Page 114 of The Pucking Wrong Man

Freaking out about the fact that I’d heard him listening by the door as I groaned his name.

CHAPTER 23

ANASTASIA

“What?” I stared at Charlie, feeling sick.

“I’m sorry, Anastasia, but we need someone who can work longer shifts. Your nighttime shifts aren’t enough anymore. The hours are too short.”

I opened my mouth to argue...or beg. But what could I say? With my dance schedule, I couldn’t go in earlier. Other employees came in at least two to three hours before me, I knew that...but it had never been a problem before this.

I was panicking, the edges of my vision darkening because this was bad, this was really bad. I had to pay Michael. Putting aside all my other expenses…I had to pay him. Cleaning the dance studio gave me a little, but it wasn’t enough.

There was also the fact that I needed to find my own place. Camden wasn’t going to let me stay there forever. He’d eventually get tired of me. I didn’t want to go back to a shelter…or the streets.

And why was this such a big deal? I showed up, I worked hard. Charlie had never made one complaint about my hours. This was what we had agreed upon. He’d known this was the only way it would work from the beginning.

“Charlie, please. I really need this job,” I whispered. “I’ll work even harder. I’ll stay later...please.”

Charlie pushed his hair off his forehead where beads of sweat were collecting. We were back in the kitchen, and it was hot in here. I searched his face for any sign I was breaking through to him, but his usually warm brown eyes had cooled, and his lips were curled up in annoyance.

“Look, Ana, you’re a good kid. But I gotta do what’s best for my business, and you ain’t it. You can leave your apron on that shelf over there. You’re gonna be fine.” He turned his back and picked up a basket of fries from a vat of hot oil, clearly signaling the conversation was over.

I stared at him for a few seconds longer, so long he was probably worried I was going crazy. I just couldn’t believe this was happening.

I also couldn’t understand how it had happened.

When he didn’t turn around, and it was obvious he was keeping busy so he didn’t have to—I admitted defeat.

Taking off my apron, I flung it onto the shelf and made my way out of the kitchen.

I stood at the end of the hallway, looking into the main dining hall. It was a mix of regulars and new faces. No one glanced at me.

I’d worked here for half a year, and no one would think about me after I left.

It had been like that everywhere I’d gone.

I wonder what it felt like to be memorable to someone, a ghost that lingered in their minds after you were gone because they’d actually cared about you.

What a pathetic thought.

“Take it easy, Anastasia,” Poison said, poking her head out of the scullery. Those four words may have been the longest sentence she’d ever said to me. I was guessing she’d overheard the conversation—my begging had been embarrassingly loud. I nodded to her and waved before striding across the dining hall, focused on getting out of here as fast as I could.

There was a tight, panicked feeling building up inside of me as I burst out the doors into the cold night air. Glancing around at the familiar buildings…I was at a loss for what to do with myself.

And then Camden’s giant truck pulled to the curb, his usual parking place despite the heavy traffic that went in and out of the restaurant. Just another way that luck smiled down on him.

He hopped out of the truck, and I flushed as soon as we locked eyes.

I knew what he looked like when he came now.

And I couldn’t imagine anything hotter.

“Hey, baby girl,” he said. His hair was wet and pushed off his face. He was wearing a pair of nice, black dress slacks, and a black, fitted button up dress shirt for some reason.

He looked like sex on a stick and I wanted to lick him.

Don’t think about sex, I hissed at myself. Or licking!

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