Page 30 of Give Me Love

“I’ll have a Coke also,” I say to Abby, but I’m ignored. She doesn’t even turn to look at me when I speak. She just stares at Bryce.

“Two Cokes, Abby,” Bryce says. He doesn’t notice her staring at him, or he ignores it.

“Coming right up,” red responds, giving me a quick glance.

“Seems like someone has a little crush.”

He lifts a brow.

“Abby, the waitress.” I nod toward her.

He runs a hand over his head. “She’s a kid.”

“She can’t be any younger than me,” I argue.

He eyes me up. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-seven,” I answer.

He doesn’t say anything. He can’t be that much older, but considering he owns a nightclub, he may be.

“How old are you?”

“Thirty-three,” he answers.

“Thirty-three? Wow. You knew exactly what you wanted to do with your life, huh?” I mean, nightclub owner at such a young age. He got right to it.

He runs a hand behind his neck. “I really didn’t. I only knew I wanted to run my own business. Pops wasn’t one to let his boys have idle hands. School was very important to him, so I went to college and got a degree.”

How nice it must have been to have someone who actually cared if you succeeded or not. Abby places our drinks down and we thank her.

“And you chose business,” I confirm. “What about Jace?” I hit my straw against the table to open it.

He twirls his wrapper around his finger as he looks down at the table. “Jace joined the Army when he was eighteen.”

“The Army?”

He clears his throat. “Yeah, he just got out.”

“That’s awesome.”

“Yeah,” he says, even toned, and I wonder what’s up with that. Most people are proud when they speak of their family member in the service, but I don’t push it. Instead, I ask something else.

“How long have you run the club?”

“You’re full of questions, aren’t you?” He leans back in his seat, slightly narrowing his blues at me.

“This is called getting to know each other. You know, I ask a question, you answer, and then you can ask a question.” I link my fingers together in front of me, crossing my ankles under the table.

He looks uneasy. “Right.” He clears his throat and sits up, running his hands across his thighs as he does. “I don’t run the club anymore. I pay people to take care of it. People I trust. I’m into horse racing.”

“You race horses?” I ask, intrigued.

Abby places our food down. “Anything else I can get you?”

Bryce lifts a brow at me.

“I’m good.”

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