Chapter 1 #2
She pivoted, headed for the pass-through, and those cheap black uniform pants couldn’t hide a damn thing. The sway of her hips hit me like film-study slo-mo. I shifted on the vinyl seat to make sure the growing pressure behind my zipper stayed hidden. For fuck’s sake, Daughtry, get it together.
While I waited, I pulled out my phone, pretending to review notes from practice while I really tracked Rylin’s every step.
She re-emerged from the back and moved behind the counter, flipped a ticket spike, snagged a ceramic cup, and poured iced tea into it, darker than crude oil.
The strong stuff we brewed for ourselves.
Then she filled a glass pitcher, grabbed a fresh meal off the pass-through, and balanced everything on a tray.
As she headed back, I clocked every detail. Her hair still escaping, sweat shining at her temples, and her uniform shirt tightening across her chest each time she inhaled. She set the pitcher down and handed over the silverware without letting our fingers brush. Professional lines drawn.
Then she was gone again, off to another table before I could come up with something else to say, just to keep her there with me for a few more moments.
I finished my iced tea, filled my glass again, and took a long swallow, letting the caffeine punch wakefulness through my bloodstream.
While I waited for my food, I watched Rylin work.
The smile she gave a kid. The quiet apology when a customer had to wait an extra moment.
The way she tucked stray hair behind her ear out of habit.
She dropped plates off, refilled drinks, and ducked into the back to grab a bus tub, balancing it on one hip. Polite and efficient. But like I’d noticed before, too fucking thin.
The protective streak my mama drilled into me ignited. I heard her voice in my head. “Take care of your own, Micah Lee Daughtry. You have those broad shoulders for a reason.”
She’d spent my childhood reminding me to shield my kid brother and never let my big sister boss me out of kindness. That reflex fired now, straight at Rylin. She was working herself ragged, and I needed to take care of her for a reason I couldn’t name.
My sandwich arrived six minutes later, steam curling off the bread. Rylin set the basket in front of me and slid napkins across the table.
“You gonna bench-press that or eat it?” She arched a brow, and her lips curled into a slight smile.
I barked a laugh. “Eat first. Press later. You get a break soon?”
“Breaks come after tips,” she deadpanned. That guarded edge returned, as though she couldn’t afford friendliness for free.
I picked up half the sandwich and took a bite big enough to quiet my stomach. It tasted perfect. She hovered, probably waiting for approval.
“Best it’s ever been,” I said once I swallowed. “Tell Lionel he nailed the ratios.”
She nodded.
“And tell him you need to eat too,” I added, trying not to sound as irritated as I felt at her lack of nutrition. “Don’t take this the wrong way, because you’re gorgeous. But you look like you’re running on fumes.”
A flush crept up her throat. “I’m fine.”
“I bet.” I rested my elbows on the table, the sandwich in my hands momentarily forgotten. “But we have the staff meal code on the register for a reason. Use it.”
Her chin lifted, her polite smile frozen. “I don’t like charity.”
I sighed. “It’s not charity. It’s policy.”
Those hazel eyes narrowed, but it was so slight I would have missed it if I hadn’t been watching her so closely. “The owner’s prerogative?”
“It’s for everyone, Rylin. Not special treatment.” I let a beat hang there, wondering what past bullshit made her flinch at kindness.
“Hmm,” she hummed as a reply.
“Sit with me for a few minutes. I’ll make sure nobody yells.”
“No special treatment?” she drawled, her hazel eyes wary once again.
“I’m a walking contradiction,” I offered with a grin. “Linebacker turned sandwich tycoon. A Rubik’s cube in cleats.”
Her lips flattened like she was suppressing a smile, but then she took a step back and shook her head. “I still have tables I’m taking care of. Maybe another time.”
I let it go because her shoulders were stiff, and I’d learned long ago you can’t tackle trust. You have to coax it. “Fair enough.”
When she walked away, I ate slowly, again watching every interaction because I couldn’t fucking look anywhere else.
She remembered the patrons’ names after the first introduction, squared off with a Wall Street prick who complained the pastrami wasn’t keto, and grabbed extra crayons from the hostess to entertain a fussy toddler.
She was sunshine with a backbone. And fuck, I wanted her.
Halfway through my meal, my manager came over to say hello. I asked her about Rylin.
Tammi cocked her head, her expression curious, but she must have realized I wouldn’t be explaining and moved on.
“I can’t really tell you much beyond what she put on her application.
Her work experience started in an Upstate town I’ve never heard of, then she moved to the city a couple of years ago.
Her references all checked out. She only left her last job because the restaurant closed.
It was a small, family-owned business, and the owners retired. ”
“Nothing else?” I pushed.
“I can tell you that the customers frequently stop me to compliment her, and Lionel can’t stop raving about her organizational skills.”
She stopped again and waited for me to respond, clearly hoping I’d explain my interest. I didn’t. Instead, I changed the subject to the few business items I’d planned to go over with her before I left. When we were finished, she went back to work.
Rylin returned when I had nothing left to pretend I was still eating.
“Need anything else?” she asked, all business, which was as cute as it was frustrating.
I smiled conspiratorially. “Nothing that’s on the menu.” She blushed, and I felt like I’d just won something, though I wasn’t quite sure what yet. “Maybe tomorrow.”
Tossing a couple of hundreds on the table for her tip, I slid out of the booth and stood at my full height.
She had to be at least five-eight, but with the way I towered over her, she seemed dainty.
The lack of meat on her bones made her look delicate, like I could break her with a simple hug.
However, after observing her for the last hour, I knew she was made of tougher stuff.
She held my gaze for a few seconds, then turned and busied herself with clearing the table. When her eyes flicked to the bills, she froze, then she looked up at me with a frown.
“That’s too much. I don’t—”
I winked and cut off whatever she was going to say. “Keep it, sweetheart.”
My tone was firm, but I kept it gentle because big men plus volume equals fear, and something told me she’d had enough of that in her life already.
“I can’t.” She grabbed the money and tried to hand it back. “It isn’t—”
Shaking my head, I murmured, “You earned every dollar, babe. You’re fast, you’re kind, and apparently, my guy in the kitchen can’t stop raving about how you organize ticket strings. Think of it as me investing in my own business. Take it.”
Her lips parted like she wanted to argue, but then the fight drained out of her, although the stubborn tilt to her chin remained. “Thank you.”
That stubbornness? Yeah. I was hooked.
But she also had a softness that hit me harder than any tackle. I gave her a slow nod and left her standing there, clutching those bills like they might burn a hole through her palm.
From behind me, I heard the hostess tease, “Girl, if you don’t keep that, I will,” and Rylin’s quiet laugh sent a throb through my chest.
Outside, the late-afternoon heat slapped me in the face. Traffic honked, scaffolding creaked, and somebody cursed a delivery driver for blocking the bike lane. White-noise I’d learned to love from living in New York.
I stood a second, replaying every moment with her. The hunger in my gut was gone, replaced by a different ache entirely.
As I walked north on 11th Ave, my mind was already rewriting tomorrow’s schedule. Lift, practice, meetings…then back here at shift change to see if Rylin Curtis got any sleep. Maybe force her to take a break and eat.
One thing was for certain, I knew where I’d be tomorrow…
and the day after. Unless I was at an away game, I’d be there every damn day until she trusted me.
I’d spent years waiting for a woman who felt like forever.
And for the first time in a long damn time, I wanted another conversation. A real one. With her.
I wanted Rylin Curtis.
And I’d keep showing up until she realized I wasn’t going anywhere.