Yvonne’s had been extremely busy for a Wednesday night. I hadn’t been as clumsy tonight as during the last few days, but I still wasn’t thinking clearly. That kiss with Brian was still front and center in my head. For two solid days, I could think of nothing else. I guessed that was a good thing—but also not. I had a hard time paying attention to customers and my surroundings, and I certainly wasn’t sleeping well. I hated sleep anyway—too many nightmares. Andie and I were back in the dorm, and the noise from the girls on our floor was distracting as well. I had taken a late midterm exam this morning, and I knew I hadn’t done well.
My phone buzzed as I was collecting my purse from my locker in the waitstaff lounge. Fran had left a message, and I felt sick that I hadn’t returned her call. I knew she wanted me to attend the banquet, but she also longed to see her dad and me together.
I did want to support her on her big night and hoped she would win that coveted scholarship she so desired. But it would be too painful to see Brian.
His name on the screen had my hands shaking. I debated whether to answer Brian’s call. Maybe he’d changed his mind about us.
I took a deep breath and answered. “Hey.” My throat was clogged with nerves.
“Grace,” Brian said in an even tone, “I understand Fran invited you to the banquet. Are you coming?”
“Do you want me to?” I removed the clip from my hair then combed my fingers through it.
He groaned. “It’s not about what I want. Fran would like you to be there. Don’t disappoint her because of me.” He sounded angry.
I rubbed my hand over the dull pain in my chest, feeling like a selfish bitch. Fran didn’t deserve to be affected by whatever was going on between Brian and me, which was nothing.
“Grace, are you still there?” That raspy voice of his was sending sparks to a place where I sometimes pleasured myself.
“I have schoolwork to catch up on,” I said weakly. “But I’ll think about it. What time is the banquet?”
“Tomorrow night at six,” he said. “If I were you, I would head down first thing in the morning to beat the snow. Oh, and Grace? Fran wanted me to tell you that the attire for the evening is semiformal.”
“Good to know.” I had plenty of dresses from past charity galas that Dillon had hosted to raise money for his shelter.
I was about to ask Brian to recommend a hotel when he hung up.
A silent scream blared in my head.
I went in search of Brittany and Andie. Tonight was one of those nights when we hung out after Yvonne’s closed and chatted to catch up on things.
“Hey, Paul, are Britt and Andie in the library-themed dining room?”
The bartender bobbed his head as he served a patron. “Grace, do you have a second?”
I backtracked. “Sure.”
Paul, a man in his early fifties with salt-and-pepper hair, had worked at Yvonne’s forever and was the sweetest man I knew. He always went out of his way to help any of the servers, mainly imparting his wisdom to us. I wished I had a father like him. My life would’ve turned out so differently if I had. Or if my mother hadn’t left her four children in the hands of a monster.
Paul flashed his hazel eyes at me. “Drew here”—he regarded the man at the bar, dressed in a preppy orange golf shirt and khakis, who looked as if he’d just gotten off a sailboat or golf course—“says that Grace means ‘goddess of charm, beauty, and creativity.’ Is that true?”
I slid between two stools, my forehead wrinkling as I zeroed in on Mr. Preppy, a man in his forties with blond hair and ice-blue eyes. “You’re talking about me?”
Drew gave me a blinding smile, as if he knew me but hadn’t seen me in a long time. “Not at all.” He touched his G-shaped gold-and-diamond earring. “My mother’s name was Grace, so I was telling Paul the meaning behind the name.”
The hackles on my neck shot straight up for a moment as I focused intently on him. That gold Rolex on his wrist spiked my heart rate to off-the-chart levels. But he didn’t look like that homeless man who’d knocked on my window the night I was speeding to rescue Andie. And he definitely wasn’t Zane. Yet I felt like I needed to run from him—and fast.
As difficult as it was, I put a smile on my face. I couldn’t be rude to a customer. “I’ve never looked up what my name meant.”
I found it odd that a man in his forties was wearing an earring in honor of his mother. Sweet but weird. But maybe not if he was a momma’s boy. Then I noticed his dirty nails. Another redflag in my book. A preppy, rich man kept his hygiene in tip-top shape. Or, at least, those patrons who dined at Yvonne’s did.
“Your mother and father must’ve picked the name because of its meaning,” Drew said.
“I mean, you are beautiful.”
“My boyfriend thinks so.” I tossed out the lie in case he was trying to pick me up. Blonds might be my type but not men like him. I liked them tall, broad, and badass. Not lanky and giving off a vibe that made me want to take a shower.
Paul regarded me with a confused expression until a light bulb came on as his eyes widened briefly. “Grace, tell the girls I’m closing up thirty minutes early. It’s inventory night.”
