Heartless Player by R.C. Stephens
Seventeen
Rebel
“It’s crazy busy out there,” Holland huffs as she drops a bunch of dishes off at my station next to the sink.
“That means good money, right?” I say to her.
She doesn’t need to work here, which is the crazy part of her whole situation. Her father pays her tuition and expenses. She has so much pressure with her studies that I don’t understand why she puts herself through this.
“Yeah, I’ve made some crazy tips tonight,” she says. “Gotta head back out there. The football team just got here and they are pumped. I think they’re in the finals for the championships or something.” She takes a deep breath and then her whole body deflates. Holland knows as much about football as I do hockey.
Darren, the bartender and supervisor when Fred isn’t around, walks through the swinging doors to the kitchen. “Need you out there, Holland.”
“Where is Sophie? She’s like fifteen minutes late for her shift,” Holland complains.
“She’ll be here in fifteen, she just texted,” Darren answers.
Holland leaves and so does Darren. I am once again left with the quiet of the running water. My hands are immersed in the warm soapy water as I wash dish after dish. I really don’t find this job satisfying, even if I am grateful that I work with great people. I wonder what it would be like to work out front as a waitress. Darren’s been looking for extra help for the last couple weeks, but when I think of myself balancing on my prosthesis while carrying all those dishes and taking orders, the appeal deflates while my anxiety inflates. I would drop all the dishes and not get the orders in a timely manner.
I’m so deep in thought I don’t know anyone has entered the kitchen until a pair of muscular arms wrap around my waist from behind.
“Holy crap, you just scared the living daylights out of me.” I jump. Although I don’t see Wolfe, I take in his scent and know the feel of those strong arms around me.
“I missed you,” he says, surprising me.
“Seriously? What has it been, like five hours?” I ask.
“Does it matter?” he retorts and then presses soft kisses down my neck.
“What are you doing?” I squirm as I continue to wash dishes.
“I said I missed you,” he says suggestively.
“Someone could come back here and see us,” I say to him.
“Is there somewhere private we can go?” he asks, waggling his brows.
“How did you even get back here? Is Darren not on the bar?” I ask, because in order to get to the kitchen you need to pass through the bar.
“He’s out front taking orders. They have a big crowd of guys from the football team.” He presses another kiss to my neck, and oh, that feels so good. “Don’t evade the question. I want you.”
“Wolfe.” His name leaves my lips breathlessly.
He sucks at the skin beneath my neck, and tingles run down my body.
“Rebel, where can we go?” His tone borders on urgent.
I break. Not that he had a hard time breaking me.
“Let me just tell Matt that I’m going to the bathroom,” I say. “Stay here.”
I take off my gloves and wash and dry my hands. When I turn around, my breath catches as I take in Wolfe in a gray sweater that hugs his shoulders like a glove. His blue eyes watch me with intrigue and melt my insides. He adjusts his cock in his jeans, and thinking about how hard he must be makes me want to move faster.
I strut over to the kitchen door. “Matt, I’ll be in the washroom,” I say, just in case Darren or Holland come looking for me.
I walk back to Wolfe and take his hand, leading him into the dimly lit supply closet. The space has empty shelving and is big enough for the two of us.
“Good call. I wasn’t crazy about heading into the bathroom,” he says.
“I hadn’t planned on taking you to the bathroom,” I tell him. “That would be gross.”
“And this is why I like you so much.” That throws me off. This is supposed to be a hookup, so why is he saying stuff like this to me? Doesn’t he know it will make me want him more? But I can’t carry on the thought because his lips come crashing down on mine.