12. Him
HIM
PLAY WITH FIRE
God, she’s perfect.
The others were, too.
She weaves gracefully between the tables, holding the serving tray steadily above her shoulder. Glasses full of beer clink together, but she spills nary a drop. It’s beautiful to watch.
She’s beautiful to watch.
I claimed the furthest booth from the front door, tucked away in shadows and just out of the restaurant camera’s line of sight.
Her full lips stretch with a smile as she carefully adjusts the tray, wrapping those dainty fingers around my glass. “Here you are. Your usual, the house lager.” When she sets my beer on the table, directly in front of me, her smile seems to widen, and those perfect brown eyes sparkle.
At me.
“Thank you, ma’am.” Smiling in return, I lift the glass and take a sip, making sure to swipe the foam from my upper lip with my tongue. She’s watching every move I make.
A blush creeps up her neck, settling in her cheeks. “Well, let me know if you need anything else.” She glances at me one more time before she turns on a heel, leaving to deliver drinks to other tables.
I do need something from her.
But I’m a patient man.