Page 3 of Arrogant Rucking Player

“Muummmm.” Brady grabbed her hand. “You promised burgers.”

Her eyebrows raised. “I remember someone else promising that they would make their bed.”

Brady ducked his head. “Yeah. ‘Bout that…”

I laughed. “Maybe you can make it when you get him?” I tried to rescue him, knowing it wasn’t my place at all.

Nyla shrugged. “We can do that. Thanks, Mason. He seems to really enjoy training with you.”

“Loved having him here. See you tomorrow, bud?”

“See you, Mason!” Brady jumped twice for a high five I lifted, and left laughing.

I watched them leave, the field emptying out behind me as kids filtered off for the afternoon, heading away with their families. At the gate, Nyla stopped and looked back, giving me a small wave. That tiny gesture kept me going for the next three days until I figured I might catch her after work one time again.

And I wouldn’t even have to get my stalker suit on for that one.

CHAPTER TWO

NYLA

“Another beer, love.”

“Make it two.” A hand cracked the table, and I was glad it wasn’t my backside.

Ugh, I hated it when customers tacked endearments on the end of their wants and needs list.

“Order’s up, Nyla!”

I waved a hand over my head and directed the next free waitstaff I had to the dinging bell that accompanied Sully, my best and most reliable chef who called out each order as it came up from the kitchen at the other end of the restaurant.

But his urgency wasn’t the only priority I had to deal with right now.

“Table ten wants their birthday cake five minutes ago!”

“Fifteen has a complaint about the pepper sauce.Again.”

The four conversations aimed in my direction—five, if I counted Brady at the back of it all pointing to the upstairs toilet—clashed in magnificent fashion. I nodded to the latter and sighed at that last order, pushing away from the till where I’d been trying—unsuccessfully—to pre balance the cash because I suspected we were out. “I got the pepper sauce. Can you do the cake?”

So much for getting on top of things before they got away from me early in the night.

“I can do cake.” Jenny ginned and waved on her way to the cool room.

“That’s a load off. Thanks,” I called out to her retreating back, although I doubted she heard me over the hubbub ofCowboy’s Pitstop, a truly horrendous steakhouse themed restaurant situated on the southside of Brisbane.

I’d walk away from the restaurant, except that my sole source of income and Brady’s inheritance was tied up in his father—and my more than frustrating ex’s–silent share of the business.

Plastering on a smile I didn’t feel any more, I faced my next customer and took their payment by rote. “Lena, can you wipe down fourteen, please? Then there’s a couple at the bar who have been waiting patiently,” I murmured as I tossed a handful of silver into the tip jar. My fake smile stayed in place as I stared at the booking ledger for the mezzanine conference level on the floor above that had a full Saturday night striped through it for the next weekend marked outSanford Sentinels Christmas Party.

I closed my eyes on a groan. Brilliant. All we needed was a club party on one of the busiest nights of the year, and we were already down staff with two out from sickness this week. I scrawled inset menuson the diary next to the booking, taking the choice away.

“You got it,” Lena shouted in my ear over the hubbub in the bar. The rotund, bouncy waitress darted between tables, cloth in hand, menus already tucked under her arm.

My back ached already, and the night wasn’t halfway done. A blur attacked me from the side. I held up a hand, but Lena hadn’t doubled back.

“Mum!” Brady looped his arms around my waist. Chocolate smeared his mouth side to side in a goofy grin.

“Oh, my G—” I grabbed a handful of napkins and swiped his face, relieved the front counter was bereft of customers for the time being. “Brady. What has Chaz got you into now?”

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