“Unless, of course, you want to work it off with me tonight,” Stefano drawled, still staring at me.
I resisted the urge to stick out my tongue at him. “Good luck with that. I’ll get your order in.”
I pivoted and hurried to the bar, ignoring his low laughter.
“Just another customer,” I muttered. “Just another customer.” I had to be polite and serve them. That was my job. And it wasn’t the other men’s fault that Stefano got under my skin. I would ignore him and direct my inquiries to them. What was the expression Charly used yesterday that had made me smile?
Right. Easy peasy.
I would ignore Stefano.
I put a rush on their food, hoping they would eat and leave quickly.
But I should have known better.
They devoured the food, getting a second plate of nachos. Chase had another beer, but Stefano now sipped tonic water while Brett had a Coke. And they lingered.
I felt Stefano’s eyes on me the entire time. After eating, they moved to the back of the bar and shot some pool. I could hear their laughter, somehow pinpointing Stefano’s low guffaw easily and knowing exactly where he was at any moment, no matter how busy I was serving drinks or clearing tables. Eventually, they returned to their table, and I got them more drinks. I helped out Gus in the kitchen for a short time, and when I returned, the table was empty, the check sitting on the scarred wood with a signed credit card slip and a pile of cash.
I was shocked at the flash of disappointment I felt that Stefano had left and not said goodbye. I lifted the money, my eyes widening at the generous tip. The bill was signed by Brett, and I wondered if it was he or Stefano who left the extravagant addition. I was distracted from my thoughts by the sound of Stefano’s laughter, and I snapped up my head, seeing him by the pool table, casually leaning on a cue stick, looking far too sexy for my peace of mind. Lara, the other waitress, was standing in front of him, chatting. She was close to him. Too close. I heard her high-pitched laughter and watched as she twirled a lock of hair around her finger while she flirted with Stefano.
I was across the bar in an instant, my feet carrying me before I even realized what was happening. “My customer, Lara. If he needs anything, I can get it.”
She glanced at me. “I cashed them out for you.”
“Thanks. I got it from here.”
She frowned. “I started a new ticket.”
“I’ll make sure you’re looked after,” Stefano interrupted smoothly. “Gabby and I are old friends.”
Lara pouted. “I can be your friend too.”
He smiled, and jealousy tore through me. “Always happy to make a new friend, but I think Gabby’s got me covered.” He glanced at me. “Right?”
“Yes.”
Lara flounced away, and Stefano tilted his head. “Well, that was interesting.”
Sanity returned, and I was shocked at my behavior. Why did I care if Lara served him? Why on earth had I stomped over and acted like some jealous, jilted lover? I liked Lara, and we got along well. What was I thinking?
What the hell was this man doing to me?
I met his amused eyes and straightened my shoulders.
I held out the stack of money. “You left too much.”
He eyed the cash and shrugged. “It was Chase’s turn to tip. I had nothing to do with it.”
“Give him some back.”
He held up his hands, shaking his head. “Nope. You treated us well, and he likes to show his appreciation. We all do. We understand how hard it is to work in the service industry. You don’t want to insult him, do you?”
I couldn’t shake the feeling he had more to do with it than he was admitting. But I wasn’t going to argue. I shoved the money into my apron pocket. “Tell him I said thank you.”
Suddenly, Stefano was right in front of me, too close for me to ignore. The scary part was that I wasn’t sure I wanted to ignore him. “Now can we get back to your little jealousy fit?”
I felt the heat in my cheeks, but I refused to admit anything to him. “You were my ticket.”
He laughed low and deep in his chest, reaching out to tuck a stray curl behind my ear. “Sure, Gabby. Your ticket.”
He leaned closer. “I’ll be your ticket to anything you want. You just have to ask.”
I wanted to push him away. To snap at him. But he smelled so good and he was such a warm pillar of strength in front of me, I couldn’t seem to find it in me to do either.
“Tell me something. Is Gabby your name or your nickname?”
“Gabriella,” I replied. “Gabby is easier.”
“Hmm. Gabriella. It suits you.” His scent washed over me as he inched closer. “I like it.”