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“He said you were the best waitress he’s ever had,” Harv says. “And he wants to set up his weekly board meetings here at our restaurant.” He’s beaming.

“Oh.” So, wait. Am I a total narcissist? Maybe this isn’t even about me. “Was he asking for me? Kiki said?—”

“He wants you to wait on the board for their meetings, but they do them during the day and you usually take nights. You’d only have to switch to days on Tuesday, and you get Sunday and Monday off already, so I thought?—”

“I’ll do it,” I say.

Making Harvey happy? That’s a no-brainer. So what if I have to wait on a bunch of stuffy business people? It’s not like he’s asking me out. He was impressed with therestaurant, not me. I’m an idiot.

“Oh,” Harv says. “And he was hoping you would wait on him tonight, too.”

Well, crap.

“Chop chop,” he says. “We have a VIP to impress.”

Only, when I approach his table, Easton doesn’t look like a VIP businessman. With the smile on his wickedly curved mouth, he looks a lot more like Dickie Greenleaf—Jude Law’s most epic role.

“Bea,” he says, smiling as he stands.

He’s acting like he’d been waiting just for me, which has the other waiters looking and pointing.

“Easton,” I hiss as I shake my head slightly.

He sits, thankfully.

I hand him a menu.

“I’m not sure I should really be waiting on you again today.” I point at the empty chair across from him. “I ran off your last date, and even with your millions, they couldn’t match you with a better one?”

“Your boss didn’t tell you?” He lifts his eyebrows. “I told him I’d pay all the revenue you usually make for all the tables you usually wait on. Then you can eat with me.” He jumps up and pulls out the seat across from him. “This one’s yours.”

5

EASTON

It’s a grand gesture.

It’s what Elizabeth told me to do when I told her I liked someone, but the girl wasn’t interested.

Actually, first she laughed.

For a long time.

But once she finally stopped, she asked for details.

I made some up, because I wasn’t about to tell her I was borderline stalking her husband’s foster sister. I might sound like the villain in that scenario.

“You’re hot,” Elizabeth said. “I mean, I don’t have junk genes, but you definitely got better physical appearance markers than I did.”

I rolled my eyes.

“She probably thinks you’re just interested in the chase.” My sister shrugged. “Most rich guys are. Think about Bentley.”

“Emerson’s friend?”

“A family friend for all of them. He dated for a long time before he was ready to get married and settle down.” Her air quotes for settling were funny. “And you’re higher profile right now than he is, because yoursuccess is new, and frankly, because you’re not quite thirty yet.”

“There aren’t many rich guys with a six pack.”

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