The Billionaire and the Waitress

She turned her green eyes up at that moment, her stomach doing a little flip. Kneeling next to her was a man in a blue dress shirt and black pants. He had a strong, angular jaw and a neatly trimmed beard. His short brown hair had been styled and combed back with some type of mousse. While his outfit didn’t scream wealth, a shiny silver Rolex around his wrist hinted at his success. Georgia wondered if it was real, or one of those knock-offs people sold outside shady gas stations.

There was something definitely familiar about him. Something that she just couldn’t put her finger on. Brown eyes crinkled with the hint of a smile as he winked at her and handed the sopping wet linen napkin to the hostess behind him.

“I think we’ll take two more glasses of water,” he told her with a smile before she nodded and walked away.

“I’m so sorry,” Georgia spouted, dread entering her face. She slid back into the booth and willed herself not to do anything else embarrassing for the next hour. “I’m a klutz when I’m nervous.”

“It’s okay. No harm done.” His voice was low and calm, his eyes searching her face as he took the opposite seat. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, Sweet Daisy Jane.”

Her lips curled into a tiny smile and she glanced down at her black fingernail polish. “You too, Metal Man. I can’t believe we’re actually doing this.”

“Me, neither.” He cocked his head to one side, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Although I have to admit that I was looking forward to seeing your face. Any chance you might take those sunglasses off now that you’re indoors?”

She’d become so used to hiding that she hadn’t remembered she still had the silly things on. Yanking them off her face, she tucked her curly hair behind her ears and gave him a sheepish smile. “Better?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he stared at her until a warmth flared in her gut and she looked away in embarrassment.

“My name’s Georgia,” she said quietly. “I suppose we can use real names now that we’ve seen each other’s faces.”

“Alaric,” he answered, clearing his throat and finally tearing his gaze away from her.

Panic alarms went off inside of her. She looked up at him with wide eyes, her brain finally putting the pieces together.

“Not, Alaric Hammond?” she asked in a strained voice.

His brow furrowed and he tilted his head to one side with an amused grin. “Yes. How did you know?”

Of course, she should’ve known the first moment they’d met, but she’d been too frazzled by flying ice to make the connection. Alaric Hammond had been two years ahead of her in school and the gol

den boy of their high school. All-star receiver on their state champion football team. Mr. Prom King. And desperately adored by most of the girls in their school, including once upon a time, Georgia herself.

She’d been the complete opposite. A quiet mouse, keeping to her small group of music geeks and playing the bass drum in the pep band during sporting events. A total zero on the popularity scale. Alaric Hammond never would’ve known she was alive.

“We had the same anatomy class,” she said, grimacing. “I sat two rows behind you. You wouldn’t remember me, though.”

He pursed his lips in thought, drumming his fingers on the table. A light lit in his eyes and he smiled. “Of course! Georgia Weber. I remember you.”

She gulped, feeling her throat constrict. At that moment, she could’ve desperately used one of those waters she’d spilled. Alaric Hammond remembered her!

“But didn’t you go by Gigi, then?” he asked, his brow furrowing.

“Yes.” She laughed nervously, her eyes darting across the room. Thankfully, it seemed, no one had heard him. “Some people still call me that.”

“Georgia Weber.” He leaned back in his booth and smiled at her, shaking his head. “All this time, I was talking to you. Who would’ve thought?”

She desperately hoped this new revelation wasn’t a total letdown. She’d come a long way since high school. Better clothes. Better hair. And the ability to actually look people in the eye when they talked to her. All territory that came with becoming a celebrity. Her publicist had forced her to take confidence classes. She didn’t even know that was a thing until she met with her private tutor.

“Are you still driving that black motorcycle around?” she asked, chewing on her tongue. There had been many a time she’d daydreamed of Alaric Hammond whisking her away on that thing. “The one with the loud muffler? I remember how the teachers hated that thing.”

“No, not anymore,” he replied coarsely, leaning back in his seat. Something like pain and anger glinted in his eyes. “I’m not sure where that hunk of metal ended up. These days, I stick to four wheels.”

Georgia wasn’t sure how to respond to his sudden change in tone or stiffened posture. Thankfully, their waitress stopped by, interrupting what could’ve been an awkward moment of silence. They gave her their orders and when she was gone, the pain had disappeared from Alaric’s eyes and he smiled once again across the booth at her.

“I still can’t believe we’re meeting face-to-face.” He swallowed hard and pursed his lips, resting his hands on the table. “I have to admit, I really considered backing out of this date. My friend pushed me into signing up for the app and I wasn’t sure I was ready, but talking with you has helped me through some tough times lately. I had to meet you.”

Georgia felt her breath hitch in her lungs. She leaned forward, her slender fingers fiddling with the silverware next to her napkin. “I feel the same. My life has been so crazy lately, talking with you was the only thing that felt normal. And I was forced to sign up for the app, too, so don’t feel bad.”

Except she’d been forced by her publicist for a business stunt. Not exactly the same, but Alaric didn’t need to know that.