Three Broken Promises (One Week Girlfriend #3)(16)
Author: Monica Murphy

Leaving me alone with my thoughts, my feelings. They swarm me, overwhelm me, and I know there’s no way I can stand out here dealing with all this shit.

So I follow her inside and hide away in my office.

Hide away from Jen.

Chapter 7

Jen

“Don’t I know you?”

Glancing up, I find a man probably in his mid-forties standing before me on the other side of the hostess counter, staring at me.

Hard.

The restaurant is packed. The staff has been scrambling all evening. I should be on my break but instead I’m helping out at the front desk, handling payments, greeting customers in between checking up on my tables when the hostess is off seating others. I do this sort of thing whenever it gets a little crazy, and no one protests. Tonight, though, is extra busy, proof Colin needs to hire more people, and that makes me feel guilty for leaving.

Seeing this man is reminding me why I need to go. I don’t want to know him but I do. He’s a bad memory I don’t want to deal with, especially here.

I smile faintly through my sudden nerves, wishing I could tell him to screw off. I don’t like the way he’s looking at me. He hands over his credit card and his dinner bill, and I automatically take it. “Are you a regular customer at The District?” We have lots of them, though they’re usually younger than this guy. I know he’s not a regular. Not here.

“Not at this place. My wife convinced me to take her here tonight for our wedding anniversary.” He sounds irritated, and I wonder how in the world I got stuck taking his credit card and running it. Wasn’t he Fable’s customer?

“Congratulations,” I offer weakly, guilt assuaging me. Of course he’s married. Weren’t they all? “Did you enjoy your dinner?”

“A little overpriced,” he huffs out, sounding irritated.

I ignore him, tapping my fingers on the screen, waiting for the credit card approval. It doesn’t come fast enough and when the receipt finally prints out, I tear it off and hand it to him, practically shoving a pen into his hand.

“I know I’ve seen you before,” he says, signing his receipt and pushing it and the pen back across the counter toward me. I don’t dare look at him, and he seems to know I’m hiding from him.

“Thanks for coming. Hope you have a good evening,” I say as I give him his copy of the receipt. Chancing a glance at him, I see the way his gaze drops to my chest, raking over my body in an overtly intimate way.

A shiver runs down my spine. Yeah, this is definitely one of the guys who I . . .

“Did you ever work at Gold Diggers?” He’s lowered his voice, leaning toward me over the counter, and I step back, furiously shaking my head.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I start, but I clamp my lips shut when he smiles lecherously, pointing his finger at me.

“You did. I remember you.” The smile grows, and my heart sinks to my toes. “I think you might’ve helped me out after hours one night, too.” He pauses, his eyes lingering on my lips. “No man forgets a mouth like yours.”

Holy. Shit. I can’t believe he just said that. Panic races through my veins and I glance around, looking for an out.

“Ready to go?” A woman approaches, going right to the man’s side, curling her arm around his. Clearly she’s his wife, and I wonder what she might do if she knew I’d taken money from this man in exchange for a blow job.

Because that’s how he knows me and the shame that threatens is so overwhelming, I’m tempted to run. I blanked most of the men out, never paying too much attention to their faces or bodies. Not wanting to know any details, trying to make them seem inhuman. It’s easier that way to pretend they’re not real.

But this guy is real—and so is his wife.

“Yeah, honey.” He sends me a pointed stare, as if I’d blab where I knew him from or something crazy. He shouldn’t worry. I don’t want any trouble. “Thanks,” he says to me gruffly and I nod in answer, surprised by the way the woman glares at me over her shoulder before they leave the restaurant.

Exhaling loudly, I sag against the counter, rubbing my forehead with the tips of my fingers. If what just happened isn’t an indication I need to get out of here and quick, I don’t know what else is. This is the second time in as many weeks that an encounter like this has happened.

Why now? Why all of a sudden are the scumbags who frequented Gold Diggers finding me? I don’t get it. It’s like the universe is trying to tell me something.

“Are you all right?” A warm hand settles on my shoulder and I whirl around, a gasp escaping me at the too intimate touch.

But it’s just Colin. As his hand drops away from me, I see the concern and the caring in his gaze but I try to ignore it. “I’m fine,” I say, swallowing hard.

“You’re pale.” He steps toward me, touching my cheek, and I flinch. Again, his hand falls away and like an idiot, I miss his touch.

“Tired.” I offer him a wan smile, wishing he’d leave me alone. Also wishing he’d whisk me out of here and rescue me for good. Maybe we could run away together. He doesn’t want to face his problems and I don’t want to face mine. We could avoid everything. Together. Alone. Naked . . .

Yeah. That sounds like my every dream come true.

“It’s been a busy night. You should go take a break,” he suggests, reaching out to touch me. Again. I let him this time, pressing my lips together when he tucks a wayward strand of hair behind my ear. He’s so gentle, so sweet. Does he know how torturous this is? How much I want him?

We deny each other what we both want. I’m starting to wonder if we’re both out of our minds.

“Everyone still needs help,” I tell him, the breath catching in my lungs when he steps closer. He’s invading my personal space, helping me forget what just happened with that horrible customer. “I’ll take my break in thirty minutes. It should slow down by then.”

“Take care of yourself. I don’t like to see you looking so rattled.” His gaze drops to my lips and I part them, wishing he would kiss me. Which is crazy considering we’re in the middle of a very public restaurant.

“I’m okay. Really.” I offer him a bigger smile and he returns it, the sight of that familiar, heartbreaking crooked smile making me want to throw my arms around him and never let him go.

“I miss talking to you,” he confesses, his voice low.

I’m stunned by his words. “I miss talking to you too,” I automatically say in return.