“Shit,” I mumble under my breath, kneeling down on to the cold laminate floor of the restaurant I’m currently working at. I always thought my brother, Luke, was full of crap when he made fun of my clumsiness, but apparently he was more on target than I gave him credit for.

I’ve been working at Tumblers for four months and have spilled things more times than I can count. I’m pretty sure the only reason I haven’t been fired yet is because said brother is friends with my manager, Scott, or Scotty Boy, as I like to call him.

That being said, I’m wondering if he should just put me out of my misery and fire my clumsy ass. But if he does that, I’ll be royally screwed unless I can find another job…and fast. One that isn’t in the restaurant industry, obviously. And if the past six months have taught me anything, it’s that jobs are freaking hard to come by!

Let me rephrase that: Jobs in my graduating profession, when you don’t have previous experience, are hard to come by.

I graduated about six months ago with a Human Resources degree, which is fan-freaking-tastic, but have had no luck finding a job. They all want previous experience, which is impossible to have if no one will hire you in the first place! It’s one of those, what came first, the chicken or the egg scenarios. I need the experience to get a job, but I need a job to get the experience.

Hence, my current kneeling position, cleaning up nachos with diet coke splashed all over my white blouse.

Well, it was white.

I’m sure I’ll be laughing about this tomorrow, but right now I just want to punch the asshole who bumped into me, causing me to spill nachos all over myself and the stranger in booth 14.

“I am so sorry!” I apologize, scraping melted cheese off a pair of expensive-looking black loafers. I’m currently scrambling underneath the table, practically giving the guy a shoe shine, and feeling a bit too guilty to stand up and face the victim whose shoes I just ruined.

Well, I didn’t ruin them. But I’m going to have to take the fall for it anyway.

Dammit. I’m totally losing my job. At least I have an interview tomorrow, right?

I attempt to clean the mess with my dirty rag and hear chuckling near my bent position on the floor.

Looking up, I’m met with a pair of gorgeous icy blue eyes glinting at my compromising position, his smug face mere inches from my own.

He’s laughing at me!

I feel a blush creep into my cheeks before clearing my throat and crawling out from underneath the table.

I clench my fists at my sides, about to defend my clumsiness even though it wasn’t really my fault, when the stranger in front of me lifts his hands in mock surrender, his eyebrows practically reaching his hairline.

Apparently, he’s good at reading body language. Or maybe he can feel the anger radiating off me in waves. Regardless, I can feel his eyes scanning me from head to toe, taking in my dark curly hair piled on top of my head, along with my still-soaked white blouse and black pencil skirt that likes to hug my curvy hips.

I’m an absolute mess, and I don’t exactly appreciate him making that assessment.

Taking in a deep breath through my nose, I remind myself that he is not the enemy. The jackass who bumped into me is, and if I want to keep my job then I need to play nice with the customers.

Even the condescending ones.

I refuse to acknowledge that Nacho Guy is ridiculously handsome and absolutely huge. He reminds me of a Viking warrior with a broad chest, tapered waist, and muscular thighs that also seem to be covered in ground beef and tortilla chips.

Oops.

I bite my lip. I’m feeling a little guilty as I assess the damage of the poor guy’s stained pants before making my way back to his face and taking in his crystal blue eyes once more, along with messy blonde hair, stubble covered cheeks, and lickable tan skin.

I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling my cheeks heat all over again.

Lickable, Breezy? Really?

I peek one eye open and find myself staring at Nacho Guy’s frosty eyes for a third time, a smirk plastered on his stupidly handsome face. And I just spotted a dimple in his left cheek.

Dammit!

I’m a sucker for dimples.

I swallow my pride; it’s bitter taste lingering in my dry mouth. “I’m sorry about your pants and shoes.” I motion awkwardly toward his lower half, causing Nacho Guy to look down at his soiled clothes.

His deep chuckle makes another appearance before he shrugs his broad shoulders and reaches forward to shake my hand. “Not the first time I’ve been covered with cheese. Won’t be the last. I’m Derrick.”

I place my hand in his warm palm; it’s heat causing my insides to melt just like the cheddar on his pants. He shakes my hand once before releasing it. “Not the first time?” I tease, placing my hands on my hips with my eyebrows raised. “Do you often make a habit of spilling food in your lap?”

He laughs again, shaking his head back and forth before replying. His voice is a bit of a gruff baritone that causes me to shiver slightly. “Technically, I’m not the one that spilled the cheese,” he looks at my nametag, “Rylee. But yes, my nieces and nephew have made a mess of my clothes a time or two.”

I’m confused as to why he called me the wrong name then peek at my nametag. It does, in fact, read “Rylee.” I must have grabbed the wrong one in the breakroom, but I decide not to correct Nacho Guy. I mean Derrick. My lack of attention to detail might have just saved my job. A mischievous smirk graces my lips before I quickly hide it behind my hand, faking a light cough.

“Ah, yes. Those blasted nieces and nephews. How dare your siblings procreate!” I flirt, shaking my fist in the air in frustration and causing his deep chuckle to reverberate.

“They’re the worst!” Derrick agrees passionately, though I can tell he’s teasing. “Do you have any nieces or nephews?”

I hesitate before answering. I’m wondering if I should answer as fake Rylee, or real Bree, when I finally decide to give him an honest answer.

“Yeah, actually. My brother had a baby boy a little while ago. I think he’s like six months or so? Technically, it’s not his baby, but it’s complicated. Either way, he’s my adopted nephew, and is the absolute cutest thing on the planet. And you’re right about the messes during dinnertime. That kid’s a disaster!” I smirk in Derrick’s direction.

“I don’t even mind cleaning up after meals. The worst part is that as soon as they start eating real food, their poop starts to reek!” he laughs.

My nose wrinkles at his apt description, knowing he’s not wrong. Last time I babysat Leo, I debated on searching for a gas mask or just hosing him off in the backyard. The smell was that bad.

“Yeah, I don’t envy whoever’s on diaper duty in their household,” I joke, noticing a couple at a nearby table trying to grab my attention.

Rylee is definitely going to get fired by the end of the night if I don’t get my butt in gear.

“Well, let me bring you an appetizer or something for your trouble. I’m really sorry about the mess.” I start to make my way to the other table, but Derrick’s gruff voice stops me.

“Don’t worry about it Rylee. I don’t think I’d mind cleaning up your messes.” I glance over my shoulder at his offhand comment, surprised to see his baby blue eyes still fixed on me, and a flirtatious grin plastered on his kissable lips as he continues to ignore the other two gentlemen at his table.

I quirk my eyebrow and give him my signature smirk before turning toward the other table, effectively ending our conversation. Even so, it stays on constant replay through my mind for the rest of the night.