Truly Madly Deeply: Chapter 54

“Doll Parts”—Hole

Row fed me brown sugar mooncakes and passionfruit margaritas my entire shift, which was lovely, because the place was so busy, I definitely needed the pick-me-up. We all did, to be honest, which was why I snuck some of the margaritas to other servers and busboys each time I made a pit stop in the kitchen.

When I came in for my eighth margarita in two hours, Row curled his fingers around my wrist with a frown, my hand holding the fancy drinkware, the pink Himalayan salt gracing the rim. “How are you not shit-faced?”

We both leaned against the butcher block of his station, his body pinning mine.

Everyone in the kitchen was watching us curiously, unused to seeing Row giving anyone special attention. My chest blossomed with pride.

“Us Russians can hold our drink.” I smiled innocently.

“Us Italians can smell bullshit from three states over.” He touched his nose to mine. “No intoxicating my staff, little Dot.”

“It’s not fair that I’m the only one who gets to drink while on shift.”

He dipped his head down, his lips grazing my ear. “It’s not fair that you’ll need to accommodate eleven inches after spending the entire night on your feet.”

I gasped. “I thought Rhyland was supposed to leave early today.”

He bit the tip of my ear teasingly, giving my ass a smack. “Brat. Now get off my station. You’re contaminating it with your germs.”

Rearing my head back, I flashed him a pout. “Thought you liked my germs.”

“I do. I’d keep them as pets if I could. Unfortunately, my customers don’t share the same level of obsession.”

“You mean admiration?”

“I said what I said.” With another pat on my ass, he sent me on my way. The rest of the shift was a hectic blur, which was how I forgot to hand over the check to one of my tables. It was only when I zipped past the two patrons—thirtysomething, sharp-looking businessmen who appeared out of place in Staindrop—and saw their pissed-off faces that I realized they had asked for the check ten minutes ago.

“My apologies, gentlemen. I’ll be right back with your check.” I bowed, swiftly making my way to the register to produce their bill. I came back with a complimentary raspberry soufflé and an apologetic smile.

“Here you go. On the house.” I put the bill down, along with their treat. One of them wrapped his fingers around my arm, stopping me from leaving.

“Really? You keep us stuck here for forty minutes and all you have to show for it is a pink biscuit?”

My eyes widened, and my skin burned where he touched me like he was putting live fire to my flesh. White-hot panic coursed through me. I tried to jerk out of his grip, but he held me more firmly.

“This pink biscuit costs more than your suit,” I blurted out. It was the first thing that came to my anxious mind.

He laughed. He had a terrible laugh. And way too much gel for something that wasn’t an ultrasound stick.

“Let go of my arm.” My voice trembled, and so did the muscles around my eyes as I began blinking excessively.

“Not before you give me your number, funny girl.”

My breath hitched, and I was about to do something I’d seriously regret, like toss his red wine in his face, when a growl came from behind me.

“I strongly recommend you remove your hand from my girlfriend’s arm unless you want to play scavenger hunt finding your own fucking fingers on the floor.”

Row.

My panic turned to hysteria. Because Row was the same person who’d rearranged Kieran’s face for giving me the coldest, friendliest peck in front of him.

Also: Girlfriend?

Girlfriend?

The man released me like I was made out of fire, sitting back and smoothing his shirt down. “Hey, Casablancas! I know you from TV.”

But Row was not in the mood for a picture and an autograph. In fact, as soon as the man flicked his gaze up to meet his, Row bunched the collar of his shirt in his fist and shoved him backward. His chair dangled on its two back legs, with only Row to keep him from falling. My boyfriend shoved his face in the businessman’s and growled, “Apologize right fucking now.”

The man’s eyes were as wide as saucers, and a sheen of sweat covered his entire face. “Sorry, man, sorry!” He raised his palms up. “I had no idea she was your girlfriend. I thought she was just a waitress.”

“And that made it okay?” Row stared at him incredulously.

“No!” the businessman shrieked, high-pitched. “I was just messing around.”

Row’s fingers tightened around his collar, and I had a feeling he wasn’t in complete control over himself.

“Man, please let him go,” the other guy said. “We’re just two lowly paralegals. Came here for you, actually. We work for Tate Blackthorn.”

“Don’t care if you work for the pope.” Row let go of the businessman, who fell to the floor, letting out a small screech. “Get the hell out of here.” He turned to me, putting his hand on my shoulder. “You okay, Dot?”

I nodded, flushed and grateful and still a little distraught. “They work for the guy who is buying the land from you?”

“Apparently. But I don’t know them.” He raked his hands over my face and hair, as if taking inventory. They were shaking a little, but so was I. What were we doing, pretending like this could end in anything but heartbreak?

“Row, I’m okay. Rude customers are nothing new to me.” I laced my arms around his neck, itching to kiss him but reminding myself that this was just a fling.

“You have to change jobs,” he concluded.

I laughed. He didn’t, his nostrils flaring ruefully. Oh. He was serious. “I’m not changing jobs.”

“Why not?”

“The tips are great.”

“Become a stripper. The tips will be better.”

“How will becoming a stripper be better?” My eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets.

“I’ll be your only client. The pole will be in my room.”

A giggle ripped from my throat. “Be serious!”

“I am serious. I’ll throw in great dental insurance. At least think about it.”

Rhy materialized behind us. “Taking the trash out. Be right back.” He put one hand on each of the men’s shoulders, escorting them through the door. He had seven inches and a hundred pounds minimum on each of them, and looked like a bodybuilder picking up his toddlers from school.

“So…” I bit down on my lip.

He raised his eyebrows.

“You called me your girlfriend.”

“Right.” His sharp cheekbones stained pink, and he dipped his head to hide his embarrassment. “Wanted to scare them off. Did I do the same to you?”

“I’m not scared,” I lied. I was petrified. And not just because of the word but also because of how I’d felt when he’d said it. Like he’d put a crown on my head.

“Yeah?” His face softened.

“Yeah. In fact, I’m the opposite of scared. What would that be?”

“Brave.”

I swiped my tongue over my lower lip. “Sounds about right. I’m feeling pretty brave recently.” With you around. “But…Row?”

“Yes, Dot?”

“I wasn’t in your plans.”

“Plans change.”

“People don’t, though.”

“I don’t know about that. I think the good ones do. It’s called growth.”

He drew a ragged breath and opened his mouth, about to say something more, then clamped it shut, like he’d thought better of it. “I have a call with Blackthorn after service ends. Wait up? I’ll make you dinner and we can stay at the inn.”

“Deal.”