Worth More Than Money (Worth It 3)
His face was a mask and his eyes fell to my breasts. I knew I looked ridiculous, with soapy hot water forcing my shirt to cling to my body. I wrapped my arms around my chest, glaring at him as his eyes rose to meet mine. Then I stepped up to the plate and angled my face so I didn’t once unhook my eyes from his.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I asked.
I watched him frown, probably at the tone of my voice.
“I’ve come here for you,” Gray said. “No other reason I’d set foot in a town like this.”
“And here I thought our drink specials had brought in another faithful patron.”
His haughty tone made me sick.
“If you’ve come to talk, I’m too busy working. And I don’t have time for your critique of my life here in Middle America. So if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got work to do.”
His face tightened and I expected him to move, but he didn’t. He didn’t respond. He didn’t speak. And he didn’t move out of my way. The silence made me feel uncomfortable, and when he took a step towards me I stepped back. My ass hit the edge of the metal sink, preventing me from going anywhere else.
“What?” I asked him. “Aren’t you going to move?”
“Sorry. I just didn’t expect the mother of my child to be a sloppy waitress at some road house in the middle of nowhere.”
My jaw dropped so low it nearly hit the floor. Who the hell did this asshole think he was? I pressed my hands into his chest and shoved him away from me, and the shock that rolled through his system shone on his face. I took a step and shoved him again. I shoved and I shoved until he stumbled out through the door. Trey whipped his head around and furrowed his brow, registering the anger on my face.
“Patrons aren’t allowed back there,” Trey said.
“Back off and mind your own business, Gray,” I said. “And if you don’t leave me alone, I’ll have management toss you out on your ass.”
“Michelle, is this man bothering you?” Trey asked.
“He sure as hell is. Cornered me against the sink and wouldn’t stop staring at my tits.”
Trey stepped in front of me and I watched Gray turn his anger onto him. Good. Now I could change my damn shirt. I walked into the backroom while Trey accosted Gray of his own volition while I rummaged around in one of the dusty boxes. Trey kept a lot of the logo’d shirts on the premises in case any of the waitresses got theirs too messy or wet. I dug through the box until I found one my size, then worked my way to the small bathroom to change.
My hands shook as I peeled the wet shirt from my body and replaced it with the dry one.
What in the world was Grayson thinking, showing up in Williston like that? And how had he found me? I knew I shouldn’t have confided in that ticket master on where I was going. I should’ve gotten a bus ticket to a neighboring town, then taken a cab back home. So now I was paying the price for my convenience. I used my wet shirt to wipe at the shoddy mirror in the bathroom, then tried fixing myself up a little bit. I revamped the bun on top of my head and brought a few tendrils of hair to wisp around my features. I fixed up my eyeliner and pulled my lip gloss out to paint a little more on.
The only thing I could do was get back out there.
“Michelle? You in there?”
Trey knocked on the door before I swung it open.
“Sorry. Had to change my shirt,” I said.
“I talked to the man. He ordered shots for the entire room, and that seemed to settle the guys down. He’s back at your table, though.”
“You didn’t kick him out?”
“He said if you served him, there’d be a good tip in it for you. I made sure he was talking about money and not something else, so I told him if he wanted to stay, he had to tip you now.”
Trey held out a wad of cash that made my eyes widen.
“What is this?” I asked.
“All he said was it’s your tip for tonight plus the money he owes you. Do you know him?”
I looked down at the money and snickered. He was paying me for the work I did with him at Anton’s house. Getting it ready for showing.
Holy hell. How had that showing gone? Did Gray sell Anton’s house? A blanket of sadness settled over me at the thought.