Page 46 of Pretend You Love Me
She just stares at me for a moment and then says, “I won’t make nearly as much money in tips that way, and you know it.”
“I’ll cover the tips.”
“What does that mean?”
“Whatever Sadie gets tonight. I’ll match it,” I say.
Her eyes narrow on me. “I don’t want your money. I’m not a charity case.”
I bite my tongue before I can point out that she’s staying at my place and eating my food for free. Instead I say, “I’m your employer. This is what I think is fair. It’s not charity.”
She crosses her arms.
“For a week,” I say.
“What?”
“No table service for a week, and I want to see that the bruises on your side are mostly gone before you’re allowed to do it.”
I’m bracing for a fight because I know the wordallowedis sending her right over the edge, but she just inhales deeply and smiles. “Whatever you say, boss.”
She leans forward and stretches up on her tiptoes. I hold my breath. She gives me a quick kiss on the cheek and then whirls around and heads back to work.
At the end of the night, she looks tired. I don’t know how’s she’s on her feet still but she’s smiling and talking. She ended up making almost as many tips as Sadie just delivering drinks. It’s that fucking outfit and that fucking smile she’s flashing to every customer. She’s good for business. I hate to admit it, but she is. She’s not good forme, but she’s good for business.
I grab the bike and throw it in the back as she climbs into the truck.
“I really didn’t know that was your place,” she says, softly when I get into the truck.
“No shit, cupcake. You should have seen the look on your face when I told you.”
She blushes a little.
“Thank you for not firing me.”
I look at her out of the corner of my eye. “Oh, I did fire you. You just didn’t leave.”
She laughs. “I guess if we’re getting technical.”
She yawns and looks out the window. “It’s so weird for it to be light this late. Do you ever get used to it?”
“Better than the near perpetual darkness of winter.”
“You’ve lived here your whole life?”she asks.
“I grew up here. Moved away. Came back a little over four years ago,” I answer.
She’s studying me. I’m staring straight ahead - eyes on the road.
“What happened between you and Hawk?”
My jaw tightens, Everything tightens. I don’t want to have this conversation with her. Not now. Not ever.
“I’ll tell you when you tell me who you’re running from,” I reply.
Now her jaw is set tight too. She surprises me by saying, “I suppose that’s fair.”
“How are you feeling?” I ask.
