35 Stanton was getting heated as the young Greek-American waiter at the neighborhood coffeeshop down the street from his place hit on Sammi. In front of him. And he couldn’t do much about it other than glare at the little fucker. Normally, he’d have laid claim to Sammi but his hands were tied. In the end, he broke and moved over to the other side of the booth and crowded her against the wall when waiter boy came back with their food. He wasn’t being subtle, by any means, and she smirked at his display of ownership. Not that he felt an ounce of remorse. He didn’t. Especially when her eyelashes began batting like butterfly wings after he stretched his arm across the back of the booth or leaned over to pick food off her plate. He was close enough to see the rapid pulse at the base of her th