Page 16 of Taking Care of the Target

“Hey.” Tyra, the waitresses who’d mostly communicated with sneered one-word answers or commands, stood there, a false smile on her face that immediately raised red flags. Tyra reminded Cassie of the mean girls in high school. Pretty, privileged, and determined to get her way no matter who she had to step on.

I suppose that’s judgmental. I should give her a chance.“Yes?”

“That guy is super hot.” She tilted her head in Vince’s direction, even though Cassie would’ve known who she meant without it. Not to mention he was the only customer left. “He’s alone, right?”

“Yes, he came in alone.”

“Good. I’ll take that to him.” Tyra grabbed the salad out of her hand and Cassie just blinked, her mouth hanging open. She was going to give the girl a chance, not give her Vince. Not that he was hers to give or anything. Since her only option now would be to run and tackle her for the salad, Cassie helplessly watched as Tyra approached Vince’s table.

So much for being bold.

Tyra, on the other hand, had no problem with boldness. She never tugged at her short skirt in an attempt to make it longer, and the top three buttons on her shirt were undone. With her long dark hair and Barbie-like physique, she had the looks to pull it off, too. She leaned over Vince, placing her hand on his shoulder as she set his salad down, and a surprisingly strong wave of jealousy rolled through Cassie.

Calm down, emotions. He’s hot and all, but for all I know he could be a crazed killer looking for his next victim.Tyra slid a piece of paper to him—her phone number, no doubt.And now I’m never going to, because when she’s an option, why would he choose me?

Vince looked away from Tyra’s beauty queen grin. His eyes scanned the room and suddenly locked on hers, causing her heart to lurch in her chest. It was too late to pretend not to be watching, so she shot him a quick smile, complete with a tiny two-fingered wave.Maybe I’m not out of the running just yet.

Tyra followed his line of sight, shot daggers at Cassie, and then rearranged her face to a friendly expression before turning to Vince. To keep from obsessing over their exchange or looking like a desperate stalker type, Cassie turned to roll silverware for tomorrow.

The old Cassie would just step aside, but the new Cassie wasn’t going to be a push over. When his food order came up, she’d take it to him and show that she could bat her eyes with the best of them. After all, how often did hot guys flirt with her?

Carpe the hottie—that’s gonna be my new motto.She laughed at her own joke, quickly stifling it when Tyra strode over and sighed loud enough to convey her annoyance.

Cassie took her time tugging the white linen napkin into a tight roll and then casually turned to her. “Yes?”

“He said to tell you that you promised you’d be back, and he’s holding you to it.” Tyra ran her gaze up and down Cassie, the deepening scowl making it clear she wasn’t impressed with what she saw. “Who’d chose you over me?”

“I guess he would,” Cassie said, shock coming seconds after her words. She never said things like that—not out loud, anyway. Luckily the cook shouted that the food was up, so Cassie escaped before Tyra’s wrath could be unleashed.

She walked across the restaurant and placed Vince’s food in front of him.

“I think I offended your friend,” he said as she withdrew her hand, her usual spiel fading from the tip of her tongue.

“Friend’s a generous word for what she is to me.” Okay, maybe she needed to reel back on saying every thought that popped into her head. There was a fine line between bold and bitchy. “I haven’t worked here for very long, so honestly, I barely know her.”

“You seem like a really good waitress for being so new at it.”

“New here. Old to the job.”

He looked at her like she was a puzzle he couldn’t quite fit together. The expression felt familiar somehow. Or was it a familiar longing? That desire to get to know someone better. To have a friend or a boyfriend—someone to talk to at the end of a long day. Someone who’d come to visit if she landed in the freaking hospital.

“So where’d you work before?” he asked.

“A tiny restaurant in Colorado. That’s where I’m from originally.” She leaned a hip on the side of the tall booth, bringing them closer. “Why the interest in my job?”

“It’s more an interest in the girl doing the job.” The deep voice combined with his statement sent a pleasant shiver down her spine.

Vince winked and then picked up his knife and fork. He paused and looked back at her. She was about to ask if it was cooked to his satisfaction—even though he hadn’t tried it yet—when he asked, “Why’d you say youthoughtit was the best steak you ever had?”

“The short answer is I tend to ramble when I should just stop talking.”

“What’s the long answer?” The intense way he stared at her, clearly waiting, made her face grow hot.

“I… don’t remember every steak I’ve had.”

He narrowed his eyes. “That’s not the long version.”

No one at McCarthy’s knew about her accident, and she planned on keeping it that way. Who wanted to work with someone with memory problems? Only the hospital staff and Tom knew about her amnesia, and that was because she hadn’t had to tell them. She didn’t even know where to start, or if she should spill her guts to a total stranger.

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