“Your hair looks really sweet like that, by the way,” I said. I’d meant to tell her earlier but kept forgetting when I got caught up in waitress duties.
Seeing as she was getting quiet on me and most likely thinking about the shit her ex was always dishing out, now seemed like the perfect time to boost her spirits with a compliment.
And I was right.
Kali looked up, reached for the braid that was hanging over one shoulder, and wrapped her hand around the end of it. “Thanks,” she said, smiling big. “That means a lot.”
“Of course, babe.”
I gave her a wink before I turned around and walked out from behind the counter with the mason jar.
After checking on all my tables twice, I finally took my time walking over to Jamie’s booth. And before I could utter the most impersonal greeting in the history of impersonal greetings, I was forced to witness fangirl flirting on an eye-rolling level.
“You’re Jamie McCade, right?” asked one of the girls from the booth next to Jamie.
She stood on her knees, angled forward with her elbows resting on the back of the seat, her head tipped down as she dragged the tip of her finger across her glossed bottom lip and gazed at him from behind her false lashes.
Her friends giggled with their hands to their mouths.
Give me a break.
“The one and only,” Jamie replied with a smirk.
“Oh, my God. We are your biggest fans,” another girl quickly said. “Like, in the entire world. We love watching you. We think you’re so hot.”
Squeals and muffled “oh, my Gods” erupted from the other side of the booth.
Jamie laughed quietly under his breath.
I was a giggle away from choking on my own vomit. The first girl elbowed her friend, shushing her, then turned back to Jamie and, with a voice sounding years older than she most likely was, said to him, “I hear you give private lessons. Do you think you could teach me? I’m a fast learner and very eager to please.”
“Wow,” I murmured through a chuckle, looking between desperation and head-up-his-own-ass. “How ’bout I give you two a minute to work out your little underage arrangement. I don’t need to witness this. I’ll be back.” I moved to turn and step away when a hand gripped my forearm, halting me. I whipped my head around and glared at Jamie, yanking my arm out of his hold. “Get off.”
“I’m ready to order,” he told me, his face serious. He turned to the other booth and said, “Call Wax. You can set up your lesson time over the phone.”
The girl looked down at my arm as if Jamie was still attached to it, narrowed her eyes, then glanced from my face to Jamie’s, waiting until she landed on his before she showed her smile again.
“Great. I’m really looking forward to it,” she said, her voice lowering to a purr.
“Right on,” he replied.
“Totally,” she responded.
“God, it’s like I can feel myself getting dumber just from listening to this,” I commented, wincing as I rubbed my temples.
The girl eager for a lesson scoffed, shot me a hard look, then gave a much softer one to Jamie before she spun around and plopped back down in her booth.
Probably for the best. I was certain her kid’s meal was getting cold.
“You are so fuckin’ cute when you’re jealous,” Jamie said, his lips curling up. “I dig that, babe.”
“What do you want?” I asked, ignoring his comment, which was both absurd and completely untrue—in no way was I jealous—all while pulling out my pen and ticket book. I clicked the pen open and began doodling on the top of the ticket, writing Loser in a fancy script and adding devil’s horns and a pitchfork.
It was some of my best work.
Jamie chuckled under his breath. “Not bothering with the greeting today, Legs?” he asked.
I kept my gaze focused on my doodle as I continued tracing, and answered, “What’s the point? You never use my name anyway, no matter how many times I’ve asked you to.”
“I use your name a lot, babe.”
That admission drew my head up and paused my hand. He used my name a lot? No, he didn’t. He never used my name. I would’ve absolutely remembered hearing it, marked the occasion on my calendar, and looked back on it as the day hell froze over.
I watched Jamie’s eyes flicker wider, appreciating the attention I was now giving him.
“Excuse me?” I questioned.
Then he licked his lips, tilted his head with a smile, and added, “You spend the night with me, you’ll see what I’m talking about. ’Cause no joke, and I ain’t ashamed to admit this since, deep down, I think you’ll like hearin’ it, even though you’ll stand there looking pissed off and hatin’ on me like you always do. I know hard up when I see it and you’re wearing it, babe, so I’m gonna give it to you straight. Your name is all I’m saying when I’m in my bed, getting there by myself.”
My eyes widened. Holy … shit.
Jamie McCade, God’s model for perfection, was talking about masturbating. I really did not need that visual.
I pinched my lips together and inhaled sharply through my nose, all while ignoring the warmth spreading low in my belly.
“You’re disgusting,” I declared, my voice betraying me and sounding thick with want.
Damn it.
“Yeah, you gotta say that, Legs. Otherwise you’d be admittin’ shit to me you’re not ready to admit yet.”