9. Chapter 9 #2
“We saw you sneak back to that office with him the other night. I should probably tell you it’s frowned upon to flirt your way into a job. It shouldn’t surprise me though, after the kind of company you keep.” Her voice like venom, and her long lashes flicking me up and down.
“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking abo—”
“Bianca!” Ricky rounded the corner and ripped the empty tray from her hand. “Stop harassing Lucy and get back to the floor. Your guests from table fourteen just came up to the bar asking for their check.”
She rolled her eyes and spun away from the dish-pit, flipping her long ponytail.
Ricky gleamed at me like the sparkly savior he was.
He made a tsking sound. “I love the witch, but she really doesn’t know how to mind her own business.
” He winked and then sashayed away in what I’m pretty sure was a victory dance.
At least I knew I had one ally in this place.
“Lucy,” Dax’s deep baritone called from the other side of the kitchen. “Can you bring a stack of plates over here?”
Shit.
I hauled a stack of plates into my arms and walked them over to the counter where he stood. “Sorry,” I said, though I wasn’t sure what for.
“Don’t be sorry, you’re doing a great job.”
My cheeks heated. “Oh, okay,” I stuttered. “Do you need anything else?” I slid the stack onto the counter and took a step back.
“No. I just saw Bianca over there and I wanted to make sure everything’s okay. How are you holding up?”
So, he had been watching me. Just like I’d been trying not to stare at him. I tried to plaster a neutral expression on my face. “Yep. All good. Living the dream.”
Really, Lucy? Smooth.
Dax let out a harsh chuckle. “Yeah, someone’s dream.
” I watched him take one of the plates from the stack and expertly arrange the scallops with some kind of sauce, lemons, and a frisée garnish.
He did it with meticulous ease and speed.
Like his hand was trained for something beyond the kitchen, that kind of precision was meant for something that could strike back.
I attempted a polite smile and took that as my cue to get back to work.
As I turned around, the heel of my oversized Croc started to slip out from underneath me.
I noticed the rogue piece of ice on the floor too late, and I fell in what felt like slow motion.
My heart pounded in my ears. A little screech slipped from my lips.
I heard the sound of the plate Dax had been arranging slam onto the steel of the counter, and then his hands were at my waist. My head was only inches from the hard floor, his face an even smaller distance from mine as he held me suspended midair. His lips pressed together and…
I should not have been looking at his lips! He noticed. And then I watched in horror and anticipation as his eyes trailed down to mine. Was he going to kiss me? Did I want him to?
Yes, some primal part of me said. My hand was trembling, and I must have grabbed onto his shoulder at some point. His lips parted, a breath away from mine. My pulse felt like it was going to explode. Then he jerked us both up into a standing position.
He lurched back from me like I had been on fire, his eyes swimming with something dark and catatonic. “Careful,” he whispered.
I took a shaky step back, avoiding the remainder of the ice on the floor.
How stupid could I possibly be?
Of course he wasn’t going to kiss me. I was just some clumsy girl who guilted him into a job and dragged him into my mess.
Mortified, I went back to the dish-pit and busied myself with the never-ending stream of dishes that came and went from the station.
I avoided looking in his direction for the entire rest of my shift, trying to calm my racing heart.
By the time I was finished mopping the floor, most of the staff had already left.
Dax was gone, thank god. I was exhausted but a sense of pride flickered through my embarrassment.
I’d survived my first actual shift at Bellissima, and beside the mishap with the ice, I thought I’d done a pretty decent job.
The layout of the restaurant was starting to feel familiar as I wove my way through the kitchen and toward the hallway leading into the dining room.
There were no customers left, and Bianca was in the middle of the room with another server, stacking chairs on top of tables.
Ricky was sitting at one of the low tables next to the bar, counting a stack of dollar bills and sorting them into piles. His head turned when he noticed my movement and waved me over. On the table beside him, a deck of cards was perched between two unfinished bottles of wine.
“Lucy! I’m so glad you made it out of there in one piece tonight. And you managed not to get soaking wet this time. I’m so proud.”
I let out an exasperated sigh. “Last time didn’t count.”
He gave me an exaggerated wink, the little specks of glitter on his lashes catching glimmers of the chandeliers’ soft light. “I knew you’d do great. Though please tell me that isn’t the only pair of shoes you own after the tragic death of your stilettos.”
I spared a glance down at the Crocs, feeling suddenly betrayed by them for the accident they nearly caused in the kitchen. I wasn’t sure what to say to Ricky because technically I didn’t even own them.
Luckily, he seemed to have already moved on.
He finished sorting the cash, zipping a portion of it into a bank bag and walking the rest of it over to the register behind the bar.
“You have to tell me how you ended up back here! Bianca and I thought we’d never see your face again after you stormed out the other night. ”
I turned and noticed Bianca stiffen at the mention of her name.
I didn’t know what her problem was with me, but the way she confronted me tonight in the kitchen left a sour taste in my mouth.
She had no clue of the real reason I was here, and it was none of her business who Dax decided to hire.
If he thought I was fit for the job, that’s all that mattered.
“She doesn’t look too happy to see me here,” I muttered as he came back around the bar and took the seat across from me.
“Ugh, just ignore her for now. She can be a nasty bitch, but she’ll warm up eventually.”
I gave him a skeptical frown.
“Trust me.” Ricky grabbed one of the half bottles from the table next to us and started pouring it into a glass.
“She has a chip on her shoulder, but she’s as loyal as they come.
Just give her some time.” He pushed the glass across the table toward me and started to fill another.
“So, tell me all about you. I want to know where the mysterious Lucy comes from.”
I hesitantly took the glass and brought it to my lips. The wine was dark and smooth, the gentle sting of alcohol slid down my throat as I considered what I should tell him.