Page 10 of Sweet Surrender
I couldn’t meet his eye thanks to the embarrassment coursingthrough me. It was evident from the clothes he wore, the car he traveled in, and the fact he had his own driver that Nash wasn’t shy of a few dollars. Yet here I was, making minimum wage in a diner, and unable to even consider spending another $50 on a car.
“It’s fine,” I said when I looked up and found him watching mewith pity on his face. “It was only supposed to be something to tie me over until I’d saved for something else.”
It was a big, fat lie, but Nash didn’t need to know that. He opened hismouth to reply but was cut off by the sound of the chime ringing out, and my gaze darted over to see who had just come in.
Once again, my heart jumped into my throat, only for a differentreason this time.
Trent walked straight through the door with his usual swagger andcocksure grin. Seeing me staring over his shoulder, Nash turned to seewhat I was looking at before turning back to me with a scowl on his face. When Trent reached the counter, he took the stool next to Nash.
“How’s my girl today?” Trent said, making me internally cringe like Ialways did whenever he called me his girl. From beside him, Nash’s body tensed, and the scowl deepened before he schooled his features again.
Christ. Did Nash think Trent was my boyfriend?
I hoped not.
Not that I wanted Nash to know I was single.
The first time Trent had called me his girl, I’d laughed it off thinking itwas a joke instead of setting him straight. Harry’s warning of‘the customer is always right,’had rung in my ear, and I didn’t want Trent to think I was being rude.
Three months later, Trent’s pet name for me had stuck, much to mydisliking.
“Hi, Trent,” I replied as nonchalantly as possible. “What can I getyou?”
His eyes raked over my body as if I’d just offered myself up on a plateto him, something he always did.
“The usual please, Sav,” he replied, giving me what I’m sure hethought was a charming smile.
Trent worked in the car salesroom down the road, selling expensivecars that I could only ever dream about owning. He’d tried to impress me by boring me to tears about the latestPorschethe garage was stocking, and how he was on the waitlist to own one.
What Trent didn’t realize was that materialistic things didn’t sway me,mainly because I knew how damaging it could be to want things you couldn’t afford.
I scurried off to give Chef Paul Trent’s order of chicken Caesar salad,with no anchovies, before I made his drink- an iced, decaf latte with oat milk. It was the same thing Trent had day in and day out.
This time as I moved about behind the counter, I felt two sets of eyeswatching my every move.
“Hey, Sav, what are you doing Friday night?” Trent asked.
Here we go…
“I…erm…I’m not sure yet,” I lied, knowing full well I didn’t have anyplans. Plans involved money, money I didn’t have.
“I’ve managed to get reservations at Sphere, what do you say?” Histone was full of confidence as if he had finally found the thing that would make me say yes to him.
Heat crept up my neck. I was used to Trent asking me out, but thistime we had an audience. Nash was watching me intently, waiting for my reply, and didn’t that make me feel all kinds of awkward?
“Isn’t there like a six-month waitlist to Sphere?” I said, instead ofshutting Trent down straight away. I didn’t know why I hadn’t just declined his invite, perhaps out of curiosity that he’d managed to get the reservations.
Sphere was averyexpensive, andveryexclusive fine diningrestaurant which had opened in Portland six months ago. It had been fully booked every night since and was owned by a famous French chef who’d won award after award for his culinary skills.
It was rumored that an average meal at Sphere cost $700, and thatwas without the expensive wine and champagne they served. The only reason I knew so much about it was because Michelle had droned on and on about how desperate she was to go.
“Yeah, but I sold a car to the assistant manager and managed tonegotiate a deal. I gave a couple of grand off in exchange for him getting me a table. So, how about it?” Trent said, puffing his chest up to show how proud of himself he was.
Once again, my eyes flickered to Nash whose lips were pulled into asmirk on one side. Although, I wasn’t sure if he was enjoying my discomfort or smirking at Trent’s arrogance.
“Thanks for the invite, Trent, but I don’t think it’s a good idea. Youknow I don’t date.”
“It doesn’t have to be a date,” Trent said quickly, not seeming to carethat he was coming off a little desperate. “We can just hang out as friends. Come on, Sav, when was the last time you did something fun?”
