Chapter 8 : At the Diner

Rory’s POV

Scott didn’t seem to recognize me right away with my uniform and my hair pulled back. He came in and sat down at the counter while I was pouring coffee for another customer, which I nearly spilled all over the table out of shock.

My hands trembled as I walked toward the counter. What was he doing here? But then again, I was working at a restaurant near the school, so maybe it wasn't that strange for him to drop by for a meal after his class.

The moment I saw him, my mind flashed back to that night. Now, more than ever, I regretted having slept with him.

I tried to keep my thoughts in check as I got behind the counter, immediately turning my back to him and pretending to be busy with the fries.

"Excuse me, waitress. I need to place an order."

I pretended not to hear his voice, but obviously, that wasn't possible.

"Hello," he called again, making my heart race with anxiety. If he came over and tapped me on the shoulder, I knew it would be even more awkward.

I took a deep breath and turned to face him. "Hello, what can I get you?"

"Hey, Rory!" He opened his eyes wide in surprise. "I had no idea you worked here!"

“Wow, what a coincidence," I replied with a forced smile, pretending I had just recognized him. "What are you doing here?"

Scott looked around and gestured with his hand. "What do you mean? Obviously, I'm here to eat at a restaurant."

I frowned and crossed my arms. "This little restaurant might not be quite up to your standards. I mean, there are plenty of places closer to the school, so why'd you come here?"

Was he following me?

Scott seemed to read my mind, giving a slight smile. "I think you're overthinking it. Can I get a menu?"

Right, like my charisma would be that strong, I thought.

Scott's voice snapped me back to reality, and I hesitated for a moment before running to the kitchen to grab a menu. When I handed it to him, I couldn't help but notice that his style and demeanor didn't really fit in a small diner like this.

He seemed more like the type you'd find in a sleek office, negotiating with Wall Street executives in half a dozen languages.

My boss also noticed him and asked who Scott was.

"Oh, boss, he's a professor at our school. He's strict and really picky," I lied, hoping to avoid the awkwardness of having to explain my connection to Scott.

"I don't care what kind of person he is. If he's in my restaurant, he's our customer, and you need to treat him well. Got it?" the boss replied.

"No, I—" but my boss cut me off before I could finish.

He went over to Scott, politely smiling at him. "Welcome, sir. I'm glad you chose my restaurant. I hope you enjoy your meal."

"Thank you," Scott replied, standing to greet the boss, showing respect for the older man.

It was the first time since I'd met him that Scott smiled genuinely. He looked pretty handsome when he smiled, and suddenly, I was reminded of Friday night in his bed. My cheeks turned red.

"How's Rory's service, sir?" the boss asked.

Scott nodded. “Good. She's attentive."

The boss gave me a look, and I understood what it meant. I quickly grabbed the cutlery and set it in front of Scott. As I placed the plates and utensils down, I accidentally brushed against his arm, sending a ripple of nervous excitement through me.

"What's with your face? Why's it so red?" the boss asked me.

Scott gave me a knowing smile, which only made me feel more awkward. "Oh, it's just really warm in here," I stammered, covering my face.

"This girl's usually pretty solid, but she's all over the place today," my boss explained, heading back to the cash register.

"What do you recommend?" Scott asked, looking up from the menu. His blue eyes were mesmerizing and a bit dangerous, but I tried not to let them affect me.

"Our house specialty is the creamy strawberry shortcake," I muttered.

"Do you eat the food here too?" he asked.

I shrugged, feeling uneasy about his question. He clearly wanted me to talk more, but with the boss watching, I couldn't be rude.

"Okay," Scott said without getting annoyed at my lack of response. He handed me back the menu. "I'll have the steak. Oh, and a soda."

I pursed my lips, grabbed the menu, ignored the restaurant owner's disapproving look, then headed to the kitchen to place the order. I hid there while the chef cooked, trying to calm my nerves.

When I came back to the counter with the hot plate, my hands were still a bit shaky. I set it down in front of Scott and poured him a glass of soda.

"Hmm." He was obviously well-mannered, not speaking with food in his mouth. He finished the bite of his steak, looking quite satisfied. "That was delicious. Thanks for the recommendation."

"You're welcome," I replied as the boss glared at me from the register.

While Scott ate the rest of his meal, I kept myself busy—washing cups, wiping tables. In truth, I didn't have much to do, but I needed to look occupied to avoid making eye contact with him.

I felt like there were eyes on my back, as if he was watching me work, but every time I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, he was just eating like nothing was wrong.

It made me uneasy. I chalked it up to Scott making me nervous, but I had a feeling there might be something more to it.

***

Scott POV

A movement caught my eye, and I held my breath as a figure emerged from the kitchen's double doors. I almost didn't realize it was Rory until she caught my gaze and Rory became visibly uncomfortable when our eyes locked. She even tried to turn back into the kitchen but stopped when she realized it was too late.

“No, I'm not, listen we aren’t… what do you want?” she stammered out, clearly flustered by me.

I found that to be so cute. Lots of women usually turned into horny fiends, telling me how they wanted me to sex them up for hours, and it was always such a turn off.

Not Rory.

She stood speechless in front of me, staring.

Even in the plainest work clothes, she stood out among the ordinary crowd. I couldn't help but wonder how many guys noticed her.

She seemed super busy, always rushing around the place, darting here and there. We exchanged a few words, and then she had to rush off again. A delivery guy had just come in.

I watched her struggle to carry two large buckets, her expression uncertain. In theory, we shouldn't have had any intersection. After all, after what happened that night, I had already caused her some trouble.

Seeing her thin and weak body, with sweat dripping on her face, I suddenly remembered the scene of her groaning under me that night.

The urge to grab her with her throat and bend her over the stairs was tempting. What l wouldn't do to see her perfect, peach-shaped ass bare for me, the glistening juices of her arousal dripping past her slit as l pushed in with all my might.

I quickly took a deep breath and cursed myself as a jerk. I couldn't control myself from sleeping with her before, but now I still had dirty thoughts about her. It was simply shameful.

I walked over to her.

Rory was carrying a heavy bucket, wiping sweat from her brow as she prepared to lift a third one. I took the bucket from her, and she looked up at me, clearly surprised.

"Mr. McFarland?"

I saw her hands, red and sore from carrying heavy loads, and I couldn't help but frown. Where were her parents? Why was she doing such exhausting work?

I knew it was common for college students to work part-time and support themselves, but still, I couldn’t understand why someone like Rory had to do such grueling labor. If it were Needy, I’d want her to do something she enjoyed, not be bogged down by heavy lifting.

I couldn’t help but want to protect Rory, to understand what made her life this way. It made me want to know her, inside and out.

"Feeling worn out? You don't have to do this if you're tired," I said, noticing how much effort Rory was putting in.

"It's okay," she replied, giving me a cheerful smile that made it seem like all this hard work was just a normal part of her day.

"Here, take this," I said, offering her a handkerchief from my pocket. “Wipe off that sweat. Are all these supposed to be carried inside?" I pointed at the remaining buckets.

She nodded, indicating that everything had to be moved into the back. Without hesitation, I grabbed two of the buckets and headed toward the kitchen.

Rory gasped in surprise and quickly tried to take them from me. "It's okay. I can carry them myself," she said, reaching out to stop me.

I didn't say a word. I just kept walking with the heavy buckets, determined to help her.

When I got into the kitchen, I asked, "Is this where they go?"

The restaurant owner was busy slicing fries, not even looking up at first. He finally glanced in my direction and said, "Yeah, just put them over there."

But as he continued his work, he must've realized something was off, because he quickly looked up and saw who I was. His whole demeanor shifted in an instant.

He quickly set down whatever he was working on, rushed over with a big smile, and said, "Oh, you shouldn't be doing this, sir, I'm really sorry for the inconvenience." His whole attitude was polite and apologetic.

He then started organizing the area where the buckets needed to go, trying to make it easier for me. I took the chance to ask him, "If we finish all this, could she leave a little early?"

"Absolutely, absolutely," he replied without hesitation, eager to please.

The restaurant owner stared at the door, staring at Rory with a look of utter astonishment. "You know him?" he asked, his eyes wide with disbelief. "I just remembered he was on TV a while ago. I heard he's a really successful businessman, and he's loaded. I can’t believe that you actually know someone like him, and that you even got him to help carry those chicken buckets. No one in all of Phoenix would ever imagine Mr. McFarland doing something like that."

It was clear that the restaurant owner was reevaluating his opinion of Rory, likely thinking he might want to stay on her good side. I watched as he picked up his little notepad for inventory and walked over to her.

"Why didn't you tell me you know Mr. McFarland? You don't have to carry those heavy buckets anymore. I'll make sure someone else does that from now on." His tone became much friendlier, as he was clearly eager to show her some extra appreciation.

He continued, "You've always been a great worker, and I know you're just a part-timer, but here's what I'm gonna do for you. You've been making $15 an hour here, right? How about I bump that up to $18 an hour? How does that sound?"

After offering her the raise, the restaurant owner carefully sought Rory's approval. Rory looked completely taken aback. It was clear from her expression that the idea of getting a raise seemed utterly unbelievable to her.

She was delighted and quickly thanked the restaurant owner, who replied with a warm smile, saying, "No need to thank me. It's the least I can do."

I decided not to linger and avoided engaging in more conversation with Rory. Just as I was about to leave the restaurant, a phone call came and I stepped to the side to answer it.