Page 25 of The Waiter at Table 6

Ryder: Just walked in. Are you driving or Ubering?

Vanessa: Uber. I’m pulling up now.

My heart immediately pounds harder in anticipation. Even a day away from her has me withdrawing like an addict, and we’re not even a real thing. I mean, yeah, I’d like to be, but I also understand why she’s not looking for anything. After a decade of marriage to a royal douche, I’d be a little skeptical to date anyone, too.

I force that thought through my brain once, twice, three times before she finally walks in. And all of it is for nothing, because the second I lay eyes on her, I want to worship at her feet all over again.

She’s wearing a dress, similar to the first night I met her. But other than that, she looks entirely different from that first night. Then, she had her hair perfectly curled and smoothed, and her makeup was subtle but flawless. It was like she had just walked off a magazine cover. And she’s just as beautiful tonight, but now she looks…happy.

Her hair is wavy like she recently unbraided it after a day on the beach. And she has no makeup on, but her sun-kissed cheeks are prettier than any blush I’ve ever seen. And most importantly, she’s got a huge smile on her face when she spots me.

“Hey,” she chirps, hurrying over to me. It takes everything in me not to scoop her into my arms.

“Hey,” I manage to croak out before clearing my throat. “Find the place okay?”

Amusement twinkles in her eyes. “Yes, Ryder, it was very hard typing the place you told me into the Uber app.”

I choke on my laughter. “Just making sure.”

That earns me the smile I’ve been waiting for since I last saw her, the sight of it knocking even more of the breath from my lungs. Jesus fuck, Ryder, get it together. She’s only looking for a friend.

I shake myself from the haze I fell into and gesture toward the clubs and balls. “I already paid, since I got here early, so we can just grab what we need to. I didn’t want to guess on your height.”

She cocks her head in the cutest way. “How tall are you?”

I wink at her. “6’2”, babe.”

God, I love that blush. I wish I could taste it again.

Instead, I sweep my arm wide. “Shall we?”

Smiling, she walks ahead of me, and I’m happy to see there’s less hesitation in her step now than when we went jet skiing. I don’t know if it was the activity or being with me again, but I did everything I could last time to put her at ease. Same as I’ll do tonight.

I watch patiently as she measures the perfect club, then as she grabs a green golf ball. Her eyebrow quirks when I select the bright pink one.

“I feel like I shouldn’t be surprised, but…I am.”

I shrug, a shameless grin on my face as I place a hand on her lower back and usher her toward the first hole. “You should see how many pink shirts I have in my closet. My sisters think it’s hilarious to buy them for every gift-giving occasion. But the joke’s on them: I look fabulous in pink.”

Her laugh comes out as a snort, which delights me to no end. I enjoy peeling the prim and proper layers back from Vanessa’s shell.

Her amusement settles into a smile as we take up our place by the first hole, waiting for the group before us to finish up. Then I hear her ask, “How many sisters do you have? Or how many siblings, I should say.”

“Two sisters, one older, one younger. Both are manipulative little jerks who live to fuck with me. One brother—he’s the oldest. He was always the most serious, and the one who ended up trying to wrangle the rest of us after my parents decided to embrace the chaos.” I let out a snort of my own when a memory hits me. “This one time, my younger sister caught me kissing a girl in our tree house, so she ran to tell my older sister. Since it was dark already, the two jerks decided it would be hilarious to flash the lights in the treehouse and make ghost sounds to freak my girlfriend out. Which she did. She immediately bolted from the treehouse.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Vanessa comments, but she’s biting down on her smile like she knows something’s coming.

“Oh, didn’t I mention? My lovely siblings also decided to remove the ladder.”

Vanessa barks a laugh before dissolving into giggles. “Oh my God,” she says, leaning onto her club, “that’s awful. Was she okay?”

I can’t hold back my smile. “Kind of. It was only about six feet to the ground, but she tweaked her ankle a bit. Her yell is what alerted my brother to the chaos. After which, he promptly shooed my sisters back to their homework, put ice on my girlfriend’s ankle, and after helping me walk her home, scolded all three of us to hell.”

Vanessa is still laughing as she asks, “What were you doing while he was helping her? Did you fall too?”

“No way. That wasn’t the first time they had taken the ladder from the treehouse. I was too busy trying to hide my boner and escape more ridicule.”

Another fit of giggles, this time making her collapse onto the bench beside us. Smiling, I take a seat next to her.

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