“Welcome to Margo’s. Can I get you another beer or some food?” I asked, focusing my attention on Evan.
Leveling that green gaze on me, he said, “Yeah, can I get a burger?” My pulse fluttered under his rapt stare. The man wasn’t cowboy enough for me, but he sure was something worth looking at. His dark hair and beard only helped to accentuate those fabulous green eyes. Now that I was up close and personal, I also took note of his lips. They were full, perfect, and very sexy.
“Hello?” he called out in a somewhat irritated tone.
“Oh, uh, sorry. What was that?” I asked, embarrassed to be caught staring.
“Food?” he clipped.
I started to apologize again, but instead, found myself saying, “Yes, what about it?”
“Can we order some or are you going to stand there staring at us all night?” Talk about rude.
“Sure thing, honey. What would you like?” I asked in a sugar-sweet voice. His green eyes narrowed in on me and I smiled. Take that Rock Star.
“I would like a hamburger.”
“On it?” I questioned.
“On what?” he asked, clearly getting more irritated by the second.
“What would you like on it?” I asked, carefully enunciating each word. His friends laughed.
“Kind?” I interrupted.
“Huh?” he questioned.
“What kind of cheese, dude?” his buddy asked for me.
Catching the female’s eye, I winked and she smiled.
“Fuck!” Evan hissed. “I don’t care. Just give me a damn cheeseburger with the works.”
Lifting my brows, I asked, “The works?” I wanted to make sure I’d heard him right.
“Yeeees,” he replied in the same slow tone I’d given him earlier.
Tit for tat, I thought, but answered, “Sure thing, doll. One burger with the works, coming right up.” This guy was a real twit. After taking the other orders, I quickly escaped to the kitchen.
“You’re sure he wants the works?” Sam asked.
Somehow managing to keep a straight face, I confirmed that the customer did, indeed, want a burger with the works. I left Sam mumbling behind the stove and returned to the bar, smiling all the way.
“So, what are they like?” Alex-Ann whispered.
“Chaz and his girl are nice,” I told her.
“I’m back,” Gretchen interrupted. “Thanks for watching my table.”
“Order up!” Sam called from the kitchen.
“That’s for table six,” I directed at Gretchen. Not even two minutes passed before the bar was interrupted by a loud commotion.
“What the hell is on this?” I heard shouted from across the room. My inner bitch gave a silent whoop and a fist pump and I had to bite back the urge to cackle with glee. Serves the shit-heel right.
A minute or so later, Gretchen called out, “Quinn, you’re needed at table six!”
Zeroing in on my smirk, Alex-Ann whispered, “What did you do?”
Ignoring her question, I slid out from behind the bar and made my way over to table six. Evan’s face was no longer pale, but more like the color of a ripe tomato. That’s what habanero peppers would do to you.
“What the hell did you put on this?” he wheezed between gulps of water.
“I’m sorry, you did say you wanted the works, didn’t you?” I could tell the guy wanted to blast me.
“He did,” Chaz chimed in, which earned him an evil glare.
“People are staring. Let’s go,” Evan grumbled.
“I’m sorry. Did I do something wrong?” I questioned, my tone filled with fake concern. Without answering, he scooted from the booth and walked out the door.