Chapter 28
Nova
The front door of Gallo’s swings open and my heart leaps into my throat. My attention jumps from my customer—a bumbling little boy who can’t be more than five and who is taking an insane amount of pride in ordering for himself—over to the boisterous group of seven entering the restaurant. My eyes scan the gathering and my pulse batters my veins at the possibility that maybe, just maybe he might be in the crowd.
He isn’t. Obviously.
But that’s what happens when you fall hard for someone you have no business messing with in the first place. You start seeing them everywhere. Wishing that they’ll show up. Craving their touch. Even though you know it’s wrong.
God, I’m paying the price for that mistake now.
He planted an idea in my head, implying that he may want to be more than my friend. I said ‘no’ because Charlie and I can’t be more than friends. He wouldn’t know what to do with my heart if I placed it in his hands. So, I’ve decided to play it safe and stay away from him. Too bad sticking to this decision is so hard.
Every night that I’m not in his bed, feeling the pressure of his body crushing me into the mattress feels like a famine. I’m starving for him. I miss the way he kissed me, the way he teased me, the way he looked at me like he might actually mean the words he said. But he’s Charlie—seduction is his currency, flattery is the product he barters in exchange for a night of satisfaction.
I can’t buy in to what he’s selling. I just can’t do that to myself.
“So, you want a Happy Meal with an Oreo milkshake and an Avengers toy, huh?” I smile down at the little boy. He bounces excitedly in his seat, so thrilled to have placed his order.
“Yes! Yes, please!” His little face splits and a mouth full of teeny, tiny teeth grins up at me.
I furrow my brows, exaggerating my disappointment for his benefit. “I’m sorry. We don’t sell Happy Meals here but guess what?”
“What?” he asks around his pout.
“We’ve got pizza. Any kind of pizza you want!”
“Happy Meal pizza?!”
I burst out laughing. “Okay, how does fried chicken pizza sound?”
His eyes go round. “That exists? Fried chicken pizza?”
“In our kitchen, it does.”
The little boy turns to the older woman he’s sitting with. “Can I, grandma?”
“Of course you can, honey.” She laughs, ruffling his hair.
Still wearing a hint of a smile, I recap their order. “So, it will be a vegetarian lasagna, a fried chicken pizza and two orange juices?”
“Yes, yes!” The boy claps his hands together enthusiastically.
I smile. It’s nice to get a little reprieve from the heavy-heartedness I’ve been living these last few days. “Coming right up,” I assure him as I turn toward the kitchen to deliver their request.
As I’m brushing by the booths lining the restaurant’s brick walls, I feel a grip on my arm. It’s soft but firm and I feel a reaction in the pit of my stomach. My shoulders heave, almost in relief, when I see him. “Charlie…”
He looks beautiful. Breathtaking. His jaw is freshly-shaven and he’s just had a haircut. He’s wearing a black suit—the one he wore to my grandmother's wedding—with a white shirt underneath. The first few buttons are undone, showcasing a hint of his strong chest. My tongue darts across my lips when I remember the sweet, salty taste of his skin and the many hours that I spent exploring it with my mouth.
I wanna do it again…
A crooked smile tilts one corner of his lips. He hooks a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of my customers. “Cute kid, huh? Sort of looks like a little Pokemon.”
I laugh through my nose. “What are you doing here?”
And I immediately wish I hadn’t asked the question because the answer is obvious. He’s here to meet a woman.
Fuck. He's on a date.
My knees nearly crumble under the weight of the sucker punch to my heart.
Y'see—this is exactly why I didn't want to get involved with Charlie.
He's a player. The type of guy who can steal your heart, your mind and your panties, all in one fell swoop. And then walk away without a nick, without a scratch. Meanwhile, I’m wrecked. Ruined. Destroyed.
I straighten my shoulders, hold my head up, attempt to appear unaffected.
But the arrogant glint is missing from his eyes tonight. There’s something raw, almost vulnerable in his stare. “I’m here to take you on a date.”
Everything around me screeches to a halt. “What?” My thoughts are swimming in molasses. My comprehension of the English language appears to be failing me.
He rises from his seat, tall and wide, the fabric of his fitted suit barely enough to withstand the strain of the sinewy muscles beneath. “I’m here to plead my case, Nova. I want you. I’ll do whatever it takes. And I want you to see that I’m serious.”
My pulse batters the poor vein in my neck. My stomach is tied up like the cord of a cellphone charger. Because suddenly, I’m the heroine in an Amazon bestselling billionaire romance serial. And this scene feels a lot like the cliffhanger.
I look down at my shaky hands where my waitress pad is clenched in my fingers. “I’m working,” I whisper.
“I’ll wait.” He slides back into his booth and extends his long legs beneath the table, clenching his dark beer bottle with both hands.
“I don’t get off until midnight.”
“That’s fine.”
That waitress that Charlie fucked—the one with the award-winning gag reflex—she passes by and gives me the stink eye. This is a bad idea. “And I have plans afterwards.”
“Then, find a way to include me in those plans.” He leans toward me, his gaze piercing, his jaw set. “Nova, I’m not leaving until you agree to hear me out.”
Realizing that he’s not going to take no for an answer, I swallow in a breath. “Okay. Fine.”
He falls back against the tufted seat with a victorious grin. “Good.”
Three and a half hours has never passed more slowly in my life. But Charlie sits patiently, slowing going through an order of bruschetta and two beers. When my shift ends, I retreat to the changing room and slip into my long-sleeved T-shirt and jeans. I’m so fucking nervous. Too nervous to double-check my tips. Too nervous to worry about the other waitresses and their whispering. Too nervous to swing by the kitchen and grab some leftovers for the night.
A part of me wants to get to Charlie and hear what he has to say. The other part of me wishes I could just run away.
My shaky legs take me out to the parking lot where he’s waiting for me, leaning against the side of his truck. As I stumble out the back door with the garbage bags in my hands, he hustles over and takes them from me. With zero effort, he lifts open the dumpster and flings them inside.
“Thank you.” Bringing my eyes to his was a bad idea. I should have known it would leave me feeling needy and breathless.
He wipes his hands together then shoves them into his pockets. “You’re welcome.” His eyes explore my face and if I weren’t so lost in his rugged masculine beauty, I’d probably have the strength to turn away. “You said you had plans?”
I give him a weak smile. “I do.”
“Care to elaborate.”
Biting down on my lip, I try to insert a certain amount of gravity into my voice as I lift my hands and flip them to face him.
“Gotta paint my nails.”