. Nothing. He always looked bright-eyed and stupidly energetic, which had me convinced: Jamie was either on a constant dose of antibiotics or had the strongest immune system in the entire world.
I was betting on the antibiotics. He was probably a regular at the local clinic for STD treatment. In fact, I was certain he frequented it so often he was getting reward points toward one free prescription of choice.
Disgusting.
He…was…disgusting. And he was sitting in my section—this I knew for sure without turning around—because he was always sitting in my section, and for some reason, my girls didn’t have my back and were always seating him in my section.
Take sweet-faced Kali, for example. Awesome girl with an adorable kid. And currently blushing because she’d been the one to seat Jamie where I’d be responsible for serving him even though I’d asked her and Shay repeatedly not to do such a thing.
It wasn’t entirely her fault, or Shay when she let it happen, this I knew. And it was why I cou
ldn’t get mad at either one of them for it.
Jamie had proven time and time again that it didn’t matter if he was seated in someone else’s section or not. After being greeted by whichever waitress he ended up with, he’d tip her for the greeting, stand up, find my section by process of elimination, and move to it.
Every. Single. Time.
Now? Shay and Kali took him to my section on the first go because what was the point?
He wanted me as his waitress and he got me as his waitress. He’d make sure of that.
I was officially stuck.
I could be a bitch. I could give him shitty service. I could grow a new disease on his food and make him eat it.
Jamie McCade was unstoppable.
And the parts of me that didn’t mind looking at something so beautiful hated him for it.
Yes, unfortunately on top of being the most irritating man in the history of irritating men, Jamie was beautiful.
He was cocky. He was unashamed. He was over-the-top pigheaded and spoke like a Neanderthal wielding a club.
And he was beautiful.
It sucked.
Seriously.
I’d noticed the first day he walked in here and I’d been noticing ever since. But I would never admit it. No way.
Not to him. Not to Kali or Shay, who I knew would agree with me. Not to Syd, my best girl, who I admitted everything to.
Not to anyone. Not ever.
He’d always be a loser. He’d always be a player. He’d always be the man who disrespected my relationship, even though my previous relationship with Wes turned out to be nothing more than a joke—one I wasn’t in on until I was being introduced to his wife and sweet-looking daughter in the middle of a crowded mall—didn’t matter, though. Jamie wasn’t in on the joke either and so, unknowing, he still disrespected it.
It didn’t matter how he looked. His heart was ugly. His soul was ugly. And nothing was going to change my opinion.
“What are the chances he hasn’t spotted me yet and I can sneak out the back?” I asked Kali, turning to her after setting down the pitcher of sweet tea. “I get off soon anyway. You could cover for me with Nate if he asks where I am. Say I’m sick. Say I was kidnapped. Whatever. Just make up something.”
Today had been a great day. A ten-hour-shift delight. Great tips. Friendly customers. I really didn’t want to end my night on a low note and go home grumpy.
So if I could find some way of getting out of serving Jamie, I’d take it. Even if it meant getting shit from Nate.
“He already spotted you,” Kali replied without pause.
I pinched my eyes shut and muttered a disappointed “Damn.”
“Yeah…sorry. It was pretty immediate.” I watched Kali look over my shoulder, wince, then look back to me to add, “He’s currently spotting you right now.”
Of course he was.
I turned my head and saw dimples and brilliant blues.
Then shifting my attention left, I saw a group of teenage girls sitting in the booth next to Jamie, whispering and talking closely with one another while craning their necks around to stare at him.
Perfect. Just feed his ego, why don’t you.
“Whatever,” I sighed, turning away to pop a slice of lemon into the tea. “Maybe today will be the day he catches something fatal from the food and I’ll never have to look at him again.”
Fingers crossed Stitch tracked in something deadly back there and coated the tile with it.
“I don’t think I want him to die,” Kali admitted quietly. She bit her lip when I frowned at her. “Just…maybe he could get sick but with a full recovery? I could support that.”
I rolled my eyes.
“You’re just as bad as Syd. You know that?” I clipped. “She’s so Team Jamie at this point, I’m certain her first child will be named after him. I don’t even believe her anymore when she tells me she got Stitch to do something to his food. I think she’s faking it.”
Syd was the only other person Jamie ever allowed to wait on him, and I swore she loved every second of it.
I think it had everything to do with her being locked down with his best friend.
Brian and Syd were magical. Meeting under the craziest circumstances a few months ago and then building something from that, something beautiful. I was over the moon happy for my best girl and couldn’t imagine anyone better suited for her than Brian.
He had all the potential in the world.
Syd was over the moon happy, too, blissed out and fanatically in love, and because of this, she was wanting to pair me up with her boy’s closest friend, I just knew she was. The signs were all there.
And they were becoming more obvious with each passing day.
She was constantly bringing Jamie up and bragging about him whenever we were together, throwing his name into conversations he had no business being in but doing it casually so as to not raise suspicions until I later thought back and realized what she’d been doing.
Plus, there was the whole assigned seating arrangement during Sunday dinner—the tradition Syd started a few weeks ago that had everyone, including Jamie, gathering at her and Brian’s house and eating together.
Syd was putting out place cards now, and every time, without fail, mine would be directly next to Jamie’s.
No way was that coincidental like she was always telling me. I was so onto her.
“I just don’t think he’s an asshole like you think he’s an asshole,” Kali explained, pointing at her chest. “I know assholes. Believe me. I know them all too well.” She shifted her eyes away, then lowered them, pulling her lips between her teeth and appearing deep in thought.
She was referring to her son Cameron’s father. Although I’d never met him, I’d heard enough to know he was definitely an asshole. Kali didn’t deserve his shit, but she still got it dished on her anyway.
And because of this, I decided to drop the asshole debate. Then my eyes caught sight of the cute side braid she was rocking, and I had a perfect subject change.
“Your hair looks really sweet like that, by the way,” I said. I’d meant to tell her earlier but kept forgetting when I got caught up in waitress duties.
Seeing as she was getting quiet on me and most likely thinking about the shit her ex was always dishing out, now seemed like the perfect time to boost her spirits with a compliment.
And I was right.
Kali looked up, reached for the braid that was hanging over one shoulder, and wrapped her hand around the end of it. “Thanks,” she said, smiling big. “That means a lot.”
“Of course, babe.”
I gave her a wink before I turned around and walked out from behind the counter with the mason jar.
After checking on all my tables twice, I finally took my time walking over to Jamie’s booth. And before I could utter the most impersonal greeting in the history of impersonal greetings, I was forced to witness fangirl flirting on an eye-rolling level.
“You’re Jamie McCade, right?” asked one of the girls from the booth next to Jamie.
She stood on her knees, angled forward with her elbows resting on the back of the seat, her head tipped down as she dragged the tip of her finger across her glossed bottom lip and gazed at him from behind her false lashes.
Her friends giggled with their hands to their mouths.
Give me a break.
“The one and only,” Jamie replied with a smirk.
“Oh, my God. We are your biggest fans,” another girl quickly said. “Like, in the entire world. We love watching you. We think you’re so hot.”
Squeals and muffled “oh, my Gods” erupted from the other side of the booth.
Jamie laughed quietly under his breath.
I was a giggle away from choking on my own vomit.
The first girl elbowed her friend, shushing her, then turned back to Jamie and, with a voice sounding years older than she most likely was, said to him, “I hear you give private lessons. Do you think you could teach me? I’m a fast l
earner and very eager to please.”
“Wow,” I murmured through a chuckle, looking between desperation and head-up-his-own-ass. “How ’bout I give you two a minute to work out your little underage arrangement. I don’t need to witness this. I’ll be back.” I moved to turn and step away when a hand gripped my forearm, halting me. I whipped my head around and glared at Jamie, yanking my arm out of his hold. “Get off.”
“I’m ready to order,” he told me, his face serious. He turned to the other booth and said, “Call Wax. You can set up your lesson time over the phone.”
The girl looked down at my arm as if Jamie was still attached to it, narrowed her eyes, then glanced from my face to Jamie’s, waiting until she landed on his before she showed her smile again.
“Great. I’m really looking forward to it,” she said, her voice lowering to a purr.
“Right on,” he replied.
“Totally,” she responded.
“God, it’s like I can feel myself getting dumber just from listening to this,” I commented, wincing as I rubbed my temples.
The girl eager for a lesson scoffed, shot me a hard look, then gave a much softer one to Jamie before she spun around and plopped back down in her booth.
Probably for the best. I was certain her kid’s meal was getting cold.
“You are so fuckin’ cute when you’re jealous,” Jamie said, his lips curling up. “I dig that, babe.”
“What do you want?” I asked, ignoring his comment, which was both absurd and completely untrue—in no way was I jealous—all while pulling out my pen and ticket book. I clicked the pen open and began doodling on the top of the ticket, writing Loser in a fancy script and adding devil’s horns and a pitchfork.
It was some of my best work.
Jamie chuckled under his breath. “Not bothering with the greeting today, Legs?” he asked.
I kept my gaze focused on my doodle as I continued tracing, and answered, “What’s the point? You never use my name anyway, no matter how many times I’ve asked you to.”
“I use your name a lot, babe.”
That admission drew my head up and paused my hand. He used my name a lot? No, he didn’t. He never used my name. I would’ve absolutely remembered hearing it, marked the occasion on my calendar, and looked back on it as the day hell froze over.
