Page 25 of Savage Cravings

He had said that with a sleazy smile on his face, right before he said it was good, since most men loved the innocent, girl-next-door look. Which all just ensured I hated my features even more.

My face made people think I didn’t have a lot of experience—and that they couldteachme.

I swallowed back the bile making its way up my throat from the memory and shook my head as the redhead snapped her fingers at me.

“God, are you stupid? Can’t you pay attention?” She sneered.

I blinked. “Right. Sorry, what can I get you?”

“Just some water with a slice of lemon and a Long Island iced tea, if you think you can handle that.”

“Annette,” the brunette said, looking at me with sympathetic eyes.

“What?” Annette asked, glaring over at me. “She’s the one staring off into space and not doing her job right.”

I looked over to where Jon, the manager, was watching, before turning back to them and offering a small smile. “I apologize.”

I quickly took the drink order for the other two girls. “I’ll put your order in right away.”

I walked away before they could say anything else.

Jon stopped me just as I dropped the drink order off at the bar.

“Everything okay, Mila?”

I turned to him. “Of course.”

He didn’t look like he believed me. “Right. Just remember to smile. And don’t worry too much about this. Most of my customers are men and they should be easier to handle. Especially if you remember to smile at them.”

It took everything in me to keep smiling.

I nodded and moved around him to the kitchen to find my order for the couple was ready.

Just six more hours until my shift ended.

Thirty minutes later, the couple was getting ready to pay for their bill, and the group of girls still hadn't made a dent in their main course.

I tapped my pen against the counter, watching my section. The third table still hadn’t been seated yet, and I should have been thankful for the slow night, but it seemed to only be slow in my section.

Once the couple left, I would only have one table to tend to while all the other wait staff was busy.

I hadn’t realized until now how much I hated being idle, as I stared at the empty table and waited for some group to fill it.

The boy from my first table stood up, and he helped his date with her jacket. I waited for them to leave before walking over to the table to grab the check so the table could be bussed.

Just as I was about to walk back to my spot on the counter, the redhead from the other table raised her hand and snapped her fingers to get my attention.

I held in a groan and walked over to them.

“How can I help you?”

She pointed rudely at her half-empty cup of Long Island iced tea. “Refill.”

“Right away,” I responded, about to move away from the table once more when I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up on end.

I’d felt it earlier today when I got back from grocery shopping, but had put it off as paranoia when nothing happened. I couldn’t do that now, especially when I felt the energy in the entire pub shift as a gust of air blew in from the open door.

It shouldn’t have been loud, but the small slam of the front door seemed to be in tandem with my erratic heart, making it stall for two long seconds before picking up again, weighing me down a ton.

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