Got the Life (A Nicki Sosebee Novel) (5 page)

The tallest one, a lovely shade of brown with smoldering coal eyes,
brown hair,
and clean-shaven face, smiled back, his teeth a startling white.  “What would you recommend,
señorita
?”

Oo
h
,
she was going to
love
waiting on this table, unless, of course, they only wanted the bar.  This hot guy was already playing the game.  This was going to be fun.  “Me?  I’d get a large pie and a pitcher.  But that’s up to you, of course.”  She made eye contact with his friends, as well, so they wouldn’t feel left out, but she ended
with her eyes back on Mr. Tall
-
Dark
-
and
-
Fucking
-
Hot.

He looked at his comrades.  “Well, guys, pizza sound good?”

Both of his companion
s nodded, apparently the strong but silent type
, and Nicki smiled again.  She reached to the menu stand at her left and pulled out three menus.  “Right this way, please.”  She could feel their eyes raking over her entire backside and she felt chills.
  Oh, yeah, she’d get a really nice tip out of this table…providing the kitchen didn’t fuck it up for her.  She couldn’t complain, though—the new head cook was finally getting his shit together, so last weekend was better than it had been in quite some time.
  Tonight would probably be okay too.

She led them to the last empty seat in her section
, a quiet booth near the front
.  “Hey, could we sit over there instead?”

Shit.
  The short blond
e
guy in their group pointed over to an empty
table
in Mandy’s section.  Not only would Mandy wind up screwing up so badly that Nicki would have to cover her anyway, but
Nicki
also wouldn’t get the nice tip
these guys were certain to leave
.  But…the customer was always right.  “Sure,” she said, making sure her smile was as wide as it should be.  After they got arranged and she passed around their menus, she said, “Our specials tonight are Fettucine Alfredo with a house salad or the Meatball Grinder with
kettle
chips.  I’d like to point out our appetizers on the first page of the menu and recommend the breadsticks.  I promise you you’ve never had breadsticks like
Napoli
makes.  And we have a variety of beers on tap, including Coors and Michelob.  If you’d prefer, we have a number of microbrews as well, featured on the back page.”

Hot guy looked up from the menu, teeth gleaming, and asked, “What would you recommend?”

She smiled.  “Well, I’d start with the breadsticks with marinara and a house salad.  I’d probably either get a pitcher of Coors or a
bottle of
Fat Tire Amber.  And then I’d get a large
thick
crust pizza.  I’d probably get the
Everything but the Kitchen Sink
, which has no fewer than five meats and six veggies.”

He looked at his friends who barely nodded their assent and said, “That’s what we’ll have, then.  Make it a pitch
er, but I’ll take a Fat Tire too
.
”

Nicki winced.  She said, “Mandy will be your waitress, but I can put in your order for you.”

Hot guy said, “What?  You don’t want to wait on us?”

Nicki slapped on a large mock sad face.  “You’re not in my section.  I’m sorry.”

“Our loss, I guess.”  He paused.  “So what’s
your
name, Not-Mandy?”

She smiled again.  “It’s Nicki.  What about you guys?”

“I’m Carlos.”  He waved his hand across the table to first the blond
e
guy and second the hairy salt-and-pepper brunette who should have thought ab
out using some Just For Men.  “And t
his
is Jake and Eddie.”

“Nice to meet you all.  Enjoy your meal.
”  She smiled one last time.
 
“
Mandy will be with you shortly.”

Damn
.  Well, that’s what happened when your section was close to full.  She punched the order into the touch screen for the kitchen, then found Mandy spazzing out making two salads in the server area of the kitchen.  How that girl managed to consistently fuck up
and/or stress out
serving
only
four
tables at a time, Nicki would never know.  She kept hoping Mandy would quit one night and walk out, but so far, she’d stuck to it.  “Mandy, you have three at table twelve.”

Mandy looked up, pausing with the dressing ladle in hand.  “Shit.  Are you kidding?”

“No, but I already got their order.  Do you want me to take their drinks to the table?”

Mandy’s brows relaxed.  “Could you?”

“Sure.”  It would give her one last chance to flirt before moving back to her tables chockfull of families, couples, and old people.  The bartender was busy as well, taking an order from a customer at the bar, so Nicki poured the pitcher of Coors, then fetched a Fat Tire from the fridge and popped the tab.  She placed them on a tray, along with three frosted beer glasses, and walked back to Mandy’s table.  “Here you go, guys,” she said, placing first the bottled beer in front of Carlos.  And, my, oh my, he’d removed his leather jacket to reveal a smooth, well-defined bicep
with a
large
skull tattoo delicately painted on it
. 
Yum.
  Then she poured their first beers for them, starting with Jake, then Eddie, and finally Carlos.  “Can I get you anything else right now?”

Carlos set his bottle down after taking a sip of beer.  His eyes climbed from her waist to her eyes.  “Your number.”

Sweet Jesus
.  This guy was smooth and had caused—in a mere second—Nicki’s legs to melt into rubber.  This guy wasn’t local, though, that much she knew, so what the hell would he want with her number?  Maybe just to see if she was really interested?

She considered him for a moment.  No need to seem overly fucking eager and pathetic.  Then she smiled, whipped out her notepad, and scribbled
down
her name and phone number.  She ripped the page out and slapped it on the table next to Carlos’s beer bottle.  Before removing her hand, she said, “Guard this with your life.”  She smirked and winked, then turned around and walked to her section, checking to see how each of her tables was doing.

She didn’t dare look back. 
No way could she
dare
look over there—not yet, at least.

As the evening wore on, however, she looked over
at their table
on occasion and got some smiles.  Mandy finally got her ass in gear and brought them their breadsticks.  Closing time approached—ten o’clock—and Carlos and his guys were on their third pitcher, long having decimated their pizza.  She was down to four
of her own
tables who were either eating or finishing up, so she stood in the server area at the back of the restaurant, printing out the tickets of her tables
that
were done.

She felt her phone vibrate against her hip and pulled it out.  She didn’t recognize the number and wondered who would be calling her this late in the evening.  She answered it while tapping on the touch screen in front of her.  “Hello?”

“Is this Nicki?”  The voice was familiar, but she couldn’t place it.

“Yeah.”

“This is Carlos.  I wondered what you’re doing after you blow this joint tonight.”

She smiled. 
Shit—he didn’t waste any time
.  “That depends.”

She could hear his smile through the phone.  “On what?”

“On who wants to know.”  She paused.  “And why.”

She printed out the first ticket and began tapping on the screen again to pull up the next one. 
Had to remember to add two orders of cheesecake to it
…if she could concentrate.
  Finally, Carlos said, “Well,
I
want to know.”  His voice dropped a little and it sounded husky, sending shivers up Nicki’s spine.  “I’m leaving
Winchester
tomorrow and wondered if you’d want to give me a reason to come back sometime.”

Holy fuck.
  How the hell could she say no to this guy?  Well, she couldn’t.  “I won’t be done here till at least
ten-thirty
…” and maybe longer if Brian and Mandy sucked as usual.  “We could meet around
eleven
maybe.  Would that work?”

“How about you meet me at the lounge at the Winchester Inn
when you’re done
?”

She grinned and finished adding the cheesecakes, then made the next ticket print out.  “Okay.  I’ll see you then.”  And not only did she get Brian and Mandy to hustle so that
they were done closing by ten-thirty
, a first for those two, but she also ran to her apartment to shower.  She didn’t shampoo her hair, because she didn’t have time to redo it, but she sprayed some perfume in it
once she took it out of its ponytail
.  The rest of her, though, smelled like stale grease and garlic.  She
reeked
of
Napoli
, and the shower was essential
.  But by the time she was done, she smelled like vanilla.
  What to wear, though?  She eyed her little black dress
tucked
in the
back
of
the c
loset
, a little too snug and a little too short, but she figured Carlos would think it was just right.

Chapter Six

BEFORE LEAVING HER car, Nicki smeared some hot pink lipstick on her lips.  She checked in her mirror, relying on the streetlamp over her car to help her make sure she didn’t have any on her teeth.  She checked her entire face, then stepped out of the car, tugging on the dress a little so her
butt
cheeks didn’t peek out.

She took a deep breath, then walked toward the hotel entrance.  The glass doors slid open as she approached, and she looked around the lobby until she saw the sign on the left pointing toward the lounge.  Her three-inch black heels clicked on the tile but there was no one around to notice.  A woman stood at the desk
,
but she was on the phone and didn’t look up.

Nicki arrived at the door to the lounge.  It was dark inside, but her eyes quickly adjusted.  She spotted the bar and saw Carlos, sans his friends, nursing a beer.  He was talking with the bartender who seemed to be enjoying a quiet evening.  Nicki could see only three other people in the bar.

She approached the stool and Carlos looked over.  Was that really a look of shock on his face?  “Nicki?”

“Hey.”

“
You look
ravishing
.”
  Ravishing?  Nice.
  That was the plan.  She slid up onto the stool.  “Would you like a drink?”

She thought she might.  Let’s see…he’d had several beers by this point, so she might
want
something a little stronger to catch up.  She didn’t want to
drink too much, though, for several reasons.  One was she had a lot of work to do tomorrow.  Two was she didn’t want Carlos to not go for it.  She knew if she had too much to drink, he wouldn’t touch her.  Well, probably, but she didn’t want to take the chance.
  Guys could be funny that way.  They wanted you a little loose, but not too loose. 
“I think so.”  She looked at the bartender.  “What’s your specialty?”

He shrugged.  “How about a White Russian?”

She nodded.  “Sounds great.”

She looked over at Carlos who had been studying her collarbone, barely covered by a one-inch black strap.  His eyes met hers.  “So what do you usually do in this town for fun?”

If she had a dime for every tourist who asked…  “Depends on what you like to do.  I’m sure you already found the biker bar.”

“Bad Boys?”

“Mmm hmmm.  In the winter there’s skiing farther up the mountain
s
.  Hiking’s big—we have lots of trails.  In the summer, there’s rafting, and there are a lot of softball and soccer teams that play for fun.  A lot of people like camping and fishing.  Oh, we also have the water park.”

Carlos smiled again, a mocking look on his face, as the bartender placed Nicki’s drink in front of her.  “I asked what
you
do for fun.”
  Carlos handed several bills to the bartender.

Nicki sipped her drink.  “Ah, specifics.”  She took another sip.  “Well, I don’t have as much fun as I’d like to.  I work three jobs, so they keep me busy.”

“Guess I got lucky that you
found
time for me.”

A lopsided grin crossed her face.  “No, you just happened to catch me at quitting time.”
  She placed her hand on his.  “But I would have made time for you if your timing hadn’t been so impeccable.”