Bayside Billionaire

"Allie!"

Terry, the line cook, waves at me through the serving window. Sweat drips off his wrinkled brow, a scowl permanently plastered on his face. "Double order of chili fries! Take 'em to table five!"

"I'm on it."

You know those moments when you wake up and it's just not your day? Imagine that being every single day of your life. Add in eighteen years of textbooks, rules, and ridicule, and you've got the exact blueprints for a twenty-three-year-old server living in downtown Miami, Florida.

Normally I'd get ticked off over Terry yelling at me like I'm some kind of "newbie." You would think after working here so long that I'd be used to the degrading nature of servitude. But, for once, none of that mattered because tonight was my last shift at the Shady Pub. No more eyes gazing over my thick, denim thighs and plunging neckline as I try to serve a rowdy party of twelve. No more studying at 1 AM while old man Krego sings "Pretty Woman" on Karaoke Thursday for the fifth time in a row.

I, Allie Demarco, have recently become a free woman with an expensive piece of paper hanging on her wall at home! A new graduate with a sick set of research-and-development skills. And all that hard work and dedication landed me a simple office job at Ocean Tech. Not the most glamorous job you can have in this city, but it beats the smell of beer and boners by a mile. Maybe now that I'll have a decent paycheck, I can finally afford some new clothes. Maybe even some date clothes.

I pour a pitcher of water for table three and watch as a group of businessmen make their way to the podium. All of them stand there like they built the bar themselves, scanning it over to make sure it's worthy of their time and money. The shortest one bellows out their party number so the whole bar can hear they're a party of four. Why do the arrogant ones always stop here after work? The taller of the four men snags my attention, his hazel eyes mysterious yet sparkling in the dim lighting. Hannah, our hostess, leads them past me, her skirt flipping up with every perky skip for the men to enjoy. The tall one glances my way and I'm convinced it's the trick of the light as she walks up the ramp and leads them over to our scenic seating area. Out of my zone. Of course. Oh well, can't blame a girl for dreaming.

"Allie, get these fries over to the bar now!"

I grab the plate and glance back at the group. They're being approached by Cindy, the bustiest blonde in the Shady Pub's arsenal of servers. I wonder if any of those guys work at Ocean Tech. I wonder if any of them will be my new boss. I sure hope it's the tall one. I tear my gaze away from them and walk towards the open bar out front.

I stare at the beach bums lounging on the barstools. "Anyone order fries?"

"Right over here sweet cheeks."

I walk over to the drunk with the cut-off denim shorts and stained white tank. He smiles at me, a gap-toothed grin that screams anything but sexy.

"Allie!"

I count the minutes until I'm free from this prison and walk back to the serving window.

"Cindy said the Sanchezes are asking for you. Something about coffee?"

I glance over and see them sitting by the window. They shake their cups and wave for me to come over with eager, childlike smiles. I smile back and wave. "I'm on it."

I do my best to hide my annoyance as I walk over to the server's station. You do latte art one time and suddenly it becomes a staple. I grab the bottle of chocolate and a stirring spoon before making my way up the ramp. The guys in suits laugh and don't even glance my way as I pass their table, the tall one deep into his menu. I strut my way to the Sanchezes and they cheer as I approach them.

"Flowers?" I ask, knowing they only know so many words in English.

They nod, excited as I whip out the chocolate sauce and get to work. The guys erupt into fits of laughter and shouting but my hand stays steady. Pretty soon each cup has a chocolate flower and I'm being handed a ten-dollar bill as a tip for my artistry. It's not like I'm not going to miss some of these people when I leave for Ocean Tech. Maybe I should tell them I'm leaving. No, they won't understand. They probably think my latte art gets everyone excited and pays the bills. My mind is off in another land as I walk back to the serving station. I've walked up and down this ramp more than the floorboards of my own apartment. And yet, somehow, my foot catches on the lifted rug, sending the chocolate bottle right out of my hands. I stumble and reach for it, tripping over myself as I try to find my balance. The spoon clatters on the ground. The world is a blur of lights as my hands grab at the air for an empty booth wall. I lean forward to stop the momentum, slamming my lips into something soft. Warmth spreads over my entire body as my palms press up against strong muscles masked under a thick jacket and the faint scent of cologne. My eyes shoot open and are met with a pair of intrigued hazel swirls that I could stare at forever.

I grip the edge of the table and back away, clearing my throat. "Sir, I am so sorry about that."

The group of suits that sit with him smile and wiggle their eyebrows his way. Those hazel eyes pin me in place as a smile spreads across those sweet lips. "It's okay. I could use a few more surprises like that in my life."

His face is flushed, the tones of red peeking through that tanned skin. I glance down at his hands, rough and balling up the napkin in his lap. Anger? Or desire?

Cold, clammy hands snap me back to reality as Cindy stands behind me and grabs my arms. She smiles at the men, her voice soft and seductive. "Sorry about the show boys. I'll come back and clean this mess up in just a sec." She whisks me away from the scene, the open bottle of chocolate now a visible mess on the floor and the ghost of his lips still on mine.