After taking my first break, I got back on the floor. One of my new customers was a man sitting alone, dressed in a brown business suit that didn’t complement his natural coloring at all.
I pulled out my order pad and walked up to his table.
“Good afternoon,” I said. “I’ll be your server today. What can I get started for you?”
There was something... strange about him. Off. He looked almost... unearthly? Was that the right word? Like he didn’t belong here. Sort of shiny and golden, and too perfect to be real. He had long, blond hair that was tied back in a ponytail but his eyes... they were a strange shade of green. They caught me off guard, and I realized I was staring. The shade couldn’t possibly be natural. They had to be contacts or something.
“I’ll take an order of escargot with some garlic butter, to start.”
Blinking back to myself, I tore my gaze away and wrote down the order: slimy snails and smelly butter. Not too many orders of escargot came out of our kitchen. In fact, I’d always wondered why the owners bothered to keep it on the menu when no one ordered it. “Will that be it for starters?” I asked. “A drink, maybe?”
“Hmm...I’ll have a cognac. And a glass of water, with lemon.”
Again, odd order.
While his facial features were overtly magnificent, for some reason he still repelled me on an instinctual level I couldn’t explain. I felt like something was heaving inside me, screaming to run away. But that was stupid. I was just freaked out after the ugly scene with Jake earlier. That had to be it.
It was weird. Yesterday, a vampire was in here, and I could barely keep a lid on my fascination. Today, this guy— just as handsome and unusual, though in a different way—was making my skin crawl so badly I wanted to scratch furrows in my arms to make the sensation stop.
I was staring at him again. The guy cleared his throat and gave me the strangest look. Like I was being judged and indicted without a trial, ready for the sentence to be handed down.
Run, little girl, that look said. Run as far and as fast as you can. The hunt is coming for you, and we will not be denied.
SEVEN
“TELL ME YOUR NAME,” the man commanded, his green eyes hard.
Never in my life could I recall feeling as disgusted by the proximity of another human being as I did at that moment. My stomach was curdling and my flesh felt like it was being burned off my bones under the intensity of his gaze.
“Your name,” he repeated, his voice like iron.
Lifting my finger, I pointed mutely at my nametag.
Because, duh.
I watched him warily, trying to get a handle on my reaction. There was something... inherently repugnant about the man. It was the strangest feeling, like something in my body chemistry or my DNA was rejecting being in his presence.
The man lifted an eyebrow at my less than respectful response. “Has anybody ever told you that in Spanish, zorra means both a female fox and a promiscuous woman?”
It was not the first time I’d ever heard that line before—a line which, ironically, was not funny whatsoever given my abject failure in the ‘being a sex kitten’ department. Having gone through a high school Spanish class, as well as having dated a Latino boyfriend for all of two weeks, that particular pun had been played out years ago. And this dude obviously never considered that maybe—just maybe—I’d heard that one a time or two in my life?
“I’ll go put in your appetizer order,” I said tightly, walking away as fast as my feet would take me.
I felt like a magnet being repelled by another magnet. It was bad enough that I even tried getting another server to take over the table. Ponytail Guy stared at me shamelessly the whole time, never taking his gaze from me while I was visible from the seating area. No matter where I was on the floor, I felt my skin heating up, crawling, climbing over my bones, trying to get away.
It was almost physically painful.
I’d managed to get one of the other servers to bring out his drink, but when his food was ready, she was on break, so I reluctantly put the plates on a tray and brought them to his table. Placing the order in front of him, I did my damnedest to avoid eye contact at all costs.
“Thank you,” he said, trying to sound pleasant although his voice raked over me like shards of glass. “So, tell me, Zorah. Do you live around here?”
I didn’t want to give him any real answers, but, c’mon. Seriously. It didn’t take a brain surgeon to figure that one out. “Well, I work here so... yeah?”
“Tell me about yourself.” He laid his hands in his lap. Smiled. He was clearly trying to be conversational. Trying, and not caring that he was failing miserably.
My creeper radar was on full alert. Dear god, this day could not be over soon enough.
“I’m sorry, sir,” I managed through gritted teeth. “I have other tables to attend to.”
I started to walk away, but a hand like a steel band closed around my arm. I gasped and jerked free with a twisting move learned in some long-ago self-defense class. Heart pounding, I whirled, standing a step out of reach.
His flat green eyes were still peeling back the layers of my skin. “I’d like to know you better.”
Visions of making a scene and getting fired warred with scenes of being kidnapped and chained up in Ponytail Guy’s basement.
“I’m flattered,” I choked out, “but I need to work.”
I forced a smile that felt more like a rictus, and fled. For a while, I was able to get other servers to occasionally check on him, but he eventually pulled over the manager and told him I was neglecting him, so I got reamed and eventually slunk
