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As always when he spoke to me, he addressed my breasts instead of my face. "I think he's been in once or twice. Be nice to him. Don't charge him for coffee. Police discount."
I tried not to roll my eyes, and complied.
"Do you ever eat?" I asked Harris on his third day of stalking me out in the open.
He sat back in his seat, biting his lip. Something new had entered his eyes. Something I did not like. "That an invitation? You want to grab a bite to eat with me after your shift?"
I blushed, blushed like an innocent fool. I could tell he got off on it, and I wanted to kick myself. "I have a boyfriend," I muttered and hurried away.
He never did more than watch me. He never had the opportunity. Dante was true to his word, he dropped me off and picked me up every single shift. I was more thankful for it than I'd been anticipating.
After the first day of Harris eye-fucking me for three hours, he was there when Dante showed up to get me. The two men had a volatile stare down but that was it. Harris made sure to leave before Dante showed up again. He was oily slick.
It put me in a bad position. Harris wasn't doing anything, so there were no actions I could take to stop him.
I told myself that I was bothered by him because I allowed myself to be bothered.
I wanted to tell Dante about him, but how could I? It would prove his point, and besides and above that, there was not a damn thing he could do about it.
There were a few times Harris stepped over the line, but even then it was a tenuous thing, and in a game of his word against mine, mine meant shit to anyone that could've done something about it.
I was a few weeks into this. I was at that point where I hated it, but I wasn't done fighting for it; my cursed stubbornness at its most counterproductive.
Harris was doing his usual routine, inhaling bad coffee and unabashedly watching me.
It was a particularly dead day, and the slowest part at that. There was a half hour window between the after school rush and the late dinner crowd where we rarely had more than three customers sitting at a time. On this day there was only one.
My stalker cop. I was refreshing his coffee when he said, voice low and dirty, "You sucked your boyfriend's dick today, didn't you? I can tell. Your lips are swollen. Was it this morning? You're living with him, right? Did you wake him up with your mouth around his cock?"
I'd frozen at the first sentence. Literally. I'd been pouring his coffee and I just kept pouring, overfilling the cup until it ran in a slow dribble onto the table.
I was mortified, face flushing in embarrassment and building temper. And he wasn't finished.
"Or was it in the car on the way over? Did he pull over to the side of the road and give you a throat-full right before he dropped you off for your shift?"
That made me blush harder, because it wasn't far off from the truth.
Had he been following us, or was it really that obvious?
"You're disgusting," I told him with heartfelt venom.
"Careful. Remember that you don't want to rile me."
I stormed away and refused to serve him for the rest of the shift. I just let him sit there, glaring at me.
Later, when I'd collected my composure and calmed my rage enough to talk about it, I told on him to my manager.
It fell on deaf ears. Or rather, ears that could not have cared less.
"Don't piss him off. The last thing I want is trouble from the police," was all he said.
Two strikes, I told myself. One more and I was quitting.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO
"Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage."
