Her eyes come to me again, and they’re still missing that hostility I was expecting. Maybe it’s because her boss is just across the room, not that Camille would ever argue with anyone about giving me a hard time. But Jill doesn’t know that.
“Yeah. Tonight’s my first night.” But I’m not out of the woods yet because her gaze switches back to Bran. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Bran. It’s nice to put a face with the name after all this time.”
“Likewise.” Bran smiles like a cat who just caught a whole flock of canaries. Shit.
Jill’s lips spread in a smile to match his. “Although I had it on good authority that you resembled a Wookie and your balls weren’t ever going to drop.”
Ted chokes on his beer, and Bran’s smile drops like a brick before he punches me hard enough in the arm that my bar stool swivels halfway around. “Asshole.”
This pulls a full-throated laugh out of Jill, and I can’t help but stare while the air around me does its best impression of a vacuum and steals all my breath. It’s just like before. Not a thing has changed, and I’m drowning in familiar waters without so much as a warning or a life vest.
But Jill’s safe on dry land without a care in the world, it seems, because she winks at Bran and Ted and sets our plates in front of us. “As enjoyable as this is, I can’t afford to get behind on my first night. Anything else I can get you boys?” She flips the empty tray under her arm and smiles at us expectantly.
She’s acting like this morning never happened and we just met for the first time. I’m not really sure how I feel about that.
“No, this looks unbelievable. Thank you so much,” Ted responds for all of us.
“All right then. Enjoy.” She turns to go, and I open my mouth to say something. I haven’t the first clue what, but something is trying to crawl its way out of my throat. What is she doing working here? What is she even doing in town? Where has she been for the last decade, and why does she need a place to stay? She pauses and looks over her shoulder. “Milo, you have time for a word later? I’ve got my break in thirty.”
Ted’s already digging into his meal, and Bran’s sporting an evil grin which Jill can’t see, but I do my best to ignore him while I croak out, “Sure,” and then watch as she hurries back to the kitchen and disappears through the galley doors.
“Well, well, well.”
No use staring at the doors all night, so my eyes flick back to Bran. “You don’t have the first clue what you’re talking about. Eat your dinner.”
Which he does, but he does it while snickering under his breath.
I’m going to need another beer.
Chapter Ten
JILL
I flatten myself against the kitchen wall just inside the door while my lungs search for air. Oh my God. My head tilts back, and I close my eyes for a second, silently asking God what the actual fuck he’s thinking!
Milo was… not horrible to me. He even kind of flirted with me. Well, maybe flirted is the wrong word, but something. It was so… friendly. Although, I guess I was nice to him too. But I had to be—I’m at work, it’s my first day, and I did call the cops on him after all. But what was I thinking asking him if we could talk over my break? Bad idea. Bad, bad, bad idea. I know myself too well. I’ll start trying to apologize, then he’ll piss me off, and I’ll end up yelling at him and losing my job. Either that or I’ll go rogue and start flirting with the bastard.
Would it be bad form to ask around for a Valium on my first day? Yeah, I thought so.
“Did you get to meet Bran?”
My eyes fly open, and I unstick myself from the wall with an awkward lurch forward. “What? Oh. Yeah. I met him. He’s super nice—and cute. Good job.” I force myself to wink at Rayna, who’s multitasking like a mofo with one hand stirring a large pot and the other flipping sliced pork tenderloins in a pan. She’s my top prospect for a friend in this town, and the best way to screw that up would be to show too much of my crazy. An assistant chef and three kitchen workers race around the space along with two servers running out with hot plates. I do my best to stay out of the way. Camille only gave me three tables since it’s my first solo shift, and I just got through checking on all of them before running the specials to the bar.
Rayna’s laugh is cute as hell. “Yeah, he’s one of the good ones. And it doesn’t hurt that food is the way to his heart—and just about everything else.”
I smile at her, willing the drum set in my chest to quiet down. “Well, I’d say you’ve got it made then if the rave reviews of your food are anything to go by.” I throw a thumb over my shoulder. “The customers talk about you like you’re Emeril in lederhosen.”
“They’re sweet. I mean, of course my food’s amazing.” She grins. “But we’ve got a ton of regulars, and Camille sells the hell out of this place. Don’t let her batty-old-lady act fool you. She’s a shark when it comes to the business and marketing.”
I nod. “Well, I’d better get back to it.” I turn to head back to the dining room, but Rayna calls after me.
“Hey, did you meet Milo?”
I force myself to keep on walking. “You could say that.” Ugh.
The couple at table thirteen is completely sauced by the time my break rolls around. I ask Kip, the bartender/food runner/unidentifiable movie extra, what their policy is in these situations, and he explains that the couple are old friends of Camille who come in every so often to get drunk and then go to karaoke down the street. He assures me they take a cab home after, so I file the info away in my mental rolodex where I keep all pertinent customer information and go serve them their third bottle of wine.
But I’m dawdling. I’m dawdling because Bran and Ted are no longer at the bar and Milo is counting a tip from his wallet and sliding off his bar stool. I’m out of time. And I’m being a big whiney baby about the whole thing. Just apologize to the man and then get your ass back to work, Jill. Do not take any bait he throws out. Do not raise your voice. Do not look directly into his eyes—or his package. Wait, what? Great, now I’m arguing with myself.
Yanking off my apron in the kitchen, I brief Natalie—who has the unfortunate role of the eldest von Trapp son, Kirk—on my tables in case they need anything during the next fifteen minutes. Then I straighten my posture and walk as casually as possible back into the dining room. Milo stands just outside the kitchen doors, and I almost run right into him. His hand snakes out to steady me, and the place where his palm comes in contact immediately warms.
“Sorry,” I mumble and step aside, away from his touch. “Uh, let’s go outside. I’m not supposed to take breaks in the dining room.”
He runs a hand through his hair, and I wonder for a second if he’s as nervous as I am. But why would he be? Unless… Unless he’s about to tell me he’s suing me over the whole police thing! He wouldn’t, would he? No. That’s crazy. Or is it? Shit.
I’m practically sprinting by the time we get out to the sidewalk, and my heart isn’t far behind in the race. Words start spilling out before I even turn around to face him.