Page 7 of Cinderella Screwed Me Over
Mindy ushered us to a table and left so we could look over the menu.
Nadine lifted her menu and studied it, even though we both knew she’d end up getting the grilled chicken salad. I lifted mine, too, simply for something to look at, when deep male voices caught my attention, and I glanced in their direction. Jake and Chad stood near the back, discussing something. I threw my menu up, not wanting Jake to see me.
Okay, so he does work here.He wasn’t wearing the normal waiter attire, either.Hmm, guess I’ll see what I can find out from Mindy.
“So, what do you think about Mrs. Crabtree’s remodel?” Nadine asked. “Are we going to go with the Pepto-pink color, or are we going to try to talk her out of it?”
I peeked around my menu—no sign of Jake—then lowered it. “I suggested a lighter pink that wouldn’t make me think of an upset stomach, but she insists she wants that particular pink.”
“It’s going to be the most god-awful bathroom.”
“I talked her out of painting all the walls—told her accent walls are all the rage these days. She seemed to buy it, so that’ll help tone it down. Then, next time we meet, I’m going to tell her that stripes are in. If we’re really lucky, we’ll end up with one pink-and-white-striped wall that we can work accent decorations into. It might be kind of cute, actually.”
“Hello, are you ladies…?” Jake trailed off when his gaze lit on me. “Darby. Hi.”
I was impressed he remembered my name. Most people could only remember it was unusual. Even without his hand on my hip, my body reacted to him, my pulse quickening and my stomach churning with a mixture of nerves and attraction. “Hi, Jake.”
He rubbed his fingers across his jaw—such a simple motion, but it drew my attention to his handsome features. He was the exact type of guy I used to lose my mind over. “I didn’t expect… Well, you did imply you came here a lot,” he said.
“AndIwasn’t lying.” Yes, I needed to remember the lying part and ignore how hot the guy was. I gestured to Nadine. “This is Nadine. Nadine, Jake. Nadine and I work together. And we do end up eating here and bringing clients in a lot.”
“Hi,” Nadine said with a giant grin, adding in a healthy dose of eye batting. “So, what do you do?”
I crossed my arms and looked up at him. “Yeah, and before you answer, maybe I should mention that I know most everyone who works here. Including the guy who actually owns this place.”
Jake’s brow furrowed. “You mean me?”
“I mean Brent.”
“Right. Brent and I own the place.” Jake’s confused expression turned into one of amusement. “But you don’t believe me.”
I looked down at my menu, not wanting to have to call him a liar to his face. Sarah, one of the waitresses, walked up to our table, notepad and pen in her hand.
“Sarah,” Jake said. “Could you tell these ladies why I’m here?”
“By their table?” Sarah asked. She was a little on the ditzy side.
“At the restaurant. Why am I at the restaurant now, when I haven’t been for the past several months.”
“Jake was opening up another restaurant in Las Vegas, so he’s been there for a while, and just got back.” Sarah glanced at him. “Is that what you mean?”
“It’s exactly what I mean.”
Heat crept up my neck and into my cheeks. He wasn’t lying—he actually owned the place. My foot was inserted so far in my mouth, I couldn’t form words. I just stared up at him like an idiot.
He tapped the edge of the table. “Enjoy your meal. I’m sure Sarah will take good care of you. And feel free to let me know if there’s anything else you need.”
Nadine watched him walk away, then turned her attention back to me. “Holy hell, he’s hot. How do you know him?”
“I don’t,” I said.And after insulting him like that, I’m never going to.
…
As if my day hadn’t been bad enough already, I had a date tonight. Unless you’re in an actual relationship with someone, a Monday night date is basically a throwaway. It’s like, hey, if you suck, at least I didn’t waste a good day of the week on you; if you’re actually normal, we can always make a plan for the weekend.
Believe it or not, I’ve been accused of being pessimistic. Pardon the hell out of me for being what I’d call realistic, because my optimism had slowly been drained one horrible relationship at a time.
“Oh, they weren’t all bad,” Mom had said when she’d called to set me up on the blind date and I informed her why I didn’t want to go. While I’ve accepted the idea of never having a serious, full-blown relationship again, some people—especially my mom—don’t want me to give up on finding “the one” yet.
