Going home with her new car had felt liberating.

Callie felt like she’d turned a new page, and even though she was still mad as hell at Brundar, she no longer felt like crying.

Keeping busy as heck had helped.

Between the doctor’s appointment and the car buying, yesterday had been a full day. She had barely had enough time to grab a bite to eat and put on her club T-shirt before driving to work.

Brundar, the coward, hadn’t shown up at all.

He hadn’t called or texted either.

Whatever.

She was moving on.

Today, she was going to find a new job.

A list of steakhouses in hand, Callie stopped next to the first one. It wasn’t that she had an overwhelming love of steaks, but the tips were better the higher the tickets, which they were in most steakhouses. The other requirement was a full bar. Besides the quality of meat, it was the most crucial factor in a steakhouse’s success.

“Hi, can I speak to the manager? I’m looking for a waitressing job.” She smiled sweetly at the host. The guy was about her age, but he was still a kid while she was not. Hadn’t been for a long time.

The guy smiled back, his expression all about trying to look cool and flirt with her. “I’ll get him for you. I don’t think we need anyone, but I hope he hires you anyway.” He winked.

God, it was good to feel young and free again. A cute guy was flirting with her, and it felt great even though she wasn’t interested.

A few moments later, he came back with a man who she presumed was the owner and not just a manager. The guy was in his late fifties, balding, and with the belly of someone who loved to eat. Managers were usually much younger.

He offered his hand. “Damian Gonzales.”

“Heather Wilson.” She shook what he offered.

He motioned for her to follow him into his tiny office. “Do you have any experience as a waitress, Heather?”

“Plenty. I worked at a steakhouse for over a year.”

“Which one?”

Damn it. She couldn’t use Aussie as a reference. She would have to lie.

“It was in Alabama.”

He eyed her suspiciously, probably noting the blush that had crept up her cheeks. She was a terrible liar.

“Would they give you references?”

Crap.

Callie locked stares with the owner, then decided to go for the truth. “I really worked in a steakhouse, and I’m a damn good waitress. But if you called and asked for references they wouldn’t know who you’re talking about. I just got divorced, and my ex is a dangerous man. For my protection, I’ve been given a new identity.”

Damian still looked skeptical. “Why should I believe you?”

“Because it’s the truth. Give me one shift, and I’ll prove it to you. I’m good under pressure; I don’t panic when I have to cover two stations at once because someone didn’t show up for their shift, and I can charm even the shittiest of customers. You will never hear any complaints about me.”

Damian chuckled. “Of that, I have no doubt. A pretty girl like you can get away with murder. You’re lucky to show up when you did. One of the girls just called in sick. I’ll give you her shift, and we will take it from there.”

“What, like now?”

The owner lifted a brow. “Do you have a problem with that?”

“No, not at all. But I need to be at my other job by seven.”

He nodded. “Do you intend to work two jobs?”

“Not for long. I’ll quit the nightclub when I have another full-time job.”

“What do you do there?” He gave her a once-over as if suspecting she was a pole dancer or something.

“I serve drinks. The tips are good, but the noise is not. I want to quit before my hearing gets damaged.” It was partially true. The other part about a jerky boyfriend who wasn’t a boyfriend was none of Damien’s business.

“I’ll tell you what. I’ll test you. And if by six you prove you’re as good as you claim to be, I’ll hire you. How long of a notice do you need to give the other place?”

“A week or two should do it.”

Franco didn’t really need her, and the other servers would be happy to pick up more hours.

The owner rose to his feet and turned to the shelving unit behind him. Pulling out a T-shirt and an apron from a neatly folded stack, he handed them to her. “You can change in the ladies room. Tyler, that’s the host, will show you Brenda’s tables—the waitress you are covering for. Grab a menu and learn it by heart. It should be a breeze for you after working in a steakhouse for a year. We serve every cocktail imaginable and carry all the major brands. The drinks menu is three times the size of the food menu, but if a customer asks for something, we most likely have it. Just write it down, and the bartender will take care of it.”

Callie tucked the garments the owner had handed her under her arm and offered him her hand. “Thank you for giving me a chance. You’re not going to regret it.”

He took her hand, covering it with his other one, but it wasn’t a come-on gesture, more like fatherly. “I hope everything works out for you, Heather. It’s a shame a young woman like you has to run and hide from some abusive asshole. If you’re half as good as you say you are, you got the job.”