Page 5 of Taste Of You

Pulling my phone out, I send a text to our cook in the back and ask him to prepare the blackened salmon sandwich that Camille loves. It’s the only thing she gets when it’s time for her break. Within seconds, my phone pings.

On it. With fries and no ketchup. ~ Roberto.

Thanks. ~JetA

“Jet worries about us all so much.” A snicker leaves Ana—she knows what I did. Loves seeing me crumble for Millie. “He’s such a good boss.”

“Get back to work.” I turn to give her a pointed look, one that tells her to knock it the hell off.

In true Ana fashion, though, she waves me off. “Can’t. Not time to clock in yet. Jessica still has another thirty before we go on.”

“Then go away.”

“Don’t kill my fun.”

“I’m going to go and read my notes from class,” Millie says and shakes her head; she finds the way we bicker like siblings amusing.

“No, you don’t,” Ana interjects with a hand up. “Get your glass of ginger ale and get over here. I need deets, woman.”

“On what?” Before she can reach for a glass, I’m handing her one already full to the brim and with a few cherries tossed in. “Thanks,” she says low, her upper lip curling into a soft smile.

At the sight, my heart thumps and dick twitches.

“You’re welcome.” I grunt, and then add a wink to soften the sound. Once again, her blush blooms. Makes me want to kiss the shit out of her. She’s young and needs help. Millie is not for you.

That’s my mantra.

I’m trying.

God knows I am, but each day the battles seems closer to becoming a failure. Epic failure.

“How was the test?” Ana interjects again, and Camille looks away from me. Jesus, I hate that, but I bite my tongue. “Everything okay?”

Test? Running around? What the fuck?

“Didn’t this semester just start? Are you having problems with a professor?” I’d kick the prick’s ass with no shame.

Millie walks around and hops her cute butt on a stool, and I watch with hungry eyes how the bottom edge of her shorts rides up just below the curve of her cheeks. I have to bite down hard on my bottom lip to hold in the growl that’s building within my chest.

She’s showing too much skin, and I loathe it. Thank Christ it’s still early enough that this corner of the bar is empty, with just a few tables occupied across the room by a group of college kids watching a game.

I just have to figure out a way to keep her behind the bar with me. Away from everyone’s line of sight.

“It wasn’t so much a test, but more of a questionnaire on social media and marketing strategies used by big companies. Our thoughts on ads, propaganda, and what is eye catching versus annoying.”

“Sounds fun?” Ana phrases this like a question, and Millie laughs.

“Liar.”

“Okay, I am. That sounds so boring.” Taking a sip from her coffee, Ana looks up at me and winks. Not a friendly one either—this one screams of I enjoy making you uncomfortable. “So...” she exaggerates the word “...tell me about the interesting shit. Cute guys: how many, who caught your eye, and can you hook me up with one?”

Jealousy, the kind of which I’ve never felt before, flows through me. I see red. I want to show up and stake a claim on a girl that isn’t mine.

Show any punk that even so much as smiles at her that he isn’t good enough. Never will be.

Millie tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. “Not that I have noticed. Too immature.”

“So, you like them older? Nice.”

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