Page 5 of Burn With Me

“How can I help you today?” A pretty brunette beams up at me from the hostess stand—a blush already staining her full cheeks as she does her best to maintain eye contact.

“That depends. What time do you get off work, gorgeous?” The way her whole face flushes, I’ll bet she just creamed herself.

Before she can answer, a stunning dark-haired woman wearing a cream-colored pantsuit appears behind her with an unapproving glare like an overprotective mother. “That won’t be necessary, Jackson. Your uncle is in the back. You can follow me.”

“And you are?”

“My name is Carmela.” Her tone makes me think she doesn’t like me, and I wonder what she has to do with the meeting and how she knows anything about me to begin with.

Carmela saunters through the tables, pausing to say hello to a few patrons, while I check out the waitresses and try to decide which one I’ll let finish the job the no-name woman from earlier walked out on.

As far as restaurants go, this is a nice one. Exposed brick, distressed wood, bronze furnishings–for the area, it’s not exactly upscale, but it’s better than Serafina’s. A flash of rust catches my eye, and I turn my gaze.

It’s been a long time since a woman took my breath away. But this one, there’s something about this one that’s special. Dark copper hair that curls down below her breasts, bright blue eyes that are piercing–even in the dim lighting. Full, bubble-gum pink lips.

She throws her head back and laughs at something a customer says before nodding and moving away from the table she’s at. Distantly, I hear my name behind me, but I’ve already turned and started walking toward the ginger goddess.

If I have to guess, I’d say she’s about five-six. Her back is to me as she types something into the computer system, but she doesn’t startle when I give her my smoothest, “Hi, there.”

Looking over her shoulder, she doesn’t appear phased at all as she gives me a once-over and turns back around. “Can I help you with something?”

Her tone is ice cold, and my eyebrows knit together in disbelief. Women don’t ever respond to me like this. Affronted, I scoff, “What’s your name?”

Sighing, she spins around and locks eyes with me like I’m a rodent she just caught sneaking into the kitchen. “Scarlett. And you are?”

Scarlett. Appropriate.

Now that I’m closer, I can see she has freckles over hercheeks and nose. They make her seem endearing. Innocent. The one thing that Idon’twant in a woman.

But her fiery attitude tells me that even if she’s innocent, she’s got some bite to her.

Sticking my hand out for her to shake, I flash my bestfuck mesmile and respond, “Jackson Tailor.”

Her contemptuous look drops, lips opening in surprise, as her eyes widen a fraction. A rosy hue breaks out on the apples of her cheeks, and she’s about to say something when I hear my uncle speak behind me.

“Jackson, leave Ginny alone and let her do her job.”

My eyebrow raises as I smirk at her before mouthing ‘Ginny.’She glares at me before her eyes snap to my uncle as he walks up and places himself between us.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I’m still getting used to the name tag thing,” he tells her quietly.

The way her eyes soften and warm when she looks at him doesn’t sit right with me. She’s gotta be in her mid-twenties, at least. My uncle may be a good-looking man for his age, but he’sancientcompared to her.

“It’s okay, Mr. Tailor. Don’t worry about it. Can I get you anything?” Her tone is hopeful and doting, and it makes my stomach roil.

“Are you trying to get one up on Aunt Sadie? Fooling around with a younger woman because she went and married her little boyfriend already?” It’s a low blow, but I’m irrationally angry that the old man obviously got to the little gingersnap before I could.

Only a year has passed since he signed the divorce papers my aunt gave him. He had the perfect woman. If there is such a thing, my Aunt Sadie is it. And instead of treasuring her like a dragon with its gold, he fucked around on her publicly and drove her into the arms of a man that’s twenty years younger than her.

“That’s enough, Jackson,” he warns.

Ginny’s face is crimson as she furiously shakes her head. “It isn’t like that!”

Uncle Scott jerks his chin in the direction behind me and says, “Let’s go.”

Pushing around me, he heads to the other side of the restaurant, where there’s a long hall, but I don’t follow him. Instead, I step closer to Ginny, lowering my head and asking, “What’s it like, then? Because that look you were giving him was definitely a little too eager, if you ask me.”

“You’re disgusting. He’s my boss, and older than my father. Not my style,” she grits out as she glares up at me. She’s gripping the pen she’s holding so tightly that it might snap at any moment.

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