I shake a bit of sand from the pages, which is exactly why I didn’t bring the Kindle. I’d have a coronary if anything happened to my all-access source of smut. “What? This is one of the best books I’ve read all year. The vampire has OCD. He’s compelled to swab the skin of his prey with an antimicrobial three times before he bites. The guy has issues.”
She sits up, her weight on her elbows. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Cali, there’s some deep stuff in here. The vampire’s habits tip off his prey. The poor guy is malnourished because of his psychological problems.”
She stares in stunned silence, then points—“Literature intervention. Tonight. That shit is garbage.”—and flops onto her stomach.
Not good. The last time Cali gave me a literature intervention, she forced Faulkner on me. I fell asleep before I finished the first page. For two weeks straight.
“Look, if I want to read for intellectual stimulation, I’ll pull out a psych text. Don’t you ever want to escape into a fantasy world?”
She looks up and squints. “Why would I want to do that?”
Right. Cali didn’t grow up with financial stability, but she had a dedicated, supportive mother. Not that Chantell was the worst mom in the world. She was just… different. Cali knows more than most people do about my mom, but not everything. No one knows the whole story. Not even me. “Books were my escape growing up and they still are. I like to be swept into a world of happy endings.”
Cali mumbles something about quality books, then goes silent. I think she has finally fallen asleep, which is good, because I could really use my fantasy world right now. Real life is too stressful.
So much for hoping Lewis wouldn’t show. Nessa arrived thirty minutes ago, along with everyone else from the dinner party. I’ve managed to avoid Lewis, and Mira has helped. She hasn’t left Lewis’s side for more than five minutes and grips him like he’s her personal life preserver.
Does he like that sort of thing? Seems clingy to me. I’m not jealous. In fact, Lewis appears to be avoiding me as much as I’m avoiding him, which is great. I haven’t caught him looking at me once. Which means I’ve been looking to see if he’s looking, and I need to stop.
Zach is at the barbecue, grilling all manner of deliciousness, smoke and beef-scented steam stimulating my salivary glands. Just one more hot dog. That can’t hurt, right?
There’s a chance I have an unusually large appetite for a woman my size. Okay, my appetite is enormous. Cali has never commented on it, but guys I’ve dated have made rude remarks. Let’s just say those jerks didn’t last long. I don’t date guys who think women should eat like rabbits, and I’m on the slender side anyway.
“What’s up, Gen?” Zach says happily as I approach. He turns one of the hot dogs, revealing a golden brown underside. My stomach rumbles even though I just fed it a hot dog and chips.
I glance at the others we’re with. “Are you the only one who knows how to cook?”
He laughs. “They know, but I do it better,” he says with a saucy grin. He gestures to the food on the grill. “Did you want more?”
I open my mouth to speak, but Zach focuses on something over my shoulder. “Shit,” he says. “I think Mira’s telling the story about how our high school football coach let a freshman twerk on him. I gotta hear this.”
Zach hands Lewis the barbecue tongs—where did he come from? I glance behind to make sure I’m not seeing double, but it’s only Nessa and Cali with Mira. Zach heads off, calling over his shoulder, “Man the ’cue, Lewis. Back in a sec.”
Lewis scrapes the edge of the utensil, removing black soot. He turns several hot dogs in a row. “What can I get you, Gen?”
My mind goes blank. These are the first words he’s said to me since I met him last night, though I feel like we’ve said and done more, as if we rounded second base without hitting first. It’s awkward.
“Um, just a hot dog.”
He looks at me from beneath his lashes. “How long are you staying in town?”
Is he asking because he wants to get to know me, or is he making idle chitchat? “I’m going back to Dawson at the end of August.”
He nods. “Planning on getting in any of those hikes?”
A reference to the conversation from last night? The one he wasn’t a part of because he and Mira were bickering? Had he been listening? “Yeah, and running,” I say. “The trails sound beautiful.”
Lewis slips a hot dog on a bun using the barbecue tongs and hands it to me while Zach walks up, shaking his head, a wry smile on his face. His eyes narrow on the food I’m holding. “Nice.” He nods in approval. “I like a girl who can eat.”
Heat radiates off my face, though I know he meant the comment good-naturedly.
Lewis passes the cooking reins to his friend and walks around the barbecue, placing a hand on my shoulder. He leans down, and I’m hyperaware of the heat from his touch, the scent of pine and soap—his lips inches from my ear. “I’d be happy to show you the trails sometime.”
I look into his eyes. Seductive, flirty. This is officially a hit-on—with his girlfriend a few feet away. It’s so wrong I don’t even know where to begin.
He studies my features, head tipping back at the expression on my face. “Enjoy the barbecue,” he mumbles, mouth contorting into a grimace possibly intended as a smile. He walks away.
I can’t believe this. Am I some kind of cheater magnet? I breathe in and out to steady the shaking in my arms and walk across to where Cali is standing by the picnic table. I throw out the uneaten food, unable to stomach it right now.
Lewis nears Mira, but he peers out at the lake, his face tense, one hand jammed in his pocket, the other gripping the back of his neck. A lock of chocolate hair sticks up on the side of his head as if he scrubbed it with his fingers. Cali glances between me and Lewis.
“I have to leave. Now,” I tell her. If I don’t, I might combust out of frustration.
Lewis doesn’t seem like a jerk, but he must be if he has a girlfriend and is asking to spend time with me.
So why is he such a temptation?
Cali’s eyes widen. “You okay?”
I nod and we make a hasty exit no one seems to notice, except the one person I’m trying to avoid. The heat of Lewis’s stare follows me all the way to the car.
“Gen, what the hell was that?” Cali strains to see the barbecue area and the person I’m not allowing myself to look at.
“Something that has to stop.”
Chapter Three
I give Cali a quick wave as I pass the blackjack pit where she’s dealing this week, and walk up the few steps to the Mont Belle Lounge. The few encounters I had with Lewis almost seem like they never happened. I haven’t thought about him in days. Well, not much, anyway. And I haven’t seen him. Which is a good thing, because his presence confused me, and I don’t need that in my life.
“Execs are coming in for some kind of meet-and-greet,” the waitress standing across from the bartender tells me. Her name is Amber and she’s not handing off the lounge to me at the beginning of my shift like normal. “They need two of us for the party.” She pops a maraschino cherry in her mouth and chews while she talks. “I’ve got tables one through ten. You can have eleven through twenty, except fifteen. That customer’s mine until they leave.”
Like most Blue waitresses, Amber is pretty, with tawny, highlighted hair and blue eyes. She doesn’t look older than me, but she’s worked here a while. She has seniority, and that trumps all.
I glance at my area, located at the rear of the bar with the least amount of foot traffic. The only table occupied is the one Amber wants—and they have a bottle of Dom Pérignon.
Of course.
Dom sells for a couple hundred a bottle. The party will likely order another and Amber doesn’t want to miss out on a lucrative tip, even if technically she should hand over all my tables.
Sometimes I feel like I’m back in junior high. Everyone at Blue is out for themselves, cutthroat for populari
ty, or in this case, access to deep pockets.
It ends up not mattering. Executives soon jam Mont Belle, filling the tables, including my lowly ones in the rear. I’m happily adding up the tips I’ve earned so far and mentally applying it to my grad school fund, when the last person I want to see walks in.
I freeze, my heels sinking into the carpet. The A-hole, my two-timing ex, makes his way over, his pale hair purposely tousled, his too-far-apart eyes glinting like he sees something he likes. And yes, he walks like he’s got a rod up his ass. Thanks, Mom, for that mental image.
“Hey.” He checks out my uniform from top to bottom. “You look great. Didn’t know you were working here this summer.”
My throat clenches. Somehow, getting checked out by my ex is worse than from a stranger. “What are you doing here?”
“Just hanging with the boys. No girls allowed… unless you want to join us?”
He cannot be serious.
I never called him out on the two-timing bullshit. He probably believes I’d go back to him. “I’m busy.”
His gaze dips to my chest and holds for an overlong moment. “You sure?”
The A-hole has never seen my boobs in the light. There’s a possibility I was uptight with him in the sexual department. I can see how the girls served up on a platter—thanks to my stupid uniform—would be an ogling opportunity too tempting to pass up.
I still want to slap him. He screwed me over and he thinks he can waltz in here and pick me up?
I grind my teeth, mentally forming a cutting, ranting, screw-off reply—which takes too long because I’m no good at it—when Jaeger strides in.
I totally get why Cali flirts with Jaeger. He’s tall and built, and sort of difficult to miss.
Jaeger sweeps around and hugs me from behind, his mouth near my ear. “Play along. I’m your boyfriend until this loser takes off.”
I sag into his arms. Yes. The gods are watching over me today.
Cali was right. Jaeger and Mason are decent guys.
Jaeger lays it on heavy, nuzzling my neck. I’m trying not to laugh out of nervousness, and because Jaeger’s tickling the shit out of my skin. The A-hole’s face turns a purplish-red and he shifts from foot to foot, his jaw clenched.
“You think you can get away for a couple of hours tomorrow afternoon?” Jaeger whispers as if we’re just hanging, drinking a beer, not trying to make my prick of an ex-boyfriend uncomfortable enough to leave. “There’s something I want to show Cali, and you’re her best friend. I want your approval.”
Wait—hold up. Jaeger and Cali flirt, but is he serious about her? Cali and her jerk boyfriend just broke up a few days ago, so she is single now. This could be so awesome.
I nod and smile lovingly at my not-a-boyfriend for my ex’s benefit, who is still here. Persistent much? Delusional?
“I’ll pick you up at lunchtime,” Jaeger says loudly.
The A-hole grunts and stomps off. Both of us ignore him, but the second he’s gone, Jaeger releases me, dropping his lover-like stance.
“That was amazing,” I say. “How did you know to do that?”
His gaze flickers to Cali, who’s observing us from the pit. Is she upset? She looks upset. Jaeger flashes a broad smile my way. “Cali said you didn’t want that guy around.”
“Not at all. Thank you. I owe you one.”
“Nah.” He shakes his head. His eyes flicker to the side without quite catching on Cali this time. “But I could use your opinion. I was serious when I asked if you’re available tomorrow.”
“Totally, anything you want.”
“Great, except—um—maybe don’t mention it to Cali? I mean, she’ll know we’re going somewhere, but if you could keep what we do between us, I would appreciate it.”
“Okay.” Very mysterious, but whatever this is, it’s for Cali and I’ll help any way I can.
Jaeger takes off and I return to work, but my mind isn’t in it. It felt good to unleash some payback on my ex. True, I had help. Okay, a lot of help, but still, I’m fired up. I don’t like to think I cower before men, but the truth is, I tend to avoid confrontation with guys—disregarding warning signs and discovering too late that the A-hole had a girlfriend back home being a case in point.
I’m probably scarred from not having a father figure. Excellent.
A sharp pause in the atmosphere has my mind snapping to attention. The man I just served is staring, an indulgent smile playing along his lips. “Are you okay?”
“Sorry, what?” Jesus, get it together. Bad enough I let a guy nuzzle me during my shift. Executives are in the lounge. I need to keep my head in the game. These people could be the ones signing my paychecks.
“I asked your name.”
This man looks familiar. He’s wearing a loosened blood-red tie and white dress shirt, as though he just left his glass-encased office. I’m sure I’ve seen him in the lounge before. Good looking and young. Older than me, but not as old as the suits I typically serve. The man he’s with is equally put together, and they are totally out of place in my section at the rear of the bar. But between the executive meet-and-greet and our regulars, they didn’t have much choice.
“I’m Gen.”
His gaze slides over the length of me, then returns to my eyes. A calculating smile pulls the corners of his lips. “Jennifer?”
My shoulders curl in. “No, it’s Genevieve.”
“Where’re you from, Genevieve?”
“Dawson. I just graduated.” Dawson’s only a couple of hours away. Most people around here have heard of it.
“Well, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Drake Peterson, head of finance.” Literally signing my paychecks and I was zoning out in front of him. “How do you like working at Blue? Everyone treating you well?”
“They’re great.” No way am I telling this guy about the waitress pettiness.
“Good, well, maybe you’ll stay on. Some of the waitresses have been here a while, but with the right connections you can do well.” His gaze drops to my chest again. Gah.
Between my ex and now Drake, I’m being tested, I swear.
“Thank you. So far, I’m doing okay.”
In reality, I could use a break to regroup after the A-hole encounter. I glance at the time on my watch, which I remembered to wear for once. I typically rely on my iPhone, but given I can’t squeeze anything more than boobs and ass in this uniform, I’m rolling old school.
I serve a few more customers and check in with Amber. She scowls as I give her the rundown before going on break. She’ll have to take over my shitty section for a while, which means more work, less money, and she’s understandably unhappy about it. Even with the exec overflow, the majority of my clients are low tippers, but Amber will just have to deal.
On my way out, I notify my tables I’m leaving. “Amber will be your new server,” I tell Drake and his friend. “Is there anything I can get you before I go?”
“You’ve taken good care of us, Genevieve.” Drake reaches inside his coat pocket. “Don’t hesitate to ask if you need anything.” He hands me a business card, a thick gold band with a dark sapphire glinting on his finger.
I mumble, “Thank you,” and walk away, shaking off the dirty feeling he gives me.
I peer across the floor before stepping down from the lounge and spy Cali beside Zach. They’re busy shuffling and counting, or whatever it is they do, the pit boss hovering like a guard dog. I don’t want to get Cali in trouble, but I’d love to vent about the A-hole.
Cocktail waitresses move in and out around the blackjack tables, taking orders and clearing glasses. Nothing unusual about me going over there—unless the person serving Cali’s table sees me. A senior waitress might think I’m trying to steal customers and decide to haze me with something other than princess references.
The things I stress about on this job—seriously junior high.
Screw it. I walk up to Cali’s table and wait off to the side. One of her customers leaves and I flag her through the hole in the cro
wd, mimicking biting into a sandwich. I gesture to the basement entrance and she nods stiffly—which is odd. Cali is laid-back. I’m the uptight one in our duo. Is she stressed?
The place is packed tonight. Understandable if she can’t meet me, but I hope she does. The A-hole’s presence is cause for a best-friend gossip session.
On my way to the employee door, I run into Nessa. “Hey there,” I say with a smile. “What are you up to?”
She points to a hole the size of a fist in her pantyhose, a nylon run stretching the length of her leg and disappearing into her shoe. “Gotta change.”
“Impressive. How’d that happen?” I open the door to the basement and we make our way down.
“Snagged it on a bottle opener. You on break?”
I nod. “I needed one. My ex showed up and cornered me.” A repulsed shiver jolts my spine. I really owe Jaeger one.
“Oooh.” Her face scrunches. “That bad? You tell the guy you’re not interested?”
“I kind of froze. By the time I got it together, someone stepped in.”
I walk Nessa to the vending machine—yes, there’s a pantyhose vending machine. Nylons are a requirement with our uniforms, as if microthin material covering asscheeks will make the uniforms classier. Pantyhose mishaps like Nessa’s are a frequent occurrence.
She pushes in a few quarters and out pops a pair of extra-small, sheer black nylons.
My mouth twists, the encounter with Drake Peterson nagging me. “Nessa, have you ever had an executive hand over his business card and offer to help you?”
“What?” she says with an uneasy smile. She pulls the pantyhose from the box. “Um, no. When did that happen?”
“Right after my ex showed.”
She stares. “Okay, you have man problems.”
“Right?”
“Right.” She opens her locker and kicks off her heels. “Maybe you need to step up your inner lioness. You have this sweet, vulnerable disposition, which is kind of awesome because you’re beautiful and you don’t act like it, but people take advantage of that shit.”
Mountain Man Page 3
