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.Even in the black and white checked kitchen attire—messy with pizza sauce and who knows what else—he was gorgeous.His sleeves were rolled up, showing his dark, tanned forearms firm with muscle.The apron he wore hinted at slender hips, outlined his hard torso, implied at the defined muscle beneath.It was all I could do not to openly drool at him, to grovel at his feet and offer him a lifetime of servitude in exchange for a smile, a touch.I patted my hair in place, took a deep breath, and approached the window.My table wanted extra garlic bread.It was the perfect excuse to talk to him.“Excuse me.” I cleared my throat, watching him expectantly.His head barely lifted, barely acknowledged me, but just the feel of his blue eyes against my own was enough to make my heart race even faster.“What.” He looked back down at his work.“Um … can I get some more garlic toast, for table thirteen?” I asked nicely.He looked up at me again, a slight smile bending his perfect lips.He raised his eyebrows and then leaned in closer to me.I focused on breathing.“See this?” Grey asked, his voice low, like velvet.He held up an order sheet.“ … Yes ….” I smiled.“Take this,” his tone was condescending, “take your pen, write one garlic toast,” he did exactly that, made sure I was watching, smartly—his eyes innocent, his voice sarcastic.“Then stab it on the puck, like so …,” he demonstrated for me, taking the order sheet he had just scrawled upon and placing it roughly on the hockey-puck-nail apparatus.“And then you wait, and I go back there, and put it in the oven.And when it’s done, I bring it to you.Okay?”“ … O … okay ….” I stammered stupidly.Heat rushed to my cheeks in an embarrassing blush, adding to my humiliation.“There’s no need for this,” he motioned with his hand to me, and then back to him.“There’s no need for us to talk.Ever.Okay? Can you remember that?” He muttered something then … I heard the words “stupid” and “waitresses” and “all.”I nodded, dumb with shock, and backed away from the window, trying to put some distance between me and his sudden, unexpected scorn.I could hear him chuckling behind the counter, and at the sound, my mortification turned swiftly to anger.Clearly I remembered Grey at the club and the smiles he had given me as we laughed and talked together.But either he’d totally forgotten me and I didn’t even register in his memory, or he did remember and simply didn’t care.Seething, I imagined him later on, regaling his kitchen friends with the story of his sheer wit that put the new girl in her place.Grey or no Grey, I would show him.He couldn’t be such a dick and get away with it.Quickly and impetuously, I stormed back to the counter, hastily scribbled, “Screw you!” on an order sheet and stabbed it on the puck.Then I rang the bell beside it as hard as I could, the poor instrument protesting with a loud, tinny clang that instantly got Grey’s attention.He swung around again from the oven, and the moment my eyes rested on his handsome, perfect face, I’d completely forgiven him and wanted to take it all back.What had I been mad about? I couldn’t seem to remember.He kept his icy blue eyes upon me, a small smirk on his lips, and reached to retrieve the order.It was too late to take back the rashly worded message, and my brow furrowed with fresh worry.Surely, this would make him hate me forever.His eyes scanned the page for what seemed like eternity.I grimaced at my own stupidity.Why couldn’t I’ve just let it go?Grey raised his eyebrows, and then he glanced at me.His blue eyes were … surprised? Amused? I couldn’t tell.Then, he chuckled slightly, shook his head, and a smile broke over his perfect lips.I didn’t want him to see my utter relief at his reaction.With an effort to seem completely calm and in control of myself, I shook my head at him, as if the whole thing were totally immature and beneath me, and then stalked out of the waitress area.I could hear Grey chuckling again from behind the counter.This time I didn’t mind.The night continued.It was Charlie and I, alone, again, but I actually came to find I didn’t mind it.Charlie knew what she was doing, and albeit lazier than Sophie, it was actually a nice change.She was wearing a dress tonight, low-cut and white with little pink flowers on it, like the kind someone would wear to a wedding.Her high heels clicked on the brown tile floor of the waitress area.Her hair was half up, half down in blond curls, her make-up done to a tee.She looked gorgeous, and I couldn’t help admiring her.If Grey didn’t go for her even, what chance did I really have?Charlie caught me staring.She smiled at me and motioned with her hand to outline her outfit.“It helps with the tips,” she admitted, “You should try it.Not that you don’t look good.I like your skirt.”“Thanks.” I looked down at myself, at my bright pink turtleneck and black pencil skirt.My dark curls tumbled down from the loose ponytail I wore; I had comfortable, practical black skate shoes on.I smiled at Charlie, I couldn’t help it.I wanted to hate her, I really did, but she was so beautiful, and so damn cool.I couldn’t help but want her approval, her compliments.“I like your style.” She confessed.Her pink lips smiled at me.“Sometimes though, a little cleavage, it goes a long way.”Near the end of the night, I saw the proof.Her Styrofoam cup was loaded with change, five-dollar bills mixed into the coins.Mine was full too, but nowhere near hers.I considered her advice.It might be worth it.Grey ignored me the rest of the night.Well, mostly.Once, we happened to look up at the same time, and our eyes met, and he gave me the most genuine smile I had ever received from him.It lasted only briefly, before he turned away and his expression resorted back to its normal, stoic appearance—but I was overjoyed.I couldn’t help but feel like I had made some progress, however small.If nothing else, I’d made myself memorable, and that seemed a victory in itself.I was painfully aware of him the entire night.I knew every move he made, every word he said, every time he left for a smoke break.A few times I debated just “happening” to go outside at the exact time he did, but I wasn’t ready for that.I wasn’t near brave enough.Instead I worked away, mostly silently, trying to do the best job possible so he’d notice, making my orders perfectly legible and exactly how he’d want them [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.Even in the black and white checked kitchen attire—messy with pizza sauce and who knows what else—he was gorgeous.His sleeves were rolled up, showing his dark, tanned forearms firm with muscle.The apron he wore hinted at slender hips, outlined his hard torso, implied at the defined muscle beneath.It was all I could do not to openly drool at him, to grovel at his feet and offer him a lifetime of servitude in exchange for a smile, a touch.I patted my hair in place, took a deep breath, and approached the window.My table wanted extra garlic bread.It was the perfect excuse to talk to him.“Excuse me.” I cleared my throat, watching him expectantly.His head barely lifted, barely acknowledged me, but just the feel of his blue eyes against my own was enough to make my heart race even faster.“What.” He looked back down at his work.“Um … can I get some more garlic toast, for table thirteen?” I asked nicely.He looked up at me again, a slight smile bending his perfect lips.He raised his eyebrows and then leaned in closer to me.I focused on breathing.“See this?” Grey asked, his voice low, like velvet.He held up an order sheet.“ … Yes ….” I smiled.“Take this,” his tone was condescending, “take your pen, write one garlic toast,” he did exactly that, made sure I was watching, smartly—his eyes innocent, his voice sarcastic.“Then stab it on the puck, like so …,” he demonstrated for me, taking the order sheet he had just scrawled upon and placing it roughly on the hockey-puck-nail apparatus.“And then you wait, and I go back there, and put it in the oven.And when it’s done, I bring it to you.Okay?”“ … O … okay ….” I stammered stupidly.Heat rushed to my cheeks in an embarrassing blush, adding to my humiliation.“There’s no need for this,” he motioned with his hand to me, and then back to him.“There’s no need for us to talk.Ever.Okay? Can you remember that?” He muttered something then … I heard the words “stupid” and “waitresses” and “all.”I nodded, dumb with shock, and backed away from the window, trying to put some distance between me and his sudden, unexpected scorn.I could hear him chuckling behind the counter, and at the sound, my mortification turned swiftly to anger.Clearly I remembered Grey at the club and the smiles he had given me as we laughed and talked together.But either he’d totally forgotten me and I didn’t even register in his memory, or he did remember and simply didn’t care.Seething, I imagined him later on, regaling his kitchen friends with the story of his sheer wit that put the new girl in her place.Grey or no Grey, I would show him.He couldn’t be such a dick and get away with it.Quickly and impetuously, I stormed back to the counter, hastily scribbled, “Screw you!” on an order sheet and stabbed it on the puck.Then I rang the bell beside it as hard as I could, the poor instrument protesting with a loud, tinny clang that instantly got Grey’s attention.He swung around again from the oven, and the moment my eyes rested on his handsome, perfect face, I’d completely forgiven him and wanted to take it all back.What had I been mad about? I couldn’t seem to remember.He kept his icy blue eyes upon me, a small smirk on his lips, and reached to retrieve the order.It was too late to take back the rashly worded message, and my brow furrowed with fresh worry.Surely, this would make him hate me forever.His eyes scanned the page for what seemed like eternity.I grimaced at my own stupidity.Why couldn’t I’ve just let it go?Grey raised his eyebrows, and then he glanced at me.His blue eyes were … surprised? Amused? I couldn’t tell.Then, he chuckled slightly, shook his head, and a smile broke over his perfect lips.I didn’t want him to see my utter relief at his reaction.With an effort to seem completely calm and in control of myself, I shook my head at him, as if the whole thing were totally immature and beneath me, and then stalked out of the waitress area.I could hear Grey chuckling again from behind the counter.This time I didn’t mind.The night continued.It was Charlie and I, alone, again, but I actually came to find I didn’t mind it.Charlie knew what she was doing, and albeit lazier than Sophie, it was actually a nice change.She was wearing a dress tonight, low-cut and white with little pink flowers on it, like the kind someone would wear to a wedding.Her high heels clicked on the brown tile floor of the waitress area.Her hair was half up, half down in blond curls, her make-up done to a tee.She looked gorgeous, and I couldn’t help admiring her.If Grey didn’t go for her even, what chance did I really have?Charlie caught me staring.She smiled at me and motioned with her hand to outline her outfit.“It helps with the tips,” she admitted, “You should try it.Not that you don’t look good.I like your skirt.”“Thanks.” I looked down at myself, at my bright pink turtleneck and black pencil skirt.My dark curls tumbled down from the loose ponytail I wore; I had comfortable, practical black skate shoes on.I smiled at Charlie, I couldn’t help it.I wanted to hate her, I really did, but she was so beautiful, and so damn cool.I couldn’t help but want her approval, her compliments.“I like your style.” She confessed.Her pink lips smiled at me.“Sometimes though, a little cleavage, it goes a long way.”Near the end of the night, I saw the proof.Her Styrofoam cup was loaded with change, five-dollar bills mixed into the coins.Mine was full too, but nowhere near hers.I considered her advice.It might be worth it.Grey ignored me the rest of the night.Well, mostly.Once, we happened to look up at the same time, and our eyes met, and he gave me the most genuine smile I had ever received from him.It lasted only briefly, before he turned away and his expression resorted back to its normal, stoic appearance—but I was overjoyed.I couldn’t help but feel like I had made some progress, however small.If nothing else, I’d made myself memorable, and that seemed a victory in itself.I was painfully aware of him the entire night.I knew every move he made, every word he said, every time he left for a smoke break.A few times I debated just “happening” to go outside at the exact time he did, but I wasn’t ready for that.I wasn’t near brave enough.Instead I worked away, mostly silently, trying to do the best job possible so he’d notice, making my orders perfectly legible and exactly how he’d want them [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]