I knew my new job would have its downsides.
Downsides like dealing with angry customers, putting up with Ania’s mood swings, and watching my coworkers get prioritized just because they’ve been working there longer.
What I didn’t expect was my boss putting me on deliveries during one of the busiest weeks of the summer.
Today marks the start of Hillford’s annual sailing races. Around five hundred people are expected to visit from out of state, which usually earns Sandy’s a massive influx of customers.
The problem? Our delivery guy is down with the flu, which means, as the new girl, it’s on me to pick up the slack and miss out on some great tips.
I wasn’t in a position to complain since all waitresses have filled in at least once, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the small fortune Jamie and Ania are going to be taking home when this is over.
I’m on my fifth delivery of the hour when I make it back to the restaurant. Sure enough, we were hit with a bunch more orders while I was gone, and I’m back in the company car in a flash.
I take the time to check the addresses on the takeout bags and boxes in my passenger seat before igniting the engine. The address on the pizza at the bottom of the pile makes my stomach sink like a rock.
This order is going to the beach house.
And it’s under Scar’s name.
He got the extra-large Italian Delight, one of our most popular pizzas, but without the anchovies. That simple detail tells me he’s not just ordering for himself.
Kane hates anchovies.
Coincidence? I think the hell not.
I’m guessing the order is under Scar’s name because Kane couldn’t use his own. Can’t risk people knowing he’s in town over pizza.
Shit, I hope Scar is the one who opens the door.
I haven’t seen Kane since I walked into the sunroom and saw he’d raided the art store and gotten me more supplies than I could ever need. I also haven’t spoken to him since we got way too close in the kitchen.
I wasn’t sure what to say when Mom and Drea asked about the fire alarm going off at breakfast the next day. It wasn’t even on for a full minute, leaving everyone in the house to wonder if they’d imagined it.
Kane was in the gym that morning, so it was up to me to make up a story. I wound up telling them that I was starving and exhausted, which resulted in me nodding off mid-cooking and almost burning the house down.
I kick the gear into reverse and pull out of Sandy’s parking lot. I got this job precisely to avoid Kane.
Pretty ironic that my job is forcing me to see him now.
My heart in my throat, I jog up the stairs leading to the beach house. I’ve been driving around Hillford for over an hour, fulfilling every order before this one.
Fred texted my phone to tell me Scar had called the restaurant to ask what was taking so long, and while I’m sure my boss told him we were completely swamped, that didn’t stop him from telling me to step on it.
I ring the doorbell and wait.
Three minutes go by with no answer.
Should I just go in? Something tells me I might be waiting a while if I don’t.
I know my mom and Evie are having dinner with Vince’s parents tonight, Drea has back-to-back meetings with “industry people”—at least, I think that’s who she’s meeting with; she didn’t specify—and the boys are most likely in their man cave.
Fuck it, I’m going in.
It’ll give me a chance to pee. We’re definitely going to have ten more to-go orders by the time I get back to the restaurant, and my tiny bladder won’t make it another hour and a half.
I enter the combination on the electronic keypad and push the door open. I amble to the kitchen and scan the common areas.
Not a soul in sight.
I drop the pizza onto the countertop and race to the downstairs bathroom. I walk out shortly after, needing to find Scar so he can pay for his food.
“Nice uniform.” A deep voice startles me.
I swivel to find Kane leaning against the kitchen counter with wet hair, no shirt, and his well-defined arms folded over his chest.
He’s wearing a bathing suit, and he’s dripping wet, water running down his tattooed body. I take it he and Scar were in the pool, and that’s why they didn’t hear the doorbell.
A devilish grin curls the corners of his mouth when we make eye contact.
There’s no way he meant that, but I still go with it, cracking a small smile. “I know, right? It looks like a flamingo puked all over me.”
He laughs and pushes off the counter, cutting across the room to meet me. “How much do I owe you?”
He stops a hair too close to me, not giving a flying shit about the puddle gathering at his feet.
“Hold on.” I grab the pizza off the counter and double-check the price before telling him the total.
He nods, grabbing his wallet off the counter, and comes back with a hundred-dollar bill before handing it to me.
“I’m all out of change. Would you mind using a card? We can do Apple Pay or—”
“That’s your tip.”
I blink at him.
“That’s like a seventy-dollar tip.”
He shrugs. “And?”
I should just say yes, take his money to make up for all the tips I’m missing out on, but the thought of it doesn’t sit right with me.
“I’m good. I owe you enough as it is.”
He raises a brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Is he serious?
“The art supplies?” I remind him. “It’ll take me weeks to pay you back for everything you bought.”
Realization flashes in his eyes. “I don’t want you to pay me back. It was a gift.”
I’m about to argue when he invades my space, dipping his hand into my front jeans pocket and pushing the hundred-dollar bill inside, diffusing warmth through my entire body.
I’m wasting my time, aren’t I?
He’s not going to let me leave without that tip.
But that doesn’t mean I’m going to accept those supplies.
“I don’t need your pity gifts,” I spit.
He looks at me like I’m bonkers. “Are you fucking with me? You’re actually mad right now?”
“I’m not mad, I’m just… I hate owing people.”
He inches forward. “You don’t owe me shit. Consider it my contribution to starting your business.”
“I never asked you to contribute,” I fire back.
“So? I want to do it. I was even thinking of giving you a shout-out on social media once your store goes live. You know, just to get the ball rolling.”
“Absolutely not!” I protest.
“Why not? There’s nothing wrong with letting a friend help you out.”
A friend?
Did he just call himself my friend?
A bitter laugh escapes me. “It seems we have some wires crossed here, so let me clear things up.” I fill the space between us, craning my neck to get a good look at him. “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression that night in the sunroom, but you and I? We’re not friends. We were friends. But then you left and made it clear you didn’t give two shits about me. You think you can just go around throwing money at me and I’ll forget that you went radio silent on me for five years?”
My outburst seems to irritate him, his jaw clenching as he nods. “Fine. We’re not friends.”
I expect our back-and-forth to stop there, but he shocks me by moving closer, crowding my space and positioning his mouth next to my ear. “But we’re something. Or did you already forget the sounds you were making when you were rubbing your ass all over my cock?”
His words siphon the air out of my lungs.
His breath tickles my earlobe, sharp and hot as it brushes against the side of my neck. “You can hate me, Hads. You can call me selfish and arrogant and every fucking name you can think of, but you don’t get to deny the way your body reacts to me. No fucking way.”
Oh.
My.
God.
“Y-You’re delusional” is all I manage to say.
“Some friendly advice—don’t lie to me. I promise you’re not going to like what I do to get the truth out of you.”
I open my mouth, my brain concocting a scathing response, but he steps back the next second, looping his wet arm around my waist and clutching my body to his.
His wet chest soaks the front of my uniform, but the freezing water isn’t enough to put out the tiny fires igniting on my skin.
“Nothing is ever going to happen between us, you got me?” I spit out defensively, and I’m relieved that my mouth is still operated by my brain. My body surely isn’t. If it were, I’d have pushed him away by now.
He lets out a low, raspy laugh, staring me dead in the eyes as he says, “Fuck, am I going to have the time of my life proving you wrong.”
Another gasp falls from my lips when he slowly drags the backs of his index and middle fingers up the side of my arm.
I’m not sure I like this version of him.
The one who knows what he wants.
Not so long ago, he was acting like getting anywhere near me would be the end of the world. But now? It’s like whatever was holding him back went up in flames when we had that… moment… in the kitchen.
“What happened to the guy who runs out of the room to avoid me?”
His tongue peeks out to wet his bottom lip. “He got tired of running. Now he’s ready to chase.”
Well, fuck.
“Dude, what the hell? Why didn’t you tell me the pizza’s—” Scar’s voice trails off.
I push Kane off me almost violently, as though I’m hoping that the distance between us will erase the closeness we experienced seconds ago.
Too bad the wet spot on my uniform won’t let me forget.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Scar says.
Kane doesn’t even acknowledge him, still staring at me.
I smooth down my shirt nervously. “I have to get back to work.”
I spin to leave, speed walking to the door.
“Oh, and, Hads?” Kane’s voice is like a thick root, emerging from the floorboards and wrapping around my legs.
I stop, glancing back at him.
“I’ll send you the bill. You know, for your pity gift.”
All I can do is stare daggers at him.
I’m about to swing the door open when my phone goes off in my pocket. My first thought is that it must be Fred calling to tell me to get my ass back to the restaurant pronto.
But it’s not.
The person calling me is Cal.
Hesitant, I press Answer and lead the phone to my ear. “Cal?”
Cal’s voice erupts down the line. “Hey, Hadley. Hope I’m not catching you at work.”
Technically, he is, but I’m way too curious to tell him that.
“It’s okay. I have a minute to talk,” I lie.
“So, um… I had fun at Vince’s party. It was great hanging out with you, and I was wondering if maybe… you’d want to do it again. Just the two of us, this time?”
I just know Kane and Scar are hanging on to my every word, but I can’t move a muscle. Maybe because I want them to hear.
Especially Kane.
“Oh, um… like a date?”
I swear I can feel Kane’s gaze boring holes through the back of my head.
Cal doesn’t take my hesitation as a good sign. “Only if you want to. Or if you want, we can invite the others and—”
“No, no, I want to.”
Do I?
I don’t even know at this point.
It couldn’t hurt to put myself out there. Maggie’s been blowing up my phone, asking for updates, and according to the hottie on her Instagram stories, she kept up her end of the deal and is having a hot summer romance as we speak.
“Great. I was thinking maybe we could get dinner.”
“I’d love that. When?”
“How does tomorrow night sound?” he suggests.
“I have to work tomorrow, but I get off at seven. I’d need an hour to shower and get ready after. Is that okay?”
“Absolutely. I’ll pick you up at home whenever you’re ready.”
“Awesome,” I say, fighting the urge to turn around and catch a glimpse of Kane’s reaction.
Is he jealous?
Annoyed?
Indifferent?
I have no idea how I manage to resist looking at his face.
“It’s a date,” Cal jokes.
We exchange goodbyes a few minutes later.
Then I’m out the door.
The next day rolls around in the blink of an eye—might be because I’m still filling in for our delivery guy, and I haven’t had a second to breathe since my shift started.
Ania asked me to close the restaurant for her tonight, and not only did I have the courage to say no, but I actually had a valid reason this time.
I have a date, I told her. She wasn’t too happy about it, but she wound up getting Jamie to cover for her. I check myself in the bathroom mirror one last time before racing down the stairs. Cal should be here any second now.
I’m halfway to the first floor when my phone pings with not one but two messages.
To my surprise, the sender isn’t Cal.
It’s an unknown number.
UNKNOWN NUMBER
Cancel the date.
UNKNOWN NUMBER
I mean it.
