Chapter 2
One Big Disaster
Harley
Fuck this.
I don’t get paid enough to deal with morons like this guy. I narrow my gaze at the slimeball. “I didn’t say anything when you accidentally-on-purpose touched my ass, so now you’re doubling your efforts to catch my attention.”
He shrugs. “I asked for your number, you said no. I offered to pick you up after your shift, you turned me down. I suggested I give you my number, that fell on deaf ears. I’m a great catch, you know.” An oily smile spreads across his face.
His buddies snicker.
A great catch for venereal diseases, I’m sure.
“Come on. One date, Harley.”
I hate that the idiot knows my name because it’s pinned to my chest.
I shake my head. I’d rather plunge both hands in the deep fryer in the kitchen. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go check up on my other tables.”
I ready myself to turn around, but a hand grabs my wrist.
I lower my eyes to the hairy fingers before lifting my gaze to shoot daggers at the man who thinks he has the right to touch me. “Let. Go.”
He smirks.
Asshole.
I yank my wrist away from his iron grip. The momentum sends me stumbling backward and into someone.
“Crap,” the person says.
I glance over my shoulder in time to witness a coworker holding a tray weighed down with plates of food lose her balance. A loud clang booms in the dining area as a clutter of dishes hit the floor before tomato sauce splashes everywhere.
My gaze drops to my uniform.
My white shirt resembles a poor man’s Jackson Pollock painting.
A woman lets out a piercing scream that makes my blood run cold.
Patrons gasp.
I turn around.
My eyes meet horrified blue ones and my mouth drops open.
The woman’s white suit is covered in spaghetti bolognese.
She gets up, places her fists at her waist, and shoots lasers at me.
Fuck my life. “I’m sorry,” I say. I grab a cloth napkin and dip it into a glass of water with the intention of wiping the gunk off this poor woman.
“Do you have any idea how much this suit cost?”
All movements freeze.
More money than I have to my name. “I’m sorry.”
“What kind of incompetent waitress are you? Don’t you have eyes? My suit is ruined. RUINED!”
A lump forms in my throat.
I can’t even do this stupid job without screwing up.
“I’m so, so sorry, ma’am.”
“Your apology is useless to me. You’re useless. USELESS!”
Thanks for ripping me a new one.
My gaze shifts to the slimeball––the real culprit in this shit show.
I want to pluck the pasta from this poor woman’s suit and force-feed it down the idiot’s throat to wipe that stupid smirk from his face.
Suit lady gasps.
I follow her gaze to her Hermes crocodile bag sitting on the chair.
“Thank God at the last minute I decided to go with the black bag instead of the white one.” She huffs.
I can’t imagine ruining a six-figure designer handbag.
“I would’ve lost my shit had you ruined my beloved white Birkin.”
Because you aren’t losing your shit right now?
She looks me up and down, her lips curled in disgust. “Everything about you screams disaster. One big DISASTER.”
I flinch.
Ouch. You don’t even know me, and yet, you’ve sized me up so well. And for shits and giggles, you put it out there so the whole world can stamp the label on my forehead.
“You’re costing me money. MONEY!”
Her habit of repeating everything twice and yelling the insult is grating at my nerves.
“I’ll have to cancel all my afternoon appointments because of you.” She brushes a lock of jet-black hair with blonde highlights behind her ear, smearing bolognese sauce in her hair. “I need to speak to the manager.”
Shit. My life is in the midst of a deep nosedive. I can’t afford to lose this job.
The determination in this woman’s eyes is unsettling. She wants blood.
I sigh, defeated. “I’ll get him––”
“One of your colleagues needs to get him.” The woman’s face is as red as the stains on her suit.
“You’re not getting out of my sight. If you think you’re going to wiggle your way out of this situation, you have another think coming.
I’m not leaving this restaurant until I get your contact information. ”
I draw in a breath. “Why do you need my contact information?”
She crosses her arms and looks down at me from her six-inch white high heels, which are also stained with tomato sauce.
I cringe.
“Who do you think is going to pay for my sixty-five-hundred-dollar suit?”
My eyes bulge out of my skull. Sixty-five-hundred dollars? “I… I don’t have that kind of money.” My voice spikes upwards.
“Tough luck.” The woman sneers. “I don’t care if you have to prostitute yourself, I expect you to cough up the money.”
God, I wish I could bitch slap her.
Maybe I should become an escort instead of busting my ass as a waitress. The pay would be a lot better. I wouldn’t be catering to entitled assholes. I wouldn’t have a toxic, helicopter boss hovering over me when I’m at work. And I sure as hell wouldn’t have to deal with this kind of drama.
“I won’t hesitate to sue you or this restaurant.”
A burst of giggles threatens to erupt. Only I would find myself in this colossal mess. This job was my lifeline to dig myself out of my precarious situation. The slimeball’s inability to understand the meaning of the word no lands me in a sea of trouble.
Fuck, I’m going to sink further into a financial abyss.
This latest farce is a reflection of the clown world I’ve been trapped in for the past year. It’s like I’m on a humiliating merry-go-round, I can never get off—
“You’re blaming the wrong person,” a deep voice says.
I whirl around, and my jaw comes unhinged.
In my distraught state, I must be seeing things.
I blink.
I blink again.
An imposing man I should never have been pining after since meeting him in the Hamptons stands in front of me.
I catch the gasps and murmurs floating in the restaurant.
“…is that… Kazimir Lindstrom?”
“…no way that’s the captain for the New York Blazers…”
“…holy shit, Kazimir Lindstrom is in the house?”
“…I can’t believe I’m under the same roof as him…”
Yup, that’s him in the flesh.
Hockey legend, three-time Stanley Cup winner, Olympic gold and silver medalist, Triple Gold Club member, Kazimir Lindstrom.
I gawk at the Adonis god, flustered.
Just like the first time I laid eyes on him, he takes my breath away.
His narrowed eyes burn with fury, indignation, and outrage.
I’m so shocked by the presence of this gorgeous beast of a man, I’m tongue-tied.
I place a hand against my chest, willing my hammering heart to stop thudding. All that brooding masculinity is a lot to take in—
Wait. What is he doing here?
The last time I saw my ex-boyfriend’s stepdad, I was at a pinnacle in my life. In the Hamptons, he looked at me with such admiration when I told him I was jumping into an exciting new career. Too bad all those well laid out plans blew up in my face.
Now, I’m an abject failure. Talk about falling from grace.
I don’t want him to see me at my lowest.
I wouldn’t be able to survive pity shining from the most remarkable pair of blue eyes I’ve ever seen.
Kaz’s attention shifts to the woman. “As for your suit, we’ll exchange contact information, and I’ll replace it.”
I do a double take. Huh?
The woman frowns. “Why are you coming to her defense?”
Yeah, Kaz, why are you coming to my defense? I haven’t seen you in a year. Why on earth would you stick your neck out for me?
A flash of impatience sparks in his eyes. “Like I said, this ordeal isn’t her fault.” That low gravelly voice has been haunting my dreams.
Did he see what happened?
Hoity-toity suit lady flattens her lips. “Whose fault was it, then?”
Kaz points at the degenerate. “His.”
Oh, my savior.
“How dare you accuse me?”
There’s a holier than thou tone to the man’s voice.
What a fucking actor. A bad one at that.
“I’m not the one who bumped into that other waitress.” He shrugs. “That’s what happens when you’re not paying attention, unless this has to do with the fact our waitress is uncoordinated… or plain incompetent.”
Screw you, jackass.
Kaz glowers at the man, his jaw tight, and his mouth set into a harsh line.
The slimeball stares up at Kaz, defiance flashing from his beady eyes. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m simply telling the truth.”
“Funny how your truth is bent out of shape.”
“Are you accusing me of something I didn’t do?”
“You put your filthy hands on her without her consent.”
“That’s not what happened. You’re talking bullshit.”
“Why don’t we step outside so you can tell me exactly how things went down?” Kaz speaks in a low voice that drips with frost.
“Why? Because a big Neanderthal like yourself can only speak with his fists?”
Kaz takes a menacing step toward the man. The energy he gives off could incinerate all of New York.
The coward scoots back, banging into the table causing the drinks in the glasses to sway, right before his hand lands in his plate of food.
“Shit.” He snatches a napkin and wipes his hand, his furious gaze on me.
I smirk.
“Move,” a man says. “I pass.”
The crowd of patrons that’s assembled around us parts, and my toxic boss comes charging our way.
As if the situation couldn’t get worse.
He comes to a halt in front of us and places his hands at his waist.
He taps his foot as he assesses the scene.
“Merde! Quel gachis. Why there is tomato sauce everywhere?”
Translation: Fuck. What a mess.
This man thrives on putting me down. He must be buzzing with glee because this is the fuck up to end all fuck ups.
étienne’s furious eyes narrow. “Harley, you do this.”
The man was in his office. How dare he accuse me without knowing the facts?
I should lower my gaze to the floor and bite my tongue, because I can’t afford to lose this job, but if I don’t stand up for myself, he’ll always walk all over me. “It’s not my fault.”
“If you’re going to put the blame on anyone for this disaster, you need to put the blame on the right person.” Kaz crosses his arms over his wide chest.
The man looks like a conquering king.
This guy is oozing so much big dick energy, it’s dizzying.
étienne swings his gaze in Kaz’s direction. “And who is dat?”
“The predator over there.” Kaz jerks his chin in the slimeball’s direction.