Page 3 of Trouble Me
“It’s fine,” he said, his tone sharp. He put down his glass with a thump and stilled her hand by covering it with his own.
Their faces were close enough for her to see the bright blue irises darken. Her heart raced and warmth spread through her body. Mixed with the smell of soda and peach pie, hints of pine mingled with laundry detergent teased her. Despite her embarrassment, she wanted to bury her nose in his chest and take a deep breath.
He cleared his throat and leaned back, dropping his hand and putting distance between them. “It’s fine. I have other shirts. Just bring the check.”
Determined to save face, Emma pulled herself to her full height, ignoring the hearty protests from her back. “Give me a minute,” she said, matching his cold, clipped tone.
After she brought his ticket, it wasn’t long before her last customer of the night walked out the door without so much as a thank you, then climbed into an SUV parked at the curb.
“Good riddance,” she muttered to herself, heading to the now-empty table, bus tub in hand. She didn’t care how hot he was, or how well he’d filled out his dark jeans.
Her movements were slow, weighed down by exhaustion in her bones. She cleared the dishes and scooped up the ticket, only to send the cash fluttering to the worn-out concrete floor. Groaning, she bent over and snatched the bills up.
Wait a minute. She shifted the bills in her hand and counted. Holy shit.
Mr. Surly had left her a one-hundred-dollar tip.
Chapter 2
So We Meet Again
Insomnia was an oldfriend of Shane Kavanaugh’s. The type of unwanted friend that came begging for money they swore they'd pay back and never did. Yet, you still gave in to their pleas.
Mr. Sandman didn’t have the address of the fancy cabin his assistant had rented for him, which was how he found himself in his office, clicking through pictures of some property his father wanted him to scope out in the area.
The thrill of wheeling and dealing thrummed through his veins. He’d missed that rush, the eagerness to work. After Marlene’s death two years ago, there hadn’t been much he’d wanted to get out of bed for in the mornings. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. The heaviness he’d felt in his chest for so long after she’d died had abated. Even after all the shit he’d gone through with Marlene, he missed her. Well, he missed the woman he’d thought she was, not who she’d turned out to be.
Now that Dad was sick, he needed to get his shit together. The business needed him to step up and be the heir he was supposed to be, to be a leader. KVN Incorporated had been around for over a century and helmed by a Kavanaugh the entire time. The company was not going to die out on Shane’s watch.
Of their own volition, his thoughts turned to a curvy little waitress with big, amber-colored eyes. His body tightened at the thought of her dangerous curves even the threadbare, pale peach uniform couldn’t hide.
He rubbed a hand over his jaw and sighed. Shit, she was hot, but the last thing he needed was to add a woman to the mix.
On second thought, maybe he should release some stress before he went into full-on workaholic mode. He could head down to Maggie’s Diner for some breakfast, see if Emma the waitress would be interested in a drink—preferably one she didn’t spill on him—or something. Emphasis on “or something.” All he needed was one night.
Shane jumped when his cell danced a jig on the desk. “Shit.”
