Page 9 of Silver Edge
I scanned the bar for the next customer, but they’d all turned to watch the show.
“I like you,” Drake shouted over the bass guitarist.
I couldn’t think of a snarky comeback with thethu-thump, thu-thumppounding in my ears. A thought formed. I opened my mouth, but he slid from the stool and walked away. Not just any kind of walk—a hip-swaying, firm-ass, I-know-how-to-move-more-places-than-the-dance-floor kind of walk.
I closed my eyes to calm my overactive hormones and shut my mouth that was still hanging open, trying to form words. After being celibate for a year and running into such eye candy, this was going to be tough. Hopefully, he wouldn’t be around much. Otherwise, my promise to my Straight Edge family would come to a quick demise. I knew where the slope of promiscuity led from experience. A quick one-night stand worked better for me than love and relationships. But I wouldn’t survivethatpath again. It was worse than alcohol or drugs. This time I’d be lost forever.
Chapter Four
Cymbals crashed from the band’s last song, accentuating my pounding headache. With no beat or organization to the song, it grated on my last frayed nerves.
Shwalack.
Hawaiian tossed a rag at me, the damp sludge smacking into my chest. I removed it and wiped down the bar, but it left behind a sour odor. Ugh, I’d have to go to the laundromat. This definitely wasn’t going to come out with dripping pipe water that smelled of sulfur. “Hey, Hawaiian. What was the owner thinking with that last band?”
He scanned the empty dance floor and shrugged before I spotted Drake strutting into the room.
With a huff, I ignored him and his swaying hips. I wiped down the sticky, liquored bar. “Seriously? Is the owner trying to lose his business?”
Drake slid onto the bar seat with a wicked grin. “Why do you say that?”
I fixed my attention on his dark eyebrows, the safe zone, where it looked like I was making eye contact without actually having to do so. Unfortunately, the way his eyebrows danced the tango, I imagined him dipping me back with a flower between my teeth.
Abstinence sucked.
“It doesn’t matter.” I rubbed the rag over the bar top and crinkled my nose to stop the intrusion of stale beer and sour dishtowel. Okay, so the job wasn’t ideal, but it was better than most.
“Tell me. I’m fascinated. I went to marketing school, so I’d love to know what you think. I mean, you’re right. The owner doesn’t seem to have a clue.” He cupped his hand to the side of his mouth as if to whisper a secret. His full lips moved to say more, and I was lost to their alluring motion. “You can tell me.”
I shrugged and squatted to clean a few crushed plastic cups off the dingy, stained floor. When I stood, he was in my space. In front of me, towering above me, breathing my air. His aroma teased. It wasn’t some cheap cologne that usually made me gag, but a mild, calming scent, like his movements. Poetic. Non-threatening. Inviting. His closeness didn’t make me want to cower away. “I-I…”
He cupped my elbow and pulled me closer. “Come on, out with it. What does the wise new bartender have to say?”
I straightened, refusing to retreat from his advance. Refused to retreat from his warm, soft touch on my elbow, his warm breath on my cheek, his closeness. Maybe I was getting better? Able to handle people. Or maybe it was just him. “The first two bands could hold a tune, but the third one tanked by their second song. And the last band. The last band sucked. It’s as if last week three old geezers got together in a garage after coding at their day jobs and decided to form a band. Two practices later, they played here.”
The front door slammed. “I’ll meet you outside in a bit,” the bouncer called to someone in the hallway on the other side of the large space.
I lowered my voice. “Not to mention the bartender across the floor drinking more shots than he served, the ticket man abandoning his post for a booty call, and the bouncer exchanging free admittance for drugs. If you own a business, don’t you stick around to manage it?”
His gaze traveled the length of me with that familiar, hungry, testosterone-filled expression men perfected. It only flashed. By the time his tongue finished swiping his lips he regained his controlled composure. He pushed his shoulders back but put his flirtatious dimples into play. “You don’t think too highly of the owner, do you?”
Hawaiian tossed another bottle into the trash with a loudclank.
I jumped then scowled. “Listen, you asked. I told you. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got work to do.” I maneuvered around him and kicked several cups into a pile.
“That’s right, you’re the new bartender,” Drake said more to Hawaiian than to me.
“She’s the best we got.” Hawaiian’s words blurred by at breakneck speed with that welcome-home voice. The man made a great partner. He didn’t smell bad or make weird noises or touch me.
Drake pivoted to face Hawaiian. “Is she now? Did you hire her? I didn’t know you had the authority?”
Authority?As in boss?
Oh my God! I’m such a frickin’ idiot.I paused halfway to the floor to pick up the litter. My breath squished into a tight ball and lodged in my gut.
Drake hopped off the stool and crowded me. “Ah, Sunshine. Caught on, I see.”
My face burned. I knew my cheeks’ color matched my name. I stood. Ignoring the zing through my body, the one that made my senses rise a thousand degrees past the temperature of my embarrassment showing on my skin. “Listen, man. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean no disrespect.”
