Page 47 of Made in Malice

I click my tongue at his words and move on to other patrons at the bar.

When I move to pass him several minutes later, he grabs my wrist gently and stops me. “Have you forgotten me already?” His voice is dark.

“No, your drink’s not empty.”

“I need food. What’s good?” His thumb skates over the inside of my wrist in a soft sweep.

“I’ve haven’t eaten here yet, but the burgers are really popular.” My reply is soft, lulled by his touch.

“What else?” He keeps me trapped in his grasp.

“I can get you a menu.”

He shakes his head. “I want you to tell me.”

“This is only my third shift, so I don’t know the menu that well yet.”

“What would you order?”

“The kung-pow shrimp pasta,” I answer.

“Spicy?”

“Maybe a little.”

“I’ll take that, and a beer.”

I slump my shoulders. I just told him I wouldn’t serve him any more drinks if he’s driving, but it’s just a beer, and I work for a few more hours, so he’ll have time to sober up. “Okay.” I give in.

His lips quirk as he finally releases me, but his touch lingers as he pulls away, making sure he brushes his fingers all the way down my hand. What the hell is he doing?

I make eye contact with Jimmy at the opposite end of the bar, and he gives me a scowl that almost rivals Morningstar’s, but I don’t have the urge to challenge him. Maybe it’s because he didn’t call me names the first time we met, or maybe it’s because Lucian just gets under my skin.

I put Lucian’s order into the computer, then keep my distance from my handsy neighbor while tending to all the other people seated at the bar, which is pretty easy since we are fairly busy. Mickey was right—it’s busier than yesterday.

“Here you go.” I slide the large bowl of breaded shrimp and pasta in front of Lucian, then pull a rolled up set of silverware from my apron.

“Looks good, want a bite?” He swirls up a forkful of pasta and skewers a fat piece of shrimp on the end before offering it to me.

“No thanks.” I shake my head in denial, even though my mouth is secretly watering. I probably wouldn’t trust him not to poison me any other time, but since I know where the food came from, it’s even harder to pass up.

He tilts his head to the side, then turns the fork to his mouth and eats the bite. It’s weird that I’m standing here watching him, so I pretend to wipe down the counter until he swallows, then I ask, “Good?”

“Not bad. Are you sure I can’t convince you to have a taste?” He offers me another bite, this one a little smaller.

“No thanks. I’ll be back to check on you in a bit.” The last part comes out from habit, and I finally step away from him.

The next few hours pass too quickly. With each minute I get closer to the end of my shift, I get more nervous about my promise to talk with Lucian. Thankfully, he’s given me some space to do my job, but I can feel his eyes on me every time I move, which makes me hyperaware, not to mention Jimmy seems to be just as interested in my performance.

When I eventually clock out, another waitress taking over for me behind the bar since I only close on Saturdays,Mickey asks, “You all set? Do you need Jimmy to walk you to your car?”

“No, I’m okay.” I flatten my lips, trying for a smile.

“Ready, little lamb?” Lucian makes his presence known, not that I could have forgotten he was here.

“Yeah.”

“See you tomorrow, darlin’. Be safe,” Mickey reminds me loudly.

---