Page 2 of Designed for Disaster

“I swear it’s like people can’t read today,” I said.

Eddie smirked. “I say we just let them learn from their own stupidity.”

“But that would mean we’d have to remake their drinks when they inevitably end up on the floor. And break out the mop.”

Eddie sighed. “And Craig would get involved and probably make us apologize on our hands and knees.”

I hummed in agreement. Craig took “the customer is always right” to cartoonish extremes. He had his staff’s back exactly zero percent.

“Someone needs to bus the tables,” Craig said, popping up like a gremlin, as if we’d summoned him by saying his name. “We’re running out of seating.”

I caught Eddie’s eye. “I’m on it,” I called over my shoulder, grabbing a cloth. “You good here?”

Eddie nodded, darting off to take another order.

I headed around to the front, wiping crumbs and coffee stains off tables and gathering up dirty dishes. A set of cups rattled in my hand as I moved across The Blend, avoiding elbows and trying not to trip over my own tired feet.

“I don’t see why you can’t just talk to her,” a gruff, no-nonsense voice snapped close by.

I looked up from the table I was wiping down and spotted a striking figure of a man walking toward me from the counter, a steaming cup of coffee in his hand. He was tall, broad shoulders easily cutting a path between the customers. He had a phone pressed to his ear, and judging by the way his lip curled, he disliked whatever the person on the other end was saying.

“Will youstopasking about the business? That’s not why I reached out.” He huffed, wedging the phone between his ear and shoulder long enough to pinch the bridge of his nose, showing off the flashy Rolex on his wrist. “Look. Just talk to…I’m not discussing that right now. Why are you even bringing it up?”

I averted my gaze as he drew closer, trying not to make it obvious I was eavesdropping.

“Enough, Dad!” he snapped. “This isn’t about the company. Would you just talk to her already?”

I stiffened, unsettled by the way he was apparently speaking to his father.

“You’re such a goddamn asshole, you know that?”

Scratch that. The way he wasyellingat his father. A familiar, wretched hurt bubbled in my chest, and I rubbed at the spot between my ribs. What I wouldn’t give to have my father around again, and here this jerk was taking his parent for granted.Part of me wanted to smack his smug face and demand that he apologize.

The man went stalking past me, right toward the off-limits table.

Not again, I thought, surging forward.

“Sir? The sign! Please don’t use that table,” I said, waving to get his attention when he didn’t respond to what I’d said. I started jogging to intercept him, catching his arm. My hand wrapped around a firm bicep. “Sir!”

He wheeled around, staring me down with the most intense eyes I’d ever seen. “Excuse me,” he said sharply. “Can you not see I’m in the middle of a phone call? Do you not know basic manners?”

Wow, really?If this was a cartoon, steam would have come out of his ears. But if we were in a cartoon, I’d also be able to hit this obnoxious Coffeezilla over the head with a rubber hammer. Sadly, this was real life, so I clamped down on my retort and instead said, “This table is actually out of order because?—”

“I’m still talking here,” he growled, shaking the phone at me and completely ignoring every word out of my mouth. He was tall, and I had to straighten to my full height to stop him from towering over me. His eyes were so dark they were almost completely black. The same color as the scruff that covered his cheeks and jaw. And what a jawline. A statue of Adonis would take notes. But it was his brows, so expressive and sharp, that held my attention as he hissed, “What did you not understand about my previous sentence?”

Fine then. I released his arm, and he turned away from me. What did I care about helping some obnoxious beast who treated everyone like shit?

He hung up abruptly, sat on the tall bar stool, and put his coffee cup down, sans lid. As I’d expected, it immediately caused the top of the table to tip. Coffee cascaded over the edge of the table and into his lap like a caffeine-infused waterfall.

It was glorious. For me, anyway. He was less than pleased.

“Damnit!” he shouted, jumping up and trying to get out of the way as the drink soaked into his jeans. I sighed, a small laugh escaping the back of my throat. He didn’t seem to be hurt, thankfully, more just furious at the turn of events. “Are you laughing?” he snapped, glaring at me.

I couldn’t help it. This was exactly what I’d spent all morning barely managing to avoid, and the fact that this hot shot ended my streak was kind of hilarious. Besides, it couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy.

“Why didn’t you try to stop me?” he continued.

“What do you think I was trying to do before? You know, when you accused me of not having manners?” I asked. “You were apparently too busy yelling at your dad and being a jackass to listen to me.”

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