One & Only (Canton) by Viv Daniels

a rich girl, despite the fact that he’d been “living in sin” with Lydia. I’d always wondered what would have happened if Mr. Darcy hadn’t stepped in and forced the marriage. Would Lydia have spent the rest of her life in secret, raising Wickham’s bastard children while he married some fine lady?
    If there was an invisible tattoo for girls like us, Lydia Bennet had it, too.
    I was able to put the thoughts aside as I finished my lab work for the week, but my mood was charcoal gray. It must have shown on my face, too, because I exited the lab, hardly seeing where I was going, and ran smack into Dylan.
    “Whoa, there,” he said, steadying me. “Everything okay?”
    “Fine,” I grumbled. “I’m just in a rush. My shift starts at ten thirty…”
    “Oh, right. How’s the restaurant biz?”
    I rolled my eyes. “Eh. Had some jerks in my section last night.”
    “Rough. Bad tippers?”
    “Zero tippers,” I replied. “Apparently some guys don’t believe in tipping the waitress unless she agrees to go home with them.”
    A cloud seemed to pass over Dylan’s eyes. “Does that kind of thing happen to you a lot?”
    “I’ll tell you when I’ve done this for a little longer. But according to my friend Sylvia, the answer is yes.”
    “I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “We’ve got to get you out of there. I’m going to keep my eyes open for any research assistant jobs.”
    “Thanks.” I shrugged. “It’s a learning experience. I should have realized anyone with a name as pretentious as Todd J. Hamilton Jr. would be a jackass. Note to self—always check out the credit card when they open a tab. If they’ve got a jerk name, expect jerk treatment.”
    Dylan said nothing for a moment. “I’m so sorry, Tess.”
    I didn’t need his pity. I just needed to get to work.
    ***
    Friday night at Verde passed without incident, and the Saturday lunch crowd was especially genteel, seeing how it was made up of all the locals who hadn’t gone out to the football game. As the afternoon waned, however, the patrons grew rowdier and the restaurant filled with football fans eager to celebrate Canton’s win. Half the booths held diners wearing Canton T-shirts and hats and jackets.
    “You’ve got table twenty-eight,” Annabel said as she swung by me at the prep table. “Six top. They asked for you specifically.”
    “Requests, already?” said another waitress. “Gee, someone’s popular.”
    I was baffled. I hadn’t been at Verde long enough to get regulars. I approached the table with no small amount of curiosity, and my stomach clenched as I recognized Todd J. Hamilton Jr., surrounded by some older people. But then the guy in the corner looked up and smiled at me. Blue eyes, dark hair. Dylan.
    I’d been complaining to him about his friend?
    “Hi, Tess!” Dylan said brightly. “Guys, this is my friend from Bio-E, Tess McMann. She just transferred to Canton this semester and unfortunately, she had to work during the game.”
    “Awww…,” everyone echoed sympathetically.
    “Tess, these are some Canton Chem folks I met at the last career day. You want to be friends with them in case you ever do get to come to the tailgates. They always have the best tent.” He winked at one of the older women, and she smiled.
    “Nice drinks, not the usual frat boy rotgut,” she said. “I’m Kathleen Hamilton, VP of Human Resources at Canton Chem.”
    “Nice to meet you,” I said.
    “And of course,” Dylan continued, “you know her son, Todd.”
    Todd wasn’t looking up from his menu.
    “Yes, Todd and I met the other night,” I said, passing out the menus.
    “I was a waitress when I was in college, too,” Kathleen went on. “Tough gig. Always jerks drooling all over you.”
    “You don’t say,” said Dylan, looking at Todd. “Sounds terrible. What kind of person would be so disrespectful to a woman who’s just trying to do her job?”
    “Exactly,” said Kathleen. “Well, Tess, if you ever want to