Exposed King (Boys of Brisley 2)

“You’d fuck Rocket over me?!” I yelled, not sparing anyone else in that restaurant a second glance. “He’s a fuckin’ raccoon, Mia!”

She shushed me, a blush spreading across her skin as she leaned in. “He’s not a raccoon. He’s a halfworlder, and little man can work his way into some tight spaces. Don’t judge me.”

“Holy shit,” I whispered, eyes wide. “Okay then, at least I win over the baby tree. I’ll stop asking questions before you do permanent damage to my very fragile ego,” I teased, only half-kidding.

She smiled, a small slender hand reaching over to grip mine. “Maybe don’t stop asking? You don’t seem fragile to me.”

“Ah, fuck.” I squeezed gently, wishing to hell she’d have stayed on her own side as red flags went up all over the place. This was how it started with Destiny. And Isabella. And Raquel. They flirted for tips, I took it too seriously, fell in love and got smashed. “Glad it still comes across like that. Kinda taken a few hits in that department recently, but it’s my own damn fault. Tell me about you, though. You said you’re always busy?”

“I’m always here, and when I’m not here I tutor kids online or I’m dealing with my ridiculously large family.” She took her hand back and checked her phone again, this time sending off a text before she set it down. “Where are you from?”

“Brisley, Colorado. You tutor kids? Like a teacher?” I asked, unable to help myself.

“No. I don’t have time for school so I can’t be a teacher but I tutor kids who struggle with English. It’s for free because I don’t think people should have to pay to learn how to speak to those around them. What do you do in Colorado, Huevos?”

My mind raced as I tried to swallow down the eight hundred things I wanted to ask her or say. “I’m an investment banker and full-time idiot. You’re a good person, Mia Camilla. I think it’s really great that you do that.”

The smile on her face was breathtaking. “Thank you. Full-time idiot though? I told you to stop being stupid last time, Papí. Did you forget already?”

“Guess that’s a lesson I need to learn ... repeatedly,” I said quietly, turning on the charm again whether I meant to or not. “Maybe you’ll have to be more convincing next time, hm?”

“Maybe you will too.” She held my gaze for longer than I expected her to, but the buzzing of her phone pulled her away. “My break’s almost over. Any other questions that don’t involve marriage?”

“Just one.” I chose my words carefully, knowing I’d be back at this diner every damned day until she agreed to dinner. That could wait. “Would you go to school to be a teacher? If you had time, I mean.”

She looked taken aback before she answered. “Yes. I tell myself that I don’t want to be because then I’d be getting paid to do it but that isn’t true. I’d fucking love to be a teacher. To help small minds grow every single day? As my actual career?” She blushed again, pulling back like she didn’t realize how close she got as she spoke. “Sorry, I got carried away.”

“You answered my question. Thank you for spending your break with me, Mia. This was nice. When do you work again?”

“I work when I work, Oliver Bishop. Something tells me I’ll see you again.” She stood, pulling out my check from her back pocket and handing it over. “No $200 tip this time, Papí. That was hard to explain last time. Deon was convinced I sucked you off in the bathroom for it.”

“What the fuck?” I took my card out and handed it to her. “I’m sorry, Mia. That ... holy shit, seriously? As if you couldn’t just earn a good tip for making me laugh when I was having a miserable day?”

“Did you laugh?” She huffed. “You said I was your least favorite person.”

I nodded seriously. “You can be my least favorite person and still be funny. You’re funny. Even when it hurts my feelings, you’re funny. And the fact that you kept up with me and kept me on my toes during that disaster of a breakfast meant you earned a damn good tip. Next time, I’ll slip it under your windshield wipers or something so you don’t have to sh—”

“Camilla!” someone yelled, and the voice seemed to grate her nerves instantly.

“That’s Ed, my boss. I have to go. Take care, keep those huevos happy.” She touched my chin softly with her index finger and walked away, and I sat there for a full ten minutes trying to figure out what to tip her.

If this kept up, it was going to be a problem — because I had every intention of tipping her what she was worth, and the conversation alone was worth more than I carried in cash.

Deon would just have to get over it.