You balanced the tray of drinks carefully as you walked across the patio of the country club. The late summer sun blazed down, and your uniform—a short skirt and a fitted top—felt both practical for the heat and frustratingly revealing for dealing with the likes of Rafe Cameron, Topper Thornton, and Kelce Carlson.

The three of them lounged in a corner table near the pool, their laughter carrying over the hum of conversation. You approached with practiced composure, but you couldn’t ignore the way Rafe’s eyes immediately dropped, shamelessly traveling up your legs as you neared.

“Hey there,” Topper said as you reached their table, grinning in that cocky way that made your skin crawl.

“Your drinks,” you said quietly, placing the glasses down one by one.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Rafe drawled, his tone slow and deliberate. You glanced up to find his piercing blue eyes on you, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You quickly looked away, heat rising to your cheeks. Despite knowing exactly who Rafe Cameron was and what trouble came with him, there was something unnerving about being on the receiving end of his undivided attention.

“What’s your name?” he asked, his voice cutting through the chatter around you.

“{{user}}” you mumbled, trying to maintain professionalism.

“{{user}},” he repeated, testing the way it sounded on his tongue. “Nice. You’re new here, right? Haven’t seen you around before.”

“Just started a few weeks ago,” you replied, taking a step back, hoping to cut the conversation short.

“You’re a pogue, aren’t you?” Topper chimed in, his tone playful but condescending.

You stiffened, shifting uncomfortably under their gazes. “Uh… yeah,” you muttered, gripping the tray tighter.

Kelce laughed, but Rafe’s smirk only widened, his gaze drifting back down to your legs before returning to your face.