live, where I work. He’s out of my league financially. And he’s being cryptic about being at my place at two. Dinner is not until five, at least. I know he’s not one to eat early. What could he possibly have planned?
“Hey, Layla. I got a customer at the bar asking for you,” Mark, the bartender, tells me.
“What?” What is going on in my life? I went from hiding in the shadows to being requested all the time. Surely, it’s not Owen. He’s already been here today.
“Some guy asked me to have you stop and see him when you got time.”
“Thanks, Mark. Let me get drinks for my table that just got seated, and I’ll be over.” The restaurant is pretty big. We have the VIP section in the back, our normal tables, and then another bar section. That consists of a long bar and several high-top tables. I never work the bar. I prefer to not deal with the drunk assholes. Give me the families and crying babies any day.
I see him as soon as I turn the corner. He’s sitting at the bar, eyes glued to the television watching some sort of fight. Slowly, my feet carry me toward him. “Hey.” I place my hand on his shoulder to get his attention.
He turns slightly in his seat, glancing over his shoulder. If I’m not mistaken, his eyes light up when he sees that it’s me. “Hey.” He sits up straight and turns fully to face me.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m your ride home.”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes. “I had planned on splurging for an Uber. Some crazy guy keeps leaving me these outrageous tips.”
He grins. “Yeah, sounds like a good one.”
“Meh, the jury’s still out,” I say, barely containing my own smile.
“I’ll be here,” he says. “Let me know when you’re ready to go.”
“Owen,” I start, but the look on his face stops me. “Thank you,” I say, instead of the arguing. He nods and turns back around, eyes on the television.
“Can I get you anything?” I ask, leaning in close so he can hear me.
He turns his head, which puts us close, too close. Instinct tells me to pull away, but my body craves the way he’s looking at me—the way he makes me feel, yearning for his attention. “Just to get you home safe,” he says huskily.
Swallowing hard, I nod and back away. Turning on my heel, I get back to work. Thankful that my tables are on the other side of the restaurant tonight. Just his presence alone is distracting; being able to see him as I serve my tables would be an even greater challenge.
Chapter 5
Owen
I rented a car for today. I could have used the driver from the hotel, but something about spending the day, just the two of us appealed to me more. She appeals to me. There’s just something about her that pulls me in, makes me want to take care of her. She’s so open with her past, with her struggles, yet she has yet to throw herself at me.
She has no idea who I am, and that just makes me want to get to know her even more. She knows I have money. I’ve been leaving her substantial tips since that first night. Sure, it’s a little over the top, but when I saw her limping and the state of her worn-out shoes, I knew she needed it. Then the next night, she was still wearing those tired shoes, but the sincerity in her thank you was profound.
So, here I am, pulling into the parking lot of her rundown apartment building. As promised, the thugs I paid off the second night in a row are nowhere to be seen. I paid them a visit before going back to the hotel restaurant, waiting for her to get off work. My gut twisted as the car pulled away. This place really isn’t safe.
“Hey,” she says, opening the door before I have a chance to knock.
“Layla,” I greet her. “You ready for our day together?”
“Do I look okay?” She looks down at her pink sundress and flip-flops. “I didn’t know what we were doing, you said dinner, but you’re here now, and I didn’t know what to wear, so is this okay?” she asks in a rush.
Placing my index finger under her chin, I lift her gaze to mine. “You look beautiful. You have what you need?” I ask her, dropping my hand. I don’t know what’s gotten into