Page 32 of Beyond the Stroke

“Says the woman whose job relies on customer service skills.”

She sticks out her tongue at me.

“Next time someone takes too long to order, be sure to do that,” I tease.

Later, when the restaurant is near closing time, I take a few minutes to talk with a group who is vacationing for a family reunion before busing their table.

“What was all that?” Summer points back in the direction of the patio where I just finished signing autographs and taking a few photos.

“What? I was helping you out. Giving the people what they wanted.”

“This is a restaurant. Not a meet and greet with Rory Shields.”

I shrug. “I thought it would help with tips. I’ve been charming all night. Not to mention the number of times women have stroked my arms and patted my chest. One even grabbed my ass. Please tell me those tips reflect the ass grabbing.”

“Rory, seriously? Why didn’t you say something? Nobody should be grabbing your ass.”

“It’s part of the gig.”

A line forms between her brows. “Of being a waiter?”

“A public figure.”

“That doesn’t mean people are allowed to touch you inappropriately.”

I like the way her nose twitches and her jaw pops. Like she’s upset on my behalf. I’ve never seen anything like it. Daphne was always game for however my popularity could benefit her. She would have encouraged groping if it meant she made connections with the right people.

I drop into the seat beside her. “So how were tips tonight?”

“Good,” she confirms, producing a large quantity of bills from her apron pocket.

“Good? Or great?” I wiggle my brows in jest as she counts the cash.

She shakes her head at my teasing, but once she’s done, a small, satisfied smile pulls at her lips.

“Fine. You’re right. Your charm and willingness to please every customer paid off.”

“I knew it would.”

“Here.” She extends a wad of bills out to me.

“No.” I wave her off. “That’s all yours.”

“You just worked six hours. It can’t be for nothing.”

Six hours? Being in Summer’s orbit, the time had flown by.

“It wasn’t for nothing, Wildflower. I did it for you.”

Our gazes lock. For a moment, there’s a flicker of vulnerability behind Summer’s eyes, but as quickly as it appeared, it’s gone.

“Because of my wrist.”

Technically, she’s right. But in this moment, I’m realizing her hurt wrist was my excuse to help her, not my only reason.

There’s something about Summer that has me intrigued, wanting to know more. I’ve spent my life around many different types of people and have gotten pretty good at reading them. There’s a difference between someone who genuinely wants distance and someone who is putting up walls to protect themselves. So, while Summer seems prickly and guarded, in our few interactions, I’ve seen glimpses of another side of her.

Like her interactions with customers. Though she’s not bubbly or overly friendly, she does care about doing her job well. She appears casual, but holds herself with a certain elegance that is captivating.

---