Page 2 of Rhett Redeemed

But this one definitely catches my eye.

“I’ll have a black coffee. And the ribs, please,” Blond Guy says, placing the menu down and leaning back in the booth. I don’t miss the slow perusal he gives me, checking me out from head to toe, but I pretend that I do. Being a waitress, I get hit on all of the time, and I certainly have found that ignoring it is the best way to handle it. If you flirt, you can get more tips, but I tried that and it’s just not for me. I just try to be polite and work hard, and hope that’s enough. We already have to wear tight tops to work, as requested by Max, and even though we just work in the restaurant, we get treated the same as the women who strip at Toxic next door.

Some men just seem to think we are free game.

“Dice?” Blond Guy prompts his friend, a red-haired man.

“Ummm. I’ll have the nachos and a beer.”

“No problem,” I reply, picking up the menus and heading back to the kitchen. I slide the order slip to the chefs at the back and get the coffee and beer.

“Damn, want to swap tables?” Jamie asks me, checking out the bikers. Jamie has been working here longer than me, and was the one to show me the ropes when I first started. She’s a fun, bubbly blonde and is always the one who gets the most tips. She’s stunning, with an infectious personality, so I can see why.

“If you want,” I reply with a shrug. We get good-looking men coming in here all the time; it’s all the same to me. Although something about the blond intrigues me, which means I should probably stay away.

She playfully nudges me. “You all right? How did it go seeing your sister the other day?”

I perk up at the mention of Cara, my half sister who I recently met for the first time. “It was good. We went out for dinner and a movie. It’s been great getting to know her.”

In reality, it’s been an emotional roller coaster.

While going through my father’s stuff after his death, I found out about Cara. Dad pretty much had no involvement in Cara’s life, which is probably why I never heard of her, but I was angry at him for not telling me I had an older sister. I’ve always felt so alone, and to know I have a sister out there excited me. After I hired a PI to find her, she and I met and the rest is history.

Cara is everything I’m not. She’s educated, classy and extremely put together. She’s assertive, and strong, yet also sweet and kind.

And she’s happy.

Me? I’m all over the place. I don’t have a career, I’m a little rough around the edges and I didn’t have two loving parents like she did. I pretty much raised myself, while Cara grew up in a loving, supportive home.

We aren’t the same.

But despite what anyone thinks, I have nothing but genuine love for Cara. I’m not envious of her; I want her to have all of that and more. Having her in my life has given me a connection that my existence has been lacking. She’s a special person, and I can see why she has so many people that adore her.

“That’s nice. You’ll have to bring her in one day so we can all meet her,” Jamie replies, smiling at me.

“I will,” I promise. “You want to take these out to them?”

She nods, taking the tray. I watch her strut over and bend over the table in her short-shorts, laughing at something one of them has said. I notice the blond one looking over at me, our eyes meeting over the back of Jamie’s shapely ass.

Looking away, I start drying the glasses and keeping myself busy. I need to figure out what I want to do with my life. I don’t want to work here forever. Not that there’s anything wrong with being a waitress—a job is a job—but I know this isn’t where I want to be forever. I want to be able to work toward something, at least. I need something positive in my life.

“What are you thinking about?” Jamie asks as she’s coming back from the table, breaking me out from my trance.

“Just contemplating my life,” I admit.

“Here,” she says, handing me the plates of food for the biker men. “You take these out to the hot bikers and then have your break. The hot one was asking about you, and you look like you need a sneaky shot of tequila.”

He was asking about me? Why?

She heads off to serve the new customers who walk in, and I bring the food over to the bikers. “Your ribs,” I say, as I place the plate down in front of the blond. “And the nachos,” to his friend. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

“No, thank you,” the blond replies, studying me. “Except maybe your number.”

My eyebrows raise. “Not on the menu, unfortunately. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

I flash him a smile, and then head back to the kitchen, hearing his deep laugh behind me. I have enough problems in my life right now; I don’t need any more. And he has trouble written all over him. Delicious, orgasm-attached trouble, but trouble nonetheless.

I take Jamie’s advice, down a shot of tequila, and then eat some garlic bread for my dinner. Because why the fuck not.

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