back and caught him checking out her behind. Turning back, she pushed her anger aside and slid onto the empty stool, thanking the hostess. Breathing a sigh of relief that a woman was seated on either side of her, she relaxed, and again opened the plastic-coated menu.
A shrill laugh cut through the noise of iron trays clattering, dishes rattling, and voices calling out for drinks.
“Stop it! I’m gonna pee my pants!” a female shrieked.
Swiveling on her stool, Ashley took in the three men and four women seated in a booth against the wall. The man facing Ashley had his head turned toward the laughing hyena—whose low-cut blouse left little to the imagination—saying something that made her fall into a fit of giggles. Ashley recognized her as the woman she’d met at Blue’s Belly—the one who loved to talk. What was her name? It’s just on the tip of my tongue…
Then Ashley recognized the man—Smokey.
Leaning back against the counter, she shifted a bit closer to the woman on the next stool, and watched him. A pretty waitress sauntered over to his table and offered him a dazzling smile as she squeezed his right shoulder with her pink-tipped fingers. Winking at her, he said something that made her giggle, causing the blonde to pout. As the other women at the table leaned toward him, the curly-haired hostess sashayed over to join them, seeming to want to get in on the fun. And by his bright grin and comfortable manner, Ashley could see he was enjoying every bit of the attention.
She couldn’t really blame the women, because Smokey was one sexy package. The man oozed raw sex appeal and power, giving off a bad boy vibe in spades. And with those magnificent ebony eyes, dark hair, hot-as-sin physique, and gap between his two front teeth, it was no wonder women were so infatuated. The way he smiled at each one of them as they clamored for his attention would make most melt on the spot.
Ashley sighed heavily. There’s no doubt about it—Mr. Sexy is a major heartthrob, and he knows it. How many women have you left pining for you long after you’ve moved on? Just then, as if he knew she was checking him out, Smokey looked over, his gaze latching onto hers. Ashley’s heart raced. For endless moments, they stared at one another, until he winked at her and turned his attention back to the bubbly blonde.
Jealously sliced through her so suddenly—and unexpectedly—that a loud, “Oh,” escaped past her lips. Swiveling back to the counter, she chugged down half her water to cool the anger that had shamefully possessed her. Why the hell do I care who he’s with? He’s just my boss on this project and nothing more. Nope, I’d be nuts to get involved with that arrogant Casanova.
“Have you decided what you’d like to eat?” a waitress in her mid-thirties asked. The woman’s top three buttons on her pink uniform dress were undone, revealing a little slice of her beige brassiere.
“Uh …” Ashley scanned the burger section of the menu. “I’ll have the Santa Fe Burger, medium-well.”
“Fries?”
“Sure, why not?”
“You want a side of chili with that?”
Ashley handed the menu over to the waitress. “No, thanks.”
The woman whirled around and walked away. Slapping the order onto the dolly, she spun it around, yelling, “Santa Fe, MW. Fries.”
“Got it!” the cook yelled back at her.
A few seconds later, Ashley heard the sizzle of her burger as it hit the grill. As much as she wanted to turn back around and see what was going on at Smokey’s table, she forced herself to read the chalkboard above the service area, listing the available homemade pies. For a split second, she’d even contemplated starting up a conversation with the woman seated next to her.
“Smokey, you gotta come by and watch me dance,” the blonde, whose voice she recognized, said.
Ashley gripped the counter, her knuckles turning white.
“Maybe,” Smokey replied.
“You have to,” another female voice whined.
“What about me watching you dance?” a male voice growled.
“We know you’re gonna be there, Bones, so why would we ask?”
Smokey’s low laugh washed over Ashley. “She’s got you there.”
The waitress set the plate down in front of her with a clunk. “Santa Fe, medium-well.”
“Thank you,” she mumbled while placing the napkin on her lap.
Pointing to Ashley’s empty cup, the server asked, “You want coffee?”
“Yes, thanks.”
Ashley checked the tin of creamer to make sure there was enough milk as the waitress filled her cup.