Fighting Heart: Fighting Heart Erotic Bad Boy Romance Series Book 1 by Nicole Hamilton Read Free Book Online Page B

about how well I could work this gig. I was going to turn it round.
    “Hey guys, welcome to Purdy’s the best night out this side of the river!”
    A couple of the guys looked up, and their eyes kind of latched onto me. It was okay. I’d worked there a week nearly, and I already knew how guys were when they were drunk. Most of the time taking a long appreciative look was accidental, especially when the alcohol was flowing. I kept my smile on and my positive mojo working. Two of the other guys looked up. One looked me up and down. “Alright!” he said. Neither of them smiled at me.
    “What’s your name?” said the cockiest one, the one with the short blond hair and quiff.
    “My name’s Ashley and I’m your waitress for the evening. What drinks can I get you, guys? Would you like a cocktail or a beer or something else?”
    The blond guy nodded and stared at me, with a little smirk in the corner of his mouth. I didn’t recognise these guys from Smiths College, and I was just beginning to feel uneasy. But I could do this thing. I could turn it round.
    “I’ll have a White Russian. And your phone number,” said the blond guy. The others made a school boy “whoooooo!” sound and laughed. I smiled but I didn’t laugh, and I could feel my smile straining.
    “That’s nice. How about a White Russian without the phone number?”
    “Not so cool, but fine, I’ll get your number later.”
    “Sure,” I said, ignoring him. I took the rest of the drinks orders, told them I’d return for food. I could feel them checking out my backside and legs as soon as I’d turned away. It felt so direct and impersonal. I’d been checked out maybe fifty times already tonight, and that was just the times I knew about. But that was all gently stolen glances, and mostly done with a sense of innocence or play. But to this table, I was nothing more than a slave girl with tits and thighs. This was going to be uncomfortable, but I wasn’t going to lose. They sank another round of cocktails before ordering food. When they ordered steaks, fajitas and surf n turfs, I was happy they were at least moving their evening on. But that was when the blond guy, who was looking meaner the more he drank, crossed the line.
    “Hey Ashley? So how can I get that phone number of yours?”
    “Nice try. We like to make all our guests welcome, but phone numbers are off limits, sweetheart.”
    He wasn’t a sweetheart. He was a bastard, but I was in business mode.
    As I turned to walk away with the order, I felt his hand gently seize my upper arm. It wasn’t a soft, sensual touch. It was ugly and invasive. I looked at him and couldn’t help reveal my anger and disgust. “Please don’t,” was all I said. I didn’t need a scene tonight.
    “Look. The girl is begging me!” said the blond guy, to a small round of pathetic cheers. His hand slid away and I took a step away from him in revulsion. “Ashley, you are just the hottest thing in this place. Come on, give me your phone number and then I’ll buy you a drink. I promise, I can make you a very happy girl.”
    Seriously? The guy was not so bad looking, but he was the biggest, messiest creep I had met in a very long time. I stood my ground, and kept my smile fixed, but there could have been no mistaking the tone in my voice.
    “Not. Going. To. Happen… alright then. I’ll go and get your orders. Enjoy your drinks guys.”
    I turned around and marched off like a steam train. Isabelle brushed passed me. “Is that guy giving you a hard time?”
    “That whole table are sickos. Do they think waitresses are all sluts or something?”
    Isabelle shrugged and went about her business. At eleven o’clock a familiar tribe appeared at the front door. It was the art crowd, Amanda, Brandon and the rest of his groupies. I looked over, and waved, my heart surging in a totally new direction.  Brandon waved back. I just hoped they would sit Brandon’s crew nowhere near table 12. I really didn’t want Brandon to