Page 2 of Beneath the Surface

Besides, it’s not the first time someone less than appealing has thought to take advantage of me.

My eyes lock on the lone stranger in the corner, and my stomach flips. He’sintimidating.And for the first time since he walked in, he’s staring right at me. My breath catches in my throat at the intensity in his gaze, his eyes almost an unnatural golden brown, and I watch as they drop to where the greaseball’s slimy fingers are wrapped around my wrist.

His grip tightens, drawing my attention back. I lean in close until my lips are just a breath away from his ear. “Sorry,sugar, but I’m a special service. Only available for those who know how to eat me properly.”

His muddy brown eyes flare, his mouth opening to say something, but before he can, a shadow falls over the table. I glance up, my breath sticking in my throat as I crane my neck to see who’s towering over us.

It’s the stranger from the corner. He’s taken off his black leather jacket, and my eyes trail along the rainbow of colors that cover every inch of his tan skin.

Who is this guy?

He still doesn’t say a word, the veins in his forearms popping as he crosses them and continues to stare down the table. Slowly, I feel the grip on my wrist loosen until it disappears completely.

“Whatever. None of this is worth the trouble. The foodorthe used up pussy,” the wrist grabber huffs. He jerks out of the faded red booth, shouldering past me and stomping out of the door. His friends follow, and as I stare after them, the only thought that rushes through my mind is who will end up paying for the Cokes. No way Johnny lets it go, money’s tight enough around here as it is.

Just fucking great.

I spin, my eyes narrowing. “You scared them off.”

The tattooed stranger smirks, his golden eyes sparking, and it makes me want to smack the pretty right off his face—watch his cheek grow pink from the sting of my hand.

“I did you a favor,” he responds.

My breath stutters, not expecting the deep rumble of his voice. Like it scraped over gravel before it passed his lips, creating a rough, but oddly enticing sound.

I scoff. “I’ve had enoughfavorsto last a lifetime.”

“Is that your way of saying thank you?” he asks, his brow arching.

“That’s my way of saying, mind your fucking business.” I smile wide as I hiss through my teeth.

He cocks his head, and I lift my chin, refusing to fidget under his gaze.

It’s absolutely ridiculous how tall he is. I feel small enough on a normal day—barely passing five foot two—but with his frame, he could pick me up and put me in his pocket, or break me in half without even trying.

“I’m adding their drinks to your bill.” I slip my pad of paper back in my apron.

He grins slightly before something passes over his face, making his entire demeanor change. With a sharp nod, he spins, walking back to his table and picking up his book.

Good.Prick.

An hour later, he finally leaves. I walk over to his booth, cleaning up his dirty mug and wiping down the table. He was the last person here, but he never said another word after our encounter, and now that my irritation has died down, I feel like a bitch. He was only trying to help.

That guilt triples when I lift his mug and find a crisp one-hundred-dollar bill underneath.

My chest squeezes, and maybe I should feel guilty for what is clearly a sympathy tip, but I don’t. Because this means I’ll be able to put food on the table.Realfood.

Realistically, I should be putting that money straight into savings. There isn’t a bill that exists in this town without my name on it. But I can’t stop myself from dropping by the twenty-four-hour corner store and picking up some treats. Ingredients for homemade pancakes, Cool Whip and chocolate chips. And then I grab some cookie dough ice cream, too.

Just because.

My legs ache as I walk the six blocks home, and there’s a crick in my neck from the long hours and the lack of adequate sleep, but I ignore it as I knock on Susan, my next-door neighbor’s, front door.

“Hey, Susan. Sorry it’s so late,” I speak low.

Susan yawns and smiles. “No worries, honey. Good night?” Her brow raises as she glances at the few bags dangling off my arm.

I shrug, the corner of my lips twitching. “Yeah. It was a good night.”

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