Chapter 16

Tripp

“I know it’s busy as hell if you’re helping serve,” I say to Anya as I clear off a table.

“Gotta help out when and where we’re needed,” she says, smiling as she carries the burgers a few tables over.

She’s right. This may not be my dream or my goal in life, but I’ll always help. I’ll always be there when my family needs me. That’s the thing about being an Atwood, we go above and beyond for each other. If you need help, we all show up.

Just like when Felicity was pregnant and couldn’t get ahold of Shepherd. We all rushed over to her house to be with her and help her in any way we could. And when she got the call he was in an accident, we all rushed to the hospital to be there for Felicity and Shepherd. When I think about that night, it reminds me just how close we all are.

I sigh, wiping down the table as I think about disappointing my family. There’s an obligation to be here and I wish I was programmed differently. I wish I wanted it as badly as the rest of them do. I don’t want to disappoint anyone, which is why I still haven’t mentioned my book to any of them.

I’m just not ready.

Once the table is clean, I carry the bus tub of dishes to the kitchen and put them in the dish pit. The kitchen is loud and active with servers grabbing their orders. The sound of dishes clanking, food sizzling, and shouting from all angles. We’re in the middle of dinner rush and this is the time for work, not chit chat. I value the times when I can stand around and shoot the shit with my older siblings, but now is not that time. We’ve got a packed house.

Even me.

I bus the tables, put the dishes in the dish pit, and move on to helping servers carry out the food they need help with.

“Tripp, can you please go bring two beers to table seven? Trudi has them waiting at service bar,” Anya asks, grabbing a plate of food.

“Sure thing,” I say, rushing to help.

I grab the new beers and carry them over to the table. “Here you go,” I say, placing them down and taking the empty ones. “How is everything? Anything else you need?”

“Everything is delicious and you are all always so attentive and helpful. That’s why we’re here at least once a week,” the lady says with a genuine smile.

“I’m so glad to hear that. If you need anything, I’ll be walking around, so just give a shout.”

“Will do,” the gentleman says.

I grin as I carry the empty pint glasses toward the kitchen. Most every customer that comes in always has wonderful things to say and they are polite and happy. That’s not to say we don’t often get an occasional asshole every now and then, but the good ones outweigh the bad.

I continue to help serve food, clear tables, and charm customers with my personality. I’m not a cocky guy, but all of us Atwood’s possess a certain je ne sais quoi . It’s in our DNA.

Gabby, one of the servers, grabs my arm as she passes by. Her eyes are wide as she stares at me. “Tripp, can you please help me? Table thirty-two was just seated and I still need to get table thirty’s order in.”

I nod, grabbing her hand. “Relax, I’ve got this.”

“Thank you,” she rushes out as she races to the server station.

I chuckle as I head toward the table. Not because Gabby is overwhelmed, but because I'm not stressed out even among all this chaos. I thrive in it. I’m not sure if it’s from growing up in a house full of endless chaos, oftentimes so loud that you couldn’t get a word in. Or if it’s because my head is always full of noise from characters that demand me to tell their story. Either way, these busy nights at Atta Boy make it easier for me to work.

“Welcome to Atta Boy. Oh, hey Oliver, what can I get you, buddy?” Oliver Moore is here, alone.

“Hey, I’ll have a Kunt Kicker IPA, but I’m with someone and I’m not sure what she wants,” he says, looking at the menu.

He’s here with someone? Like a date? Like a business meeting? Like a family thing?

It can’t be Millie, right?

My stomach knots up as anticipation grabs tightly around me, clawing at my throat. I want to ask him but before I can even convince myself to do it, I know. I feel her presence before she even reaches the table.

Millie. My little bunny, hopping around with Oliver Moore.

“Here she is,” he says, standing up to pull out Millie’s chair.

He’s a gentleman, so what? I’ve heard stories of his not so gentlemanly behavior. Trust me.

“Thank you,” she whispers, keeping her eyes cast down on the table. “Hey, Tripp.”

Oliver snaps his fingers and laughs. “Tripp, that’s it. I was struggling to recall your name. I’m sorry, man,” he says, sitting back down with a cocky grin.

“It’s cool. Brock is the Atwood dating your sister, not me,” I say with my very own cocky grin aimed right at him. “Anyway, what can I get you two to drink? We’ve got some special drinks tonight that you might be interested in.” What I’m about to do is a dickhead move, I know that, but I’m seeing red. Not to mention I’m pissed she actually thought I meant it when I told her to go on a date with him. Maybe in hindsight, I should’ve kept my mouth shut, much like I will probably be thinking later. “How does a Screaming Orgasm sound? Or maybe a Creamy Pussy? The always popular Sex on the Beach or Dirty Martini? Or one of my favorites, the Leg Spreader?”

“Damn, well I already ordered my beer, but maybe…,” Oliver’s words fall away as he casts a glance at Millie.

Millie on the other hand, her face is beet red and she has lifted her eyes to mine. If looks could kill, I’d be dead.

“We’ll both just have a beer,” Millie says, grabbing her menu, and opening it to block my view of her pretty face.

“No problem. I’ll be as quick as a bunny and hop on over to get it,” I say, stepping away from the table.

I know I’m being childish, but I can’t help it.

As I walk toward the bar, anger tightens around my chest, making it difficult to breathe. How the hell could she not realize that what we have is something good? It’s not just about the damn orgasms. How the hell can she not see that?

“Patrick, do me a favor. Grab two beers and drop them off at table ten for me, please,” I ask one of the servers.

“No problem,” he says.

I let out a sigh as I scrub my face.

“Is that Oliver Moore with Millie?” Brock asks.

I didn’t even notice him standing by the bar and now I regret coming over this way.

“Yep,” I say, keeping my back to Millie and Oliver. I don’t need any more visuals.

“Are they on a date or something?” he continues.

I shrug, grabbing a bottle of water from behind the bar. The rush has finally slowed down and I’m not sure if I’m pissed or grateful for the small breather.

“Yeah, it’s a date,” I say before chugging down my water.

“Christ, I don’t want Oliver and Millie together. That’s too fucking weird. I’d be having family dinners with my new girlfriend and my ex-girlfriend. How serious do you think it is? Is it like the first date or what?” Brock rambles on.

And my heart squeezes inside my chest. Of course, Brock wouldn’t want Millie dating somebody he’s close to. He doesn’t want to see her every day for the rest of his life. Another reason why Millie and I could never work.

I cut my eyes away from Millie and settle them on my brother. “Brock, I don’t fucking know.”

It’s all too much for me to handle right now. The girl I’m pretty certain I’m falling in love with is on a date with her ex-boyfriend’s new girlfriend’s brother. Now say that three times fast. Now if that damn tongue twister wasn’t enough, I have literally just heard my brother say that he doesn’t want to have family dinners with Willow and Millie, new girlfriend and ex-girlfriend, because it would be too weird. So, not only is my fucking heart-shattering in my chest at the thought of losing Millie before I even have her, but now I know my brother wouldn’t be cool with it if I did date Millie.

Why the fuck is this happening?

“It won’t work out with them. I don’t know what I’m worried about,” Brock says, breaking my thoughts.

“What? How do you know that?” I ask, trying my best not to sound too eager for the answer.

He shrugs, staring at Millie and Oliver. “She’s a little too innocent for him if you know what I mean.” I narrow my eyes and he shakes his head. “I don’t mean it as an insult at all. She’s sweet and shy. She loves her books maybe a little more than she actually likes real people. She doesn’t mind spending time alone and Oliver Moore couldn’t be more different. He loves the nightlife and spontaneity. He reads as much as you do and I know he’s looking for someone who can put him in his place. Millie would never do that.”

“As much as I do?” I ask, pretending I’m not taking offense to his words.

He barrels out a laugh. “Yeah, which is never.”

I want to correct him. I want to tell him how fucking wrong he is. He doesn’t know Millie like I know her. And apparently he doesn’t know me either. But Millie is nothing like Brock thinks. She’s full of life and loves spontaneity. She does love reading, but she loves talking to people more than anything. She may seem sweet and shy, but that little bunny is a naughty girl with a mouth to prove it. She’s fucking perfect and any guy would be lucky to be with her.

I snap my head toward their table and stare at her while she listens to Oliver talk. Any guy would be lucky to be with her, she’s fucking gorgeous. She’s everything any man could ever hope for and there’s no chance in hell that I’m going to allow another man to have what I so desperately want.

Millie is mine.

She might not know it yet, but it’s about damn time she does. The hero of my book would never sit back and allow the woman he has feelings for to be pulled away from him.

So why the fuck would I?

Game’s over, little bunny. I’m fighting for what’s mine.