Page 18 of Taste Of You

Six

“You’ll be on section seven tonight near the back,” Ana informs, her eyes flickering behind me every few minutes. He’s somewhere behind me, I know he is, and I’m near shaking in my silent rage. “We’re expecting a busy night. NBA playoffs kick off tonight, and we’ll be slammed. Keep it moving, and if you need any help, come find me in section one.”

My section. The same section I’ve been working since my first night here.

I’m positively fuming. Pissed that Jet’s being so petty. That rather than talking to me—confront our attraction head on—he chooses to ignore me. To send me to the very back of his bar and away from his presence.

If that’s what he wants, then fine. Bring it.

And even as I think this, my heart clenches and tears spring to my eyes as his message comes across loud and clear.

My instincts are right. Then and now.

Jet isn’t for me, and I need to accept this. I have to focus on school and raising my niece—prove that I’m more than capable of providing the life my sister would have given her. Raise her to be an independent and successful woman.

This is for the best.

“Sure,” I spit through clenching teeth, and look back to meet his eyes. There’s movement beside him, and my eyes flicker toward the other person—Ben—who is shaking his head.

Thank God he’s working tonight. It’ll make everything easier.

I’ll stay far away from the area Jet is serving from and run all my orders through Ben.

“Why don’t you take a moment to collect yourself before the night starts?” Ana suddenly whispers low so only I can hear. She’s leaning closer, expression hard as she looks once more behind me. “Go, girl. Take a moment to fluff your hair and add another coat of gloss to those bee-stung lips. Pink those cheeks and fix your tits—lift that perky set—and smile like you’ve never done so before. Show that stubborn mule that his idiocy isn’t affecting you.”

“I’m not into playing games.” No sense in denying it. It’s palpable. Everyone can tell that something is wrong.

That we are off.

“No. Not games.” She smiles, and it is wicked. “More like teaching him a lesson. A valuable one at that.”

“Like what? Don’t be a dick to your employee?”

“You kill me, sweets.” Ana laughs, and it’s loud, a high-pitched giggle that draws attention toward us. Male attention.

There’s a manly growl from somewhere behind me soon after. Angry—a warning call.

Ignoring the sound, I arch a brow. “Get to the point, dork.”

“Basic teachings will tell you that if you don’t take care of a valuable item, you may lose it.” Her smile grows the longer a table near the left checks us out. One guy, in particular, calls me over, his stare intense.

Holding a hand up, I mouth one second. Not that I get a chance as Jet walks over to take his order personally.

“Ridiculous,” I mutter, and Ana nods.

“Totally, which proves I’m right.”

“The point, chica. Explain.”

“The point is...” she huffs and flicks my arm again “...thatmisplaced treasures can be found, and the new owner will treat it like the precious gift it is. You are a coveted diamond he can lose in the blink of an eye, Camille. In other words, Jet needs to man up or get off the freaking pot.”

Or get off the freaking pot.

I’ve been replaying those words in my head for the past two hours. Even as customers pull me in a different direction—drink and food being ordered nonstop—it’s all I can think about.

Get off the freaking pot.

Does she know something I don’t? Because from where I’m standing, he already did. Not that Jet was ever on it.

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