Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 42332 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 212(@200wpm)___ 169(@250wpm)___ 141(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 42332 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 212(@200wpm)___ 169(@250wpm)___ 141(@300wpm)
“He’s not…I don’t—” I groaned and covered my face for a second, my cheeks going hot so fast it was embarrassing. “You can’t blame me for hoping he shows up again, but he’s not my boyfriend. I barely know the guy. He’s only come in…um…a few times.”
“As if you don’t know exactly how many nights in a row he’s come in here to see you.” Susan snorted as she filled a coffee carafe. “And when he shows up again soon, it’s not going to be because of the burgers.”
I pretended to be very interested in rearranging the salt shakers. I hoped she was right because each time Kevlar walked through that door, my body reacted before my brain caught up. My breath would catch in my throat, and a warm flush would spread across my skin.
“Can you really blame me?” I finally asked.
Susan wagged her brows. “Not even a little bit.”
I wasn’t surprised she agreed. My coworker was about twenty years older than me, which actually put her closer to his age than I was. He looked mid-thirties, and she’d mentioned turning forty soon. And he was undeniably hot.
Six-foot-five and broad everywhere, with a chest and shoulders that strained the seams of his shirts. His arms were thick with muscle and inked in black, with full sleeves of tattoos on both.
His brown hair was kept short, and his jaw was clean-shaven. And his midnight-blue eyes were always scanning, like he was aware of anything in the diner that could be a possible threat. Which was probably true since he was a Hound.
His leather vest was impossible to miss. Growing up in Riverstone, I’d seen plenty of members of their club around town over the years. But Kevlar hadn’t been one of them. I definitely wouldn’t have forgotten him.
Intense didn’t even begin to cover Kevlar. Just like my reaction to him, something I’d never experienced before.
The bell over the door chimed again, and my breath caught before I even turned.
Kevlar stepped inside, and his gaze skimmed the room before landing on me and making my pulse skip. Then he strode straight over to the same booth in my section he’d sat at each time he’d come in.
I grabbed a menu even though he never needed one and headed over, hoping my cheeks weren’t as pink as they felt. “Hey. Your usual?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
That low rumble of his sent a warm shiver down my spine, making my voice shake a little when I replied, “Coming right up.”
I felt his gaze track me as I walked back to the pass-through window. Instead of unsettling me, it made me feel strangely protected.
But every time his eyes met mine, I felt a flush climb my neck again. I kept telling myself it was because he was intimidating. Anyone would react to a man built like that who paid them any kind of attention.
The truth was more complicated than that. Because I liked it too much. Especially when he glared at any guy who tried talking to me about anything other than their order. Butterflies fluttered low in my belly every time.
Not that I’d ever admit that to anyone other than myself.
When I brought Kevlar his coffee, his gaze met mine again, and I stumbled over my words. “I’ll…um…be back with…um…your food soon.”
His chin tipped up, and his firm lips quirked at the edges.
As I walked away, that restless feeling I’d had all morning eased for the first time today. When Kevlar was here, I felt safer.
The rest of the shift slipped into its usual easy rhythm. Even after the dinner rush ended, Kevlar was still in his booth. It meant I technically had one fewer table available during the busy part of the evening, but I didn’t mind. Not if he was the one sitting in it.
I kept stealing glances at him whenever I passed by. Quick looks I pretended were accidental, even though we both knew they weren’t.
A little while later, a man slid into the booth behind him.
“Hey there.” He flashed me a smile when I came over with a coffee pot. “Could I get a cup?”
“Of course.”
I poured it for him and took his order. When his food was ready, I brought it over, balancing the plate carefully.
I’d barely set it down before he asked, “You always work this late? Is it usually this slow like tonight?”
Kevlar stilled, his shoulders tightening just slightly. After watching him so closely these past five days, I was probably the only person who noticed he was listening.
If I didn’t finish the conversation quickly, I figured he’d start glaring at the guy next. So I just shrugged and murmured, “I’m here whenever I’m needed. But it’s nice to be able to have time to actually talk to my customers rather than rushing from table to table.”
He laughed. “Does working nights make you nervous? Or are you used to it by now?”