Belong Read online

  She makes this cat clawing motion as she starts to chuckle.

  I know that Leila is just trying to get me, so I play it nice and cool. In the dullest and unenthused voice I can muster, I reply, “Really Leila, delectable dicks? Could you be any cruder?”

  With a shit eating grin on her face, she admits, “Yeah, I probably could be. Would you like me to try?”

  Knowing that she is serious as a fucking heart attack about it, I quickly shake my head no. “Alrighty then, go get ‘em Ms. Cool.”

  Rolling my eyes at her, I scoff, “Pffft, I got this. No problem!” Anyway, the last thing I need right now is some guy swimming around in the cesspool that is my head.

  I square my shoulders and walk with confidence toward the table of amazing looking guys. “Play it cool Sarah, play it cool,” I tell myself mentally.

  “Hi, guys! Is everyone ready to order?” I try not to make eye contact with anyone specific. I am dying to look at the brown eyed, tattooed God sitting at the far end of the table but don’t dare.

  The shorter, stockier, guy who just oozes cockiness closest to me spouts out “Ginger!”

  I try to laugh it off. “Yeah, don’t call me that. My name’s Sarah, and I’ll be your server today.”

  “Oh, come on, Ginger. Don’t be such a bitch. Oh, wait! You’re a Ginger, so I guess it just comes naturally,” he chides. He acts so damn proud and smug as if he had just found the answer to world hunger. The group of guys just look at him with annoyance and irritation.

  I want to punch him in the throat so bad. I hate being called a ‘Ginger.’ The last ass that kept calling me that, I kicked in the balls so hard that he fell to his knees. Needless to say, he didn’t do it again. I may be small, but he’s right, I do have a red head’s temper that can rear its feisty head when you’ve pushed me too far.

  From the other end of the table, I hear a voice say, “Duke, knock your shit off.”

  When I look to see who it was that was coming to my rescue, I have to immediately look back down because it’s him. He has a very stern look on his face. Staring back at the fucking jackass that is sitting right in front of me. I look him square in the eye with the sweetest smile on my face. “Duke, was it?”

  Rocking back on his chair he says. That’s right, Ginger. I’m the Duke.”

  “Well, Duke. I’m Sarah, and I will be taking your order today. May I suggest our asshole sandwich, it’s called ‘The Douchebag’ and it comes with a side of toilet water. I think that’s right up your ally. Can I interest you in that?”

  My smartass remark gets all the other guys rolling with laughter and it sure does shut him up right away. His face turns a dark shade of red, and he says a few not so friendly words under his breath.

  I make my way around the table, taking each order with ease. Then, I come to him. I look directly at my order pad, attempting to write down everything he’s saying, but I’m distracted by his voice. It’s deep, smooth, and the most sensual thing I have heard. It surrounds me like a blanket made of cashmere. Making me feel safe, secure, and comforted. All the sudden, I realize that all I have written down of his order is a bacon cheeseburger. I feel the heat rushing to my face, and I know it’s as red as my hair. Damn it! There goes my cool and confident facade I had going on. I never act like this because of some guy, no matter how breathtaking he might be.

  “Hey, Kitten. Did you get all that?”

  I have no choice but to look into those striking brown eyes. “Umm… I think so.” I have no fucking idea what he said. But what am I going to say ‘No, I’m sorry I was too busy being caressed by your voice to hear anything you said.’ Shit! My brain starts going into overdrive. OK, bacon cheeseburger, most people want fries. Yeah, fries that’s a safe bet. Coke, yeah that’s a safe one too. “I think so, bacon cheeseburger, fries, and a coke.”

  Trying to move on to the next person so I can get the hell out of here until he stops me. “Would you mind swapping those fries to onion rings, and the Coke to a chocolate milkshake?”

  “Oh, yeah. I mean absolutely, no problem I can do that.” For fuck's sake, what a disaster.

  I get the rest of the orders as fast as I can and get the hell away from that table. I feel like a complete idiot. When I get back to where Leila is finishing up wrapping silverware, she has the smuggest smile on her face. “Smooth Sarah, real smooth! Yep, you played it cool, not flustered at all.”

  I smack her with the order pad. “Well, we shall see how calm, cool, and collected you stay when you deliver their food. Because I’m sure, the fuck not doing it!”

  With one eyebrow lifted, she says, “Oh, you’re taking their order out.”

  I know my voice is way too loud. “What? Why? You got your laugh. I’m not fucking doing it!”

  Leila looks over at the table, grinning. “I think there might be an unhappy customer if you don’t. You know the saying. The customer is always right.”

  “You are so full of shit, Leila. Who exactly do you think would be upset if I didn’t deliver their food personally? The cocky ass that put his life in danger by calling me, Ginger? I doubt that he will lose any sleep over not seeing me ever again.”

  “Yeah, smartass, him! No, the unbelievably gorgeous one at the end of the table. The one who hasn’t taken his eyes off you the entire time. The one whose order you didn’t even hear because you took a little visit to fantasy land.”

  Trying to be discreet, I look back over my shoulder at the table. Holy shit! Mr. Drop Dead Fucking Gorgeous is looking right at me. He does this little smirk and head nod. I swear Niagara Falls just let loose in my panties. I don’t even know who he is. Damn, there is something about that man that makes me want to offer my body, heart, and soul to him.

  “Damn it, Sarah, focus!” I keep chanting inside my head.

  Amie comes strolling in with a couple of our friends Addy and Kristi. They are laughing out of control about God only knows what.

  Amie has been there for me no matter what I’ve needed. Through the nights when I cried so much that I didn’t think I had any more tears left only to be proven wrong. We have laughed until I have almost peed my pants, spent hours at the coffee shop just chatting about anything and everything. She’s helped me when I was going through my self-destruct stage. When I was certain that any fate would be better than what I was going through at the time.

  She knows I’m fucked up but doesn’t judge me. When she found out what was going on at home, she begged me to move into her one room apartment with her. I told her that if I did that, I would feel like I was letting go of mom and Stella. I just wasn’t ready to take that step yet. Being the awesome person that she is she totally understood and told me that the invite was always there. She is one of the strongest people I have ever met in my life. If life knocks her down, she bounces right back up and asks, ‘Bitch, is that all you got?’ I could learn a thing or two from her outlook on life.

  Now, Addy and Kristy, those two are as crazy as the day is long. We don’t hang out that often anymore, but when we do it’s a blast. I’m not as close to them as I am Amie, but they’re pretty fucking cool. Throughout high school, they were the ones you wanted to have your back. That’s what they did. They had my back.

  One night, after a football game, a group of girls who had been giving me a hard time for a few weeks had me pinned against the concession stand. It was your typical fucking stupid high school shit. One of them thought that I was after her boyfriend just because we had partied together. It wasn’t my fault that she was a stuck up bitch. That’s exactly what got me in trouble, telling her just that. Back in the day, I wasn’t exactly good at keeping my mouth shut. I didn’t have that filter that most people have that tells them when to shut the fuck up.

  They each take a seat on a bar stool by the counter that Leila and I are standing at arguing about who’s taking the food to the table.

  Finally, letting out a huge sigh and rolling my eyes “Fine I’ll take it! There are you happy now?”

  It’s no secr
et what we’re arguing about. First of all, Leila is by no means being quiet. Two, I keep looking over at the table to see if any of them are paying attention to our conversation.

  Addy leans across the counter. “Hey, I don’t give a shit who does it as long as I can help.”

  Amie and Kristi chime in at the same time, “Yeah, we’ll help too!”

  Amie holds her hand up in the air like she’s carrying a tray and Kristi throws a dish towel across her arm.

  Oscar, the lead cook, yells out the little kitchen window, “Hey! If you lovely, delicate flowers are done fighting as to who is going to take the orders over to the table of what did you call them? Delectable dicks? Yeah, that’s it. Delectable dicks. Their orders are up.”

  Thank God, the place has cleared out and there aren’t any other customers in here to be offended by his comments. Because good fucking hell, it’s not like he used an inside voice. I’m sure everyone at that table heard him. Because when I say yell, I mean even the people in the next building could probably hear him. I so wish I could crawl into a hole and die.

  “Really, Oscar?” I say, giving him my best you’re such an ass look that I can.

  While the others are enjoying my embarrassment, I straighten my shoulders and grab the huge tray of food.

  “Christ, Oscar! This thing weighs more than I do. Ever thought of using more than one tray?”

  He grabs the towel from his shoulder and wipes the sweat from his forehead, then gives me a wink. “Nope.”

  Oscar looks like one of those cooks that used to be on that old time TV show Mel’s Diner. White T-shirt, bald with a bit of a pot belly. Even though at this very moment I want to kick him in the balls, he’s always there for all of us girls. He’s like the cool uncle everyone wishes they had.

  I balance the tray on my shoulder as I walk by the girls; they are standing there with tears in their eyes from laughing so hard.

  “You need some help? Leila asks, as she tries to control her boisterous laugh and doing a horrid job at it. Her short black and pink hair bounces as she lets out a snort that makes them start laughing even harder.

  Looking straight ahead, trying not to laugh myself, I tell them, “Keep laughing bitches, I hope you all piss yourselves.”

  The guys are talking about someone kicking someone’s ass in a fight as I pass out their plates. I do everything possible not to make eye contact with any of them. The entire time I am handing out the mounds of food, I keep envisioning dumping someone’s burger right in their lap. I finally get all the food successfully delivered, and do a fabulous job at not making eye contact with him. The jerk face that took his own life into his hands earlier gives me a stare down the entire time. As I walk away, I look back over my shoulder and give him a sweet smile that I’m sure he’s fully aware is laced contempt.

  I keep myself busy with mindless jobs, doing my best to stay in the backroom. The girls quickly move on to some other topic. I feel sorry for whoever is their point of interest now. I’m only glad it’s not me. They’re howling even louder than what they did at me.

  I stock the supplies in the cooler and start thinking how much I love it here. The atmosphere is exactly what I need. The customers are great, well most the time. My coworkers are fabulous, even though I know that I can be like talking to a wall when it comes to certain topics. They try to help in any way that they can. What they don’t realize is that being here is therapeutic for me. For the most part, it is fun and light-hearted, even when we are busting our asses, we all still have a good time. I feel more than the pure evil that has ruined everything when I’m here.

  I only have to revisit their table a couple of times for refills and the bill. Once again, avoiding eye contact with him at all cost. Every time I get near him though, I feel this ‘Zing’ shoot through my body. No, more than my body, it makes its way all the way down to my soul. I’ve never felt this before. It’s like an electric shock that runs from my head to the tips of my toes. Every single sense in me is heightened to unbelievable levels.

  When they leave, Leila is kind enough to ring the guys up at the register. To be honest, I can’t believe that she didn’t take me from the customers I was helping to do that too. Man, I adore that woman, but she sure does love to see how riled up she can get me.

  I watch every move tall, dark and hotter than holy hell makes as he walks out. When he reaches the door, he glances over his shoulder, gives me a wink and flashes me the sweetest smile I have ever seen. I can feel my face start to burn and then when Leila bumps me with her hip it gets even worse.

  Grabbing the dish pan, I head over to their table. Man, I feel like some fucking love struck teenager. When I get to the spot that will forever and a day be known as ’his spot,’ I see something sticking out from under the plate. They had already left my tip when they paid the bill. I lift the plate carefully, like there is something underneath it that will jump out and bite me.

  Under the plate, there is a napkin with writing on it. ‘Kitten, give me a call sometime.’ There’s a phone number below it.

  I feel like a school girl who just found a valentine inside her locker from a secret admirer. I look around to see if anyone is watching me, but it seems as if they have lost total interest. I guess once the opportunity to embarrass me is gone, it’s no longer entertaining to watch my every move. I take another quick glance at the note before stuffing it into the front pocket of my jeans.

  For the first time in a very long time, throughout the day I catch myself smiling, thinking about what it would be like to call and talk to him. What would we talk about? What does he like to do? Would he ask me out? Where would we go on our first date? What would we name our children? I can’t help but giggle to myself. Good hell, I’m acting like a teeny-bopper with a crush. What’s next? Me writing our names inside little hearts on the cover of a notebook? Oh, yeah that’s right I don’t even know his name. This was the first time I have ever seen him, and I’ll probably never even see him again. Hell, I bet it was just some kind of dare one of the other guys put him up to. Probably that fucker Duke at the end of the table. The phone number probably isn’t even real. Chances are it’s to some porn site or some bladder control hotline.

  I don’t deserve to belong to a guy like that. I wish that I could let all the crap that has been said about me, to me, the whispering and the looks roll off my back. The bad is much easier to accept than the good.

  Over the next week, every time I hear a motorcycle pull into Delish my heart skips a beat. But no luck, my mystery man hasn’t been back. Every night when I end my shift and head out, I feel a little disappointed. The only time I’ve seen him again is in most of my thoughts and in my dreams.

  Chapter Two

  As I walk to work, I pull my jacket closed to keep the wet, cool morning air off my skin. The air has turned chilly in the mornings which is a sign that fall is upon us. I’ve always loved the colder weather. The girls think I’m crazy, but there’s just something about the crisp air. The way the frost glistens from everything it has touched overnight. The sound and feel of the crunch of fallen leaves under my feet. They always talk about going to Hawaii or the Bahamas. Not me, I want the Rockies or the Big Horn Mountains. To watch the snow, do an exotic dance coming to rest on the mountain tops. The way the trees sparkle when the frost has covered them like a blanket. When you take a deep breath and watch it leave your body, a sign that you’re alive. Jackson Hole Wyoming, now that’s where I would love to go someday. To live so close, but to never have been there just seems like a crime.

  Football season is upon us, and the Broncos are playing at home. What that means to me, is that Delish will be slammed ass busy, aka tips, and lots of them. It’s always a fun day at work when it’s game day. Leila is a diehard Broncos fan. She always decorates the place out with more Bronco paraphernalia than normal and serves the most awesome tailgate style food. She brings out this big ass TV and sets up surround sound. Most the time I’m pretty sure it’s as loud in the restaurant as it is at the
actual game.

  It’s during the fourth quarter, and the Broncos are so far ahead that the game is pretty much already over. The crowd has thinned out a bit, so I know Leila can handle it, and it’s safe to step outside for a bit. I’m hotter than the hubs of hell, and I’m in desperate need of some fresh air. I never wear much makeup, but what I did put on earlier I’m sure is long gone. I give Leila the fanning my face motion and point toward the door. She responds by plugging her nose like I stink. I mouth the word bitch to her, and she just laughs and waves me away.

  When I open the door, the air is cool and feels so good against my skin. Plopping down at the table and chairs that sit on the front porch, I kick my feet up into the chair next to me then set my iced latte down. Pulling the pen out that has been holding my out of control hair from my face, I let my head fall back against the chair.

  Right after letting out a deep sigh of exhaustion I hear that heavenly voice again. “Rough night?”

  At first, I think it is all in my head until I hear it again. “Rough night?”

  My head snaps forward so fast I’m pretty sure I just gave myself whiplash. Jumping out of my chair knocking it over as I do, I hear him say, “Whoa, Kitten. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  Holy fucking shit! It’s him. I try and get my whits about me, but I just stand here with my mouth hanging wide open like a damn idiot. My God, he looks even more fabulous than he did the first time I saw him. His baseball cap is pulled down low over his eyes. His black leather coat is gapping open to show his muscular chest covered tightly with a gray T-shirt. Perfectly fitting jeans with the knees ripped out, and the seams around his black work boots are all frayed and ragged.

  “Oh, it’s okay. I just didn’t know anyone else was out here.” I pull my hair back and twist it onto the top of my head sticking my pen through it to hold it up. Straightening my shirt, I hope it will help my disheveled appearance.