Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 107077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
For whatever reason, this guy is the exception to the rule. It defies logic how he’s managed to burrow under my skin like a nasty infection that’s in need of a steroid treatment.
Possibly two rounds.
When he remains irritatingly silent, I rip my gaze from him and glance at the girls. “Would either of you like to order?”
Neither of the blondes pays attention to me. One is nibbling her way along the thick column of Asher’s neck while the other strokes lethal-looking acrylics down his chest. It’s almost a surprise when the T-shirt doesn’t shred beneath her sharp claws.
“They’ll both have your hard taco platter with sides of rice and beans. And a couple glasses of water.” He squeezes them again. “Right, ladies?”
When they coo and laugh, it takes every ounce of self-restraint not to roll my eyes.
I stare at my notepad while jotting down the order. “And for you?”
A few more seconds and I can escape his insufferable presence.
“You know what I’d like? A little eye contact.”
I pause, lifting my gaze to stare even though it’s the last thing I want to do. “Excuse me?”
“I said, I like a little eye contact when I’m being serviced. Is that too much to ask?”
My mouth falls open. He really is an insufferable asshole.
When I snap my teeth, barely able to suppress the growl rumbling up from deep in my chest, he actually has the audacity to chuckle. I quickly glance around for my uncle. That’s the last thing I need.
When my attention returns to him, he’s tapping his forefinger against his lips as his gaze roves over the menu. “I’ll have four hard tacos, one beef burrito—you know what—make that two beef burritos. Three chicken enchiladas, and—”
I stop scribbling and glance up from the notepad. “Seriously? Aren’t you afraid you’ll ruin your girlish figure?”
He pops a brow as humor sparks in his eyes. “It kind of sounds like you’ve been checking me out. If you’re interested, I’d be more than happy to show you that there’s not an ounce of fat on me.”
My cheeks heat as I scowl. “Hard pass. Anything else?”
“Yeah, throw a couple chicken taquitos on there.”
I write down the last of the order before swinging away in relief. I hate how the air gets clogged in my throat, making it impossible to breathe whenever I have the sad misfortune to be around him. Sure, I’ll admit that Asher is good looking, but I don’t have time for guys who are under the misguided assumption that they’re god’s gift to the female species.
Actually, I don’t have time for guys.
Period.
I don’t get more than two steps before I hear, “Lola?”
I stiffen and grind to a halt before reluctantly glancing over my shoulder.
“I’d like a glass of water as well.”
It’s so tempting to give him the middle finger. Except I’ve done that before, and it didn’t end well for me.
I jerk my head into a tight nod and stomp away.
Since Taco Loco is close to campus and the food is delicious, not to mention reasonably priced, we get a ton of student traffic. Most of the college kids I wait on are decent. Sometimes we’ll get a group of guys who are asshats, but I’ve never had a problem handling them. A few well-placed snarky comments usually cuts them down to size. They’re like wild animals—as long as you don’t show fear, they’ll grudgingly respect you.
For whatever reason, waiting on this one annoys the crap out of me. Instead of dwelling on the reason for that, I shove Asher from my brain and focus on the task at hand. The faster I get their order to them, the quicker they can eat and get the hell out of here.
I fill three glasses of water and drop them off at their table. Even though Asher’s penetrating gaze feels more like a physical caress, I refuse to give him the time of day before taking off to wait on other customers. As I bustle around the dining area, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being watched.
Or maybe it’s just my imagination.
It’s a relief when I circle back to the kitchen and find their entrees waiting on the counter under the lamps. I shake my head, slightly awed yet sickened by the sheer volume of food Asher plans on consuming. If he actually eats all of it, we’ll have to call Guinness World Records. And if I’m really lucky, he’ll explode, and I’ll never have to tangle with him again.
Wouldn’t that be nice?
It takes two trips to bring out all the food. The blondes are barely able to stop pawing at him long enough to eat their meals.
I just can’t with these girls.
“Is there anything else I can get for you?” I ask, ready to sprint away.
Asher’s gaze stays locked on mine. “Nope, I think we’re all good.”