Her body seemed to come alive in his presence. Her nerves hummed and her muscles relaxed. “I thought about you, too.”
His head tilted to the side and she took note of his hair, the dark hues threaded with softer tones making a sandy brown mix of sun kissed highlights. He wore it tied back at the base of his neck, but a shorter piece fell in front of his ear, curving just beside the full pillow of his lower lip.
She inhaled sharply, wanting to climb onto his lap and drag her tongue across those lips. He cleared his throat and she blinked, dragging her stare back to his eyes.
Awareness set in and her eyes widened. Her panties were drenched, and her heart raced. What the hell was she doing?
She slid out of the booth and reached into her back pocket. “I can’t accept this, Adam.” She returned his previous tip to the table, sliding the folded bill in front of him. “It’s too much.”
“You remember my name.”
He appeared pleased, but made no move to take the money. “I’m a good waitress.”
“Then you deserve a good tip.” His gaze angled toward the untouched bill.
“A good tip’s twenty percent. You had a couple beers. Two dollars would have been too much.”
“But you would have accepted two dollars, had that been what I left.”
“Well, yeah.”
“Then you’ll accept this.” He slid the bill back to her with the press of a finger and she caught his hand.
“Adam...” A thousand volts of electricity raced up her arm and she gasped. Her protests dried up in her throat.
His touch awakened something familiar, something she recognized but couldn’t name. It felt as if she were looking in a mirror, seeing her own reflection in his eyes, but that didn’t make any sense. “Have we met before?”
“Only recently.”
“I feel like I know you.” It seemed as if her soul recognized his. She couldn’t explain it. Sort of like déjà vu.
“Spend the money on something that makes you happy, Annalise.”
School loans, rent, the broken taillight on the Steaming Turd—none of that stuff made her happy but they could all use a little money thrown their way. “I can’t.”
He lifted her hand and pressed the folded bill into her palm. “The money’s yours, ainsicht. I gave it to you.”
She blinked, her gaze lowering to where he held her hand. “Okay.”
“Put it in your pocket.”
Her brow tightened as she moved to tuck the hundred dollars away. It disappeared within the fold of her apron.
“Good girl.”
Her body was yoga class relaxed as if she’d just chased a one-hour massage with a bottle of muscle relaxers. She smelled fresh-cut grass and could almost feel the sunshine pressing into her skin, but she was inside a smoky bar and it was nighttime outside.
“I would enjoy a beverage.”
“Hmm?” Her lashes lowered and she smiled. That voice.
His soft chuckle made her want to do the same. “Are you finished work?”
“Work?” She frowned and shook her head. Jesus. Work. She jerked her gaze to the floor. What the hell was she doing? Did someone slip something in her drink? “Um, yeah. I’ll, uh, be right back with a beer.”
“Take your time.”
Spinning away from his table, the music of the jukebox mingling with the chatter of the crowd reintroduced itself to her ears with a deafening awareness that seemed to blot out whatever just happened.
Her mind fell into simple, achievable objectives. Get beer. Check on other customers. Serve drinks. Announce when the kitchen is closing. Wait until last call. Housekeeping. Home. She didn’t want to think beyond those simple tasks, because she was afraid of what she might find in her thoughts. Specifically, the idea that it might be okay to go home with a total stranger.
That’s never true, by the way.
Chapter Thirteen
After the dinner rush passed, Annalise tidied the waitress station. Sarah, the weekend backup, arrived just in time for the lull.
“Hey, Anna. Who’s the hot guy at table one?”
Sarah was a friend, a nice girl, and a few years older than Anna. She was also a hell of a lot more experienced. “He’s no one. Just a customer.” A sharp, territorial pang knifed through her and she frowned, unsure where such unwarranted possessiveness stemmed from. That guy was just another customer.
“Oh, well, if you want, I can go check on him.”
CCR’s Have You Ever Seen the Rain pumped from the jukebox. Annalise’s gaze locked on the Heinz 57 label of the ketchup bottle as she slowly wiped it down. “Sure.” Her jaw locked as she grabbed the next bottle.
Last year Sarah took a few weeks off and came back with new boobs. She was the sort of girl who chose vanity over practicality. Her hair always flowed in perfect waves and her nails were the fake kind they put on at salons. The men loved her.
“Great.” She giggled and grabbed her tray.