Page 13 of Crave

“I’m sorry, Esme, that’s so shitty. I’ll get them all to leave right now. I’ll make a scene.”

She smiles at me sadly. “I wish you could, but it’s not worth it for all the trouble I’d get into. Anyway…Madison was really getting to me, so I kind of lied and said I had a new boyfriend, and she obviously didn’t believe me, but then there you were and so…I just pretended you were him.” She tails off, looking embarrassed.

“Glad I could be of service.” I wink at her and she flashes me a quick smile before hurrying over to Madison’s table and setting down the drinks. She’s fast as lightning, not giving them time to say a word to her before she’s back behind the counter.

“How come you’re here, anyway?” she asks, focusing those pretty brown eyes on me. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I came to see you, of course.”

She smiles. “Well, I’m glad you did, but I can’t get caught slacking off. My boss is not a forgiving kind of guy.”

I quickly scan the drinks menu on the chalkboard behind her. “Then I’ll get a beer. He can’t call it slacking off if you’re serving a customer.”

“Touché.” She grabs me a can and I hand over the money, which she inspects with a frown. “Did you mean to tip this much?”

“Sure did,” I say, opening the beer and taking a sip. “For being the prettiest waitress I’ve ever seen.”

It’s the truth too: she looks delectable with that apron stretched around her hips and her hair pulled back in a shiny ponytail.

“Thank you.” She smiles at my compliment. “You’re looking pretty handsome yourself.”

There’s confidence in her gaze, an easiness between us that wasn’t there before. I feel like she’s starting to really relax around me, her nerves from last night replaced by warmth and familiarity. It gives me hope.

“So, does this mean we’re going to your high school reunion together?” I ask, taking a swig of my beer.

Esme gives a snort of laughter. “Heck no. It will just be Madison showing off all evening, not to mention my ex will be there.” She nods her head toward Madison’s table. “I’d rather do literally anything else.”

I frown at the mention of her ex, my eyes flickering toward the table of people and lingering on a young guy. “Is that your ex over there?”

Esme follows my gaze, grimacing. “Yeah, that’s Josh, the guy sitting next to the redhead. She’s his new girlfriend. Hannah. I guess they’re all planning the reunion together.”

I watch Josh as he says something to his girlfriend, his face splitting into a shit-eating grin that makes me want to punch him even though I don’t know what they’re talking about. How dare he come to Esme’s workplace, laughing and talking and flaunting his new girlfriend after he dared to hurt my girl? After he made her feel unloved and insecure? The injustice of it makes my gut swirl with fury, and I’m seriously considering going over to the table and wiping the smile off his face with my fist.

“We should go,” I say suddenly.

“Huh?”

“We should go to the reunion.” Esme raises her eyebrows in surprise, but I press on. “You shouldn’t have to hide from these assholes, honey. We should go together and have a damn good time. Don’t worry about Madison or Josh—I’ll be there to protect you from all that shit.”

Esme ponders my words, looking at me thoughtfully. “You really think we should go?”

“Yes, I do. I don’t want those assholes ruining anything for you. You’re stronger than that.”

She furrows her brow in thought, looking back toward Madison’s table, then at me. She nods. “You’re right. Screw them. Let’s go and have a blast.”

I grin at her, watching with pride and following behind her as she heads out from behind the counter and strides toward the table. Six faces look up at us as we approach.

“We’ll take two tickets to the reunion,” Esme says, looking at Madison whose face flickers with surprise.

“Uh, fine. That’s ten dollars.”

Before Esme has a chance to start rooting through her pockets, I whip out my wallet and put ten dollars on the table. Madison hands over two pink tickets.

“Great. See you there,” Esme says, her voice cheery but her eyes hard, daring one of them to challenge her. Nobody does, and the group at the table is silent as we walk back toward the counter holding our tickets.

“Thank you for paying, Grant,” she says as we reach the counter. “And for convincing me to go. You’re right, I shouldn’t be held back from doing stuff just because of a few jerks.”

“Anytime, sugar.”