“Here. This is yours.”
“It’s from your tables, Em.” Mason held up his hands, taking a step back.
“Tables you covered. It’s yours. Take it.” She thrust the money at him, but he refused to budge.
“It was the least I could do. You covered that section all morning for me. I owe you. Keep it.”
“You don’t owe—”
“Keep the money and I won’t. We can call it even.” He folded his arms and all hope of winning the argument went right out the window.
“Thank you.” Em had trouble meeting his eyes as she shoved the tip money into her pocket and went to collect her next order from the kitchen.
She managed to avoid Bart’s friendly hands this time around, but could feel his eyes boring into her back all the way across the restaurant, making her skin crawl. He wasn’t really dangerous. Just creepy. When she got back to the ticket counter, Mason was glaring at the now vacant kitchen window.
“If he doesn’t quit leering at you like some damn creeper, you should sue for sexual harassment.”
“I kind of need this job, Mason.”
“I don’t. I’ll kick his ass for you if you want me to.” His grin was playful, but there was a hint of sincerity behind his offer. If she asked, he really would do it.
“You’re going to kick Bart’s ass?” The disbelief wasn’t meant to be insulting, just honest. Mason definitely hit the gym on a regular basis, but Bart easily cleared two-hundred-and-fifty some odd pounds. Most of which was not muscle mass, but still . . .
“What? You afraid he might sit on me?”
“The thought crossed my mind.”
Mason tossed his arm over her shoulders with a friendly chuckle. “I’d risk being flattened like a pancake to protect your honor, Em.”
She couldn’t help it. She burst out laughing while Mason grinned like a fool.
Chapter Five
Jay
Son of a bitch. He was at it again. Jay strolled into Bart’s to find Mason Locklier’s arm draped over Em’s shoulders and the two of them laughing about something behind the ticket counter. That asshole was seriously testing Jay’s restraint and if he laid one more hand on his girl, Jay was going to lose it.
“How’s it going?” He leaned casually against the counter as Em and Mason turned to face him.
Em’s eyes lit up and Mason’s arm dropped away. That’s right, asshat. Hands off.
“What are you doing here?” The sight of Em’s genuine smile wiped away any lingering annoyance.
“Bart called. He needs someone to cover the bar this afternoon for Tom, so I came in early.”
Bart’s was the kind of place where it didn’t really matter if you were old enough to drink to work the bar. If you could pour a bottle, you’d do. Jay wasn’t complaining. It was just about the only place he and Em could find the work they so desperately needed when they were first starting out.
Everything had seemed so bright, shiny, and new the day he’d swooped in to Em’s rescue and taken her away. A new beginning full of promise. They’d been so naïve. Without high school diplomas or any sort of references, they’d been turned down right and left until the last of his inheritance was spent trying to keep them fed. If Bart hadn’t taken pity on them—and possibly an inappropriate liking to Em that Jay worked hard to ignore—they would have found themselves in trouble again. As long as Bart kept his hands to himself, Jay was thankful enough for the weekly paychecks that they stuck around. But he promised himself if he ever caught the guy so much as breathing on her, it was over. They were out of there.
“Maybe we could have lunch together before you start.”
“Actually,” Mason slipped around the corner of the counter, eyes scanning the dining room. “I think you have more customers, Em.”
Em glanced over at a table of waiting guys in matching orange vests and sighed. “Oh well, maybe dinner before I leave?”
Jay’s glare followed Mason all the way to the kitchen, not that he seemed to notice.
“Sure. I need to start now, anyway. I’ll save my break for dinner later, though.”
Em grinned and gave him a quick peck on the cheek before scurrying over to the table to take their orders. Jay ducked under the bar and started inventorying supplies. One would think that noon on a weekday was a bit early for the bar to be open, but within half an hour he had more customers than the rest of the place combined.
He poured glass bottles, squeezed fruit, and stirred drinks for a solid forty-five minutes until a commotion demanded his attention. The group of guys seated in Em’s section were getting rowdy. Jay’s teeth ground together as their voices grew louder and they started shoving each other in the booth. Em rushed over and was doing her best to get them to quiet down from a distance, but they were obviously making her uncomfortable.