Page 5 of Loaded

“Weren’t you just playing piano?” Easton asks.

I blink—how could he have seen that?

“The idiot hosts didn’t realize who he was.” The collagen-woman pouts. “They made uswaitfor a table.”

Easton, at least, has the decency to lookembarrassed, but he doesn’t appear to know who I am. Thank heavens for small blessings. “I didn’t mind waiting—the music was incredible.”

“Incredible?” The woman arches one eyebrow. “If you like elevator music.”

“I do happen to like Chopin,” Easton says.

“I actually prefer Beving,” I say, “but they want straight classical here.”

“It was boring, so they should let you branch out,” she says. “Now, if you could play, like, thePiano Man, that would be something.”

“I’ll make note of it,” I say with a smile that I hope doesn’t look forced.

“How about it?” Easton asks. “Feel like working a little more magic tonight?”

“What?” Collagen asks.

“What questions do we have to answer to have you order for us?” He’s smiling, but not at his date.

At me.

“It’s probably easier if you just choose what you like from the menu,” I say.

“Oh, come on, Bea,” Easton says.

Apparently he knows exactly who I am, and that means he probably knew when I was playing, too. I hate when real life collides with work. I force another smile. “The first question is whether you have any allergies, Easton.”

“Wait, do you two know each other? Or, like, did they say your name earlier?” Collagen’s squinting as she stares at my very small chest. I’m assuming she’s looking for a nonexistent nametag.

“Bea’s brother Emerson married my sister,” Easton says. “Though until I saw her playing earlier, I had no idea she worked here.”

“It’s not like people advertise when they havethiskind of job,” Collagen says.

Easton frowns. “I’ve spent the last few years chained to my desk at the office, but had I known you worked here, I’d have been here sooner. I’ve heard their pork chop is to die for.”

I cluck. “I don’t think that’s the right choice for you,” I say. “Once you answer the questions, I’ll pick something better.”

And I really, really want to get this one right.

3

EASTON

Over a year ago now, I made a complete fool of myself.

In my thirty years of life, I’ve never done anything else that was so completely embarrassing. In fact, when boys got into fights at school, I always kind of laughed. Sometimes I’d roll my eyes.

It’s not that I never understood why they fought.

I get angry too.

But I always prefer to use my brains to sort things out. Only, when I met Bea for the first time, something in my brain broke. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. She was so petite that I ached to wrap her up and protect her from the world. She had a gorgeous waterfall of shining, ebony hair. Her eyes were huge, almost anime-sized, and velvety brown. Her mouth distracted me so badly that I continuously found myself lost in the conversation.

And then her movie-star brother had flung his arm around her shoulders and something inside of me snarled. It wasn’t a friendly arm. He was saying “mine” with the movement. It made me angry.

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