Page 4

He leans close and I get a whiff of his cologne, a light musk that has hints of cedarwood and pine. His voice is low and deep as it reverberates over my skin. “Call me.”

My mouth drops open. He is not asking me out. He can’t be. “I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t…. Mr. Kincaid has strict policies.”

From the corner of my eye, I see Mason Kincaid step back into the room. I wince. Am I about to be in trouble? I cannot catch a break. “Triston? What’s taking you so long?” he calls across the room.

Then Mason catches sight of me. My shoulders curl. This is all wrong. I’m supposed to be setting up tables. I don’t know Mason very well, but he’s so intimidating and I can feel Mr. Stanley’s glare burning into my back. “Honeyeh, is my business partner giving you trouble?”

“Honeyeh,” Triston repeats. “Interesting name.”

I put his card in my pocket, taking a step back. I need to get back to work before I get in trouble. “It’s Persian. My mother…” My hand flutters as I see Mr. Stanley’s arms cross. Crap. Crap. Crap. “My apologies for dallying, Mr. Kincaid. I will make certain the tables are set very quickly.”

“It isn’t your fault, Honeyeh, I can see Tris was distracting you.” He comes to stand next to me, and my hands clasp together. I’m caught in a trap. I can’t leave this conversation without irritating my benefactor, but I have to get back to work before my direct boss gets really upset.

“Actually, I was about to offer her a job, because I can see she is an excellent employee,” Triston replies before I am able.

My head snaps up, as our gazes collide again. A job? That’s why he wants me to call him?

“She is wonderful. Which is why I can’t allow you to steal her.”

I swallow. Did I think I was caught before? Now I’m stuck between two titans. “Mr. Kincaid has been most accommodating, giving me off-hour shifts,” I murmur. “And thank you for the offer, but I should get back. Mr. Stanley…” I wave my hand back toward the irritated floor manager.

Mason doesn’t notice my hint. “I wish I could do more. I know how difficult the weekend hours are for childcare.”

Mr. Stanley is forgotten. Because the most gorgeous man I’ve ever met, Triston Smith, is learning all the intimate details of my life. “My brother is old enough…”

Triston Smith looks at me with an unwavering stare that makes me want to dip my eyes to the floor. It’s filled with something I don’t understand, but it makes me want to squirm. “If flexibility is what you need, I have a position within my house that is very flexible.”

I take another step back, wringing my hands. “There are a great many doctor’s appointments. I?—”

I can’t work for Triston Smith. I’d never get any work done. I’d end up making a complete fool of myself. I’d…

“Call me,” he says and then both men are striding off, leaving me standing alone, my hands still clasped together.

I look up to find Brian and Mr. Stanley wearing matching looks of annoyance. My stomach drops.

Mr. Stanley waves me over, his brows drawn together. “What was that?”

“Mr. Smith asked for a glass of wine.” Not true but close enough.

“So you direct him to one of the servers. You don’t stand there chatting while the rest of the crew fills in for you.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stanley. It won’t happen again.”

“No. It won’t. I don’t need your help tomorrow night, Honeyeh. And you can take the rest of the night off.”

I feel the tears prick at my eyes. “Are you firing me?”

“No. I can’t fire a Mr. Kincaid hire.” So he’s just not going to give me hours. Inside, frustration kicks at the walls of my stomach.

But there is no point in arguing. With a quick nod, I turn to leave, trying not to cry. His “not firing” me is as bad as just letting me go. I can’t pay medical bills without shifts.

I start for the back room swiping at my eyes. Brittany falls in step next to me, wrapping her arm around my shoulders. “Don’t listen to them. They’re both just pissed you’re too hot for them. And the boss-boss paid attention to you. What’s Mason Kincaid like?”

“He’s fine, I guess,” I say, my voice wavering. “I’m more worried about Mr. Stanley. I really need this job.”

Brittany stops. “Give me your phone.”

“What?”