Page 12 of The Waiter at Table 6

I sniff. “I’ll just keep my opinions to myself, then.”

She doesn’t try to tamp down on her smile.

“So do you want to be a secretary again?” I ask instead.

Her response is instant. “No. I want to do something I love.”

“And what do you love?”

“I have no idea.” She sounds dejected, but when she shifts her focus to me, she almost looks hopeful. “How did you figure out what you want to do?”

I kind of hate the answer I have to give her because it’s clearly not the one she’s looking for.

“I think I always knew I wanted to work in a restaurant,” I admit. “Even when I was young, I loved making food that people enjoyed. It’s kind of my love language.”

And yeah, she seems a little disappointed by that information. Because that’s not something she can replicate to find what she loves.

“I was really lucky that I had a supportive family,” I go on. “And not just because the restaurant was passed down to me. My family is really big on pushing each other to do what makes them happy. My whole dream just kind of dropped into my lap.”

“Something tells me you would’ve figured it out on your own, too. You seem like the kind of man that goes for what he wants.”

I can’t look away from her, too mesmerized by her thoughtfulness and the way the moonlight illuminates her face. “I try to be,” I say hoarsely.

There’s a pause in her steps, and she glances up at me from beneath lowered lashes. The heaviness of the moment evaporates, stilled by a different kind of weight that has my pulse pounding.

My focus drops to her lips—just for a second, just because she’s so damn tempting. When I meet her eyes again, I see something flickering there that I hope I’m reading right.

I only hesitate for a moment before I take a slow step closer, never once looking away from her.

“You know what I really want right now?” I ask, voice lowering.

Her answer comes out in a breathless whisper. “What’s that?”

I let my gaze travel over the shadows on her face. “I want the clouds to fuck off so I can see your pretty smile again.”

There’s a pause, and then…

A laugh bursts out of her.

I quirk an eyebrow at her, forcing dryness into my tone as I try to smother my smile. “I’m sorry, are you laughing at me when I’m flirting with you?”

She covers her mouth, trying to stifle her laughter. “I can’t help it, that was so bad!”

I’m too enamored by her to respond.

“You can’t tell me that works on other women,” she asks with a chuckle.

I’m already close enough to touch her, so it takes nothing at all to wrap an arm around her waist and pull her against me, close enough that I can place my lips against her ear and whisper, “Got you to smile, didn’t it?”

When I pull back to look down at her face, the laughter is nowhere to be found. Instead, I can see the banked fire once again flickering in her eyes.

“What did you really want to say?” she whispers.

With the hand not holding her to me, I cup her face, taking in every inch of her as I breathe the truth against her lips.

“That you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

Her breath hitches, and I’m officially powerless to resist her.

---