Working Men 1 Box Set

At Your Service-3

“He likes you,” Jen announces once he leaves.

I watch him walk away—there’s a certain lope in his hips that turns me on. Toying with the straw in my soda, I wait until he disappears into the kitchen before I say, “He’s probably married or seeing someone. They always are.”

“No wedding ring.”

Leave it to her to be looking.

“And if he’s got a girlfriend, then honey, my gaydar is way off tonight.”

I laugh at that. She’s a self-proclaimed fag hag—all the guys she knows are gay, and sometimes she even jokes that Greg must go both ways because he’s with her, isn’t he? So he has to have homosexual tendencies. She thinks it’s something in her genes that makes her attractive to gay men.

I tell her it’s her bubbly personality and the fact that she’s fun to be around—that’s why I like her. You need a girl to talk to? Call Jen. Someone to tag along with you, shopping or a show or dinner? Jen’s there. A shoulder to cry on when you wake up alone and you don’t even have his number… she’ll hug you and tell you it’ll be okay, and when you’re all cried out and sniffling, she’ll bring out a tube of ready-made cookie dough and two spoons, and you’ll sit in front of the TV eating raw dough until she gets you laughing again. I know—been there, done that. That’s why I like her.

She rolls her straw wrapper up between her fingers and grins. “He’s cute.” Leaning across the table, she lowers her voice to a loud stage whisper. “Why did he switch tables?”

“I don’t know.” My heart hammers in my chest—damn her for getting my hopes up. “The other guy wasn’t exactly Mr. Personality.”

“They don’t switch tables because one guy doesn’t know how to smile.”

She sits up straight so she can look around the room. Her gaze wanders over to the bar and then behind it, where the computer is, and a handful of employees huddle around the terminal, waiting to enter orders and print receipts.

I follow her gaze and see Todd at the screen. A short woman with long blonde hair and too much glitter on her face pushes him playfully aside. Her ruby lips sparkle in the dim lighting and she says something that sets everyone laughing, even Todd, who ducks his head as if embarrassed. Then he glances over at our table, at me, and his smile stays in place when our eyes meet. I know they’re talking about me.

I turn back to Jen and sigh. “God.”

Why do I feel like I’m back in high school and someone just told the guy I liked all year that I have the hots for him? The same dread curls in my stomach, the same sweat makes my hands clammy when I rub them together. Maybe eating here wasn’t such a good idea after all.

With a smile, Jen says, “That girl’s teasing him about you.”

“I figured that.” I look up again and he’s still watching me, staring like he’s thinking about something—about me, I hope—and he’s forgotten everything else around him. The restaurant has disappeared, the other patrons, Jen and that blonde with the loud laugh, they’re all gone and it’s just him and me.

Then he turns away, and the moment passes.

When was the last time I fell like this for someone I just met? I don’t remember, but when he comes back, I’m going to say something. I don’t know what yet, and I hope it’s something witty and engaging and coy. If I choke or freeze, I can always send Jen to get his number. She’s good at that. Another reason why I like her—she has no qualms when it comes to playing match-maker.

Yes, I realize with a certain irony, her match-making ability is also one of the reasons she annoys me at times. But that was before Todd.