Dream of Us
Chapter Eleven

Ani’s POV.

I’ve just finished serving the customer when Gwen comes stomping over to me, her face is like a slapped arse.

“The hottie has asked for you again, he doesn’t want me serving him. He wants you.” She sighs and flips her hair over her shoulder. “Go get him, I’ll be pissed if you don’t jump at this chance, he’s clearly sweet on you.”

I feel my cheeks heating up after finding out that he wants me to be his server. My hands are shaking a little as I take my notepad and pen out. I head over to his table.

“Good evening, Sir. Do you know what you would like to drink?”

He looks up at me and I’m locked into his eyes again. It happens once more; I’m getting sucked into those army-green eyes again.

“Yes, I do,” he says smoothly, smiling up at me. “I’ll have a glass of the Argentinian Malbec, thank you. Have you been working long today?”

I’m thrown by his question. I buy myself some time by writing down his order, even though I don’t need to. It also gives me a chance to break eye contact and think properly again.

“Of course. Uh, yes, a bit. Had the breakfast shift and now this one.” I look up at him and quickly add, “I don’t mind, though. I like my job.”

He grins and leans forward, showing interest. “That’s good. How long have you worked here?”

I glance over my shoulder nervously, hoping Michel isn’t watching me chat with the hot customer. I’m okay, he isn’t around.

“Um, not too long, only a few months. What about you? Are you new to the area?”

Why are you talking to him, Annie? Get to work!

“Yes, I am,” he says, looking excited that I’m talking to him. “I’m glad I’ve found this restaurant.”

I take the opportunity to get out of the conversation without sounding too rude.

“So am I! Let me grab that drink for you.”

I rush off to get his wine and a glass of chilled water.

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Denali’s POV.

I give her my best smile when she comes back to my table. I fear that I was a little rude to her friend when I requested that Dyani be my waitress for the evening, but I need this time with my mate.

“Here you go, Sir,” she says softly as she sets down the glasses. “Do you know what you want to eat, yet?”

I have an idea of what I want, but I lean back in my chair and use the opportunity to talk some more.

“I’m not sure. What do you recommend?”

She hesitates and then smiles. “If you’re interested in starters, we have a wonderful special of pan-fried scallops and bacon. For mains, the confit duck and the mushroom risotto are really good.”

“What’s your favourite dish?”

The question seems to take her by surprise. She blinks and looks down at her notepad before glancing up again.

“Well, I’ve tried the arancini starter and it was delicious. My favourite main is the crab mac and cheese.”

I close the menu and hand it to her with a smile. “That sounds perfect, I’ll have both.”

“Are you sure? I can talk you through some of the other…”

“I trust your judgement,” I tell her honestly. “Besides, I love seafood. Crab sounds great.”

She gives me a shy smile. “I love seafood, too.”

I’m surprised that she’s still talking to me. I thought she’d be nervously looking for her boss or rushing off with my order by now. I’m not complaining, though.

“What’s your favourite? Mussels? Lobster? Salmon?”

She thinks about it for a moment. “I love salmon, especially with spaghetti. But I really like tuna steak, as well.”

“I love tuna steak. I’ll eat tuna straight out of a can, too.”

“Yes! I only need a fork,” she agrees with a laugh.

“I like it with vinegar.”

She scrunches up her nose. “Vinegar? Really?”

“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.”

She gives me a flirty smile. “Hmm, okay, I might have to try it.”

“Go for it, but you have to tell me what you think.”

Dyani puts her notepad and pen back in her apron pocket. “I’ll be sure to do that. I’ll get your order through, thank you.”

I’m disappointed that she has to go again, but at least we actually had a conversation, albeit a short one.

I wish the restaurant wasn’t so popular. The waitresses are busy catering to the needs of their clients. I wonder if I should have come later, there may be less people then. I’ll have to remember that for next time I dine here.

Tomorrow morning, I will come for opening time. I want Dyani to myself for at least five minutes. I’ll ask Sian if the waitresses ever meet up outside of the restaurant. If they do, I could get Sian to invite me as her plus one and I could have even more time with her.

It was all so easy when we were teenagers. She felt the pull and was inexplicably drawn towards me. She loved my attention, my eyes on her. Now, I can’t tell if she enjoys me watching her or not. She blushes and shyly tucks her hair behind her ears, but I’m not sure. I’m not used to second-guessing myself like this either, I hate it.

“Here is your starter,” she says jovially.

She sets down the small plate in front of me. There are three balls of arancini, cooked to perfection.

“Wow, looks great. Thank you.”

“Would you like anything else?” She asks and then leans forwards conspiratorially. “I don’t know about you, but I can usually eat a lot at dinner. I like to have these with our polenta chips. You can order them as a side.”

“Won’t they take a while to come?”

She brushes me off. “Not at all, chef will throw them in the fryer, and I’ll bring them out in a few minutes. Do you want them?”

“I’d love them. Thank you.”

I manage to resist the tempting wafts coming off the arancini balls as I wait for Dyani to come back with my side. As promised, she returns a few minutes later with a small bowl.

“Here, enjoy.”

I take the bowl from her, our fingertips brushing. She inhales sharply and I smile as if nothing happened.

“Thank you.”

She gives me a quick smile, wipes her hands on her apron and rushes off to the next customer. I dip the polenta chips in the arancini sauce, appreciating her recommendation.

I’m curious as to how she thinks she is human, when she has the metabolism and diet of a werewolf. She must be a source of great irritation and envy to her friends for constantly eating but never putting on weight.

I finish the starter in only a few bites. She was right about it being really good. She comes to clear my plates.

“Busy night, isn’t it?”

My pathetic excuse at conversation earns a sympathetic smile from her. She probably thinks I’m some loner, dining by myself, desperate for any kind of social interaction.

“It is, we’re usually busy most nights.”

“Are you open every day?”

“We close on Thursdays.”

“Do you work most days?”

She straightens up and wipes her forehead with the back of her hand. “Usually. I like money.”

I smile at her. “Who doesn’t?”

“Plus, I have no life, so work is a good time-filler.”

“I find that hard to believe, not someone as beautiful as yourself.”

Once the compliment is out, I wish that I can take it back. It’s too soon. I shouldn’t have said it, but it just slipped out.

I’ve ruined it.

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Ani’s POV.

The compliment takes me off-guard. I spot the panic flaring in his eyes; I think it just slipped out and surprised him as much as it surprised me. I’m used to customers flirting with me, it’s one of the downsides of this job. There’s something different about this man, though. Usually, when a customer flirts, they’re sleazy and it makes me feel gross or cheap.

The hottie’s compliment makes me feel flattered. It appears that he didn’t intend to say it to make me feel uncomfortable or even really to hit it on me, it was accidental. That makes it endearing in my eyes, and refreshingly honest.

“Oh, thank you,” I manage to blurt out finally. “It’s very true, trust me. I’ll be back in a bit with your main.”

I rush off from the table, giving myself the chance to breathe again. Gwen meets up with me as I take refuge behind the screen.

“He is so chatty with you,” she comments. “What did you talk about?”

I shrug, acting nonchalant. “Not much, mostly the food.”

“Keep it up, you might get a good tip. Or even better, his phone number.”

She saunters off before I can tell her to drop it. Michel comes up next.

“I noticed you talking to the man at table seven…”

“Yes, sorry, he’s a bit of a talker. It felt rude to shut him down.”

He nods, his lips pressed together. “I understand. From the look of his clothing, he looks well-off. Keep him happy and hopefully he’ll spend some more, maybe recommend a better wine after he’s finished his glass.”

That’s Michel, always thinking about the profits.

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