Page 35 of Stirring Attraction (Second Shot 2)
“That must be some case file. But I’m glad he’s helping you.” Noah smiled as he handed her a printed list of drink orders. “I’ll tackle the Bloody Marys”—which she didn’t have a clue how to mix—“if you handle the mimosas.”
She turned and reached for three white-wine glasses.
“Lily.”
The first glass slipped through her fingers, but she caught it before it shattered on the floor. Then she turned to her new customer. “Ted. What a surprise.”
The man, who’d dumped her before their relationship fully launched into boyfriend/girlfriend territory, claimed a barstool across from her. His long, narrow face offered a concerned expression. She had a feeling he used the same carefully planned look at parent-teacher conferences.
“How are you, Lily?” he asked. “Are you OK?”
She’d received the same question minutes ago. But Ted delivered his with a boatload of pity versus sarcasm. Of course, the man sitting across the bar hadn’t heard her scream “Yes! Yes! Yes!” through the walls. She’d caught a few of the customers looking at her with a question in their eyes—what’s in the back room? And can I visit?—when she’d first walked out, but not Ted.
“I’m fine,” she said. “Can I get you anything?”
Please say no. Please leave and stop raining on my orgasm parade.
Not that one climax constituted a parade. But she had hope for later tonight, after Dominic searched her home for potential threats . . .
Wow, her idea of foreplay needed work. After they
caught this guy, after things returned to normal in her life, then . . . but no, Dominic would be gone again by then.
“A cup of coffee if you have it,” Ted said, and she could practically feel the rain clouds moving in. “I might have a beer later. I thought I would stick around and keep you company.”
But you broke up with me and my “fears.”
“Sure, but I have to keep up with the drink orders.” She turned her back to him and reached for mimosa glasses. Ted could wait for his coffee.
“If you’re pouring coffee, I’ll have a cup too.” She glanced over her shoulder and saw Dominic sliding onto the stool beside Ted. He held out his left hand. “Dominic. I don’t think we’ve met before. I’ve been away for a while and you’re new to the area.”
“Nice to meet you.” Ted gave his hand an awkward shake.
She turned her focus back to pouring not-so-equal parts champagne and orange juice into glasses. After keeping these customers waiting, they deserved a little extra booze.
“Sorry, I’d offer my right hand, but it’s not a pretty sight right now,” Dominic said.
Her brow furrowed as she added the OJ. She’d seen his hand up close. The skin was damaged from where the bullet had gone through, but she’d been under the impression that he was more concerned with the loss of his fine motor skills.
“I cut it on a broken piece of mirror,” Dominic continued.
Her grip tightened on the juice bottle. And she waited for him to add the mirror our mutual friend over there broke while she came against my hand. . .
“Hey, Noah,” Dominic called. “Do you have a Band-Aid?”
“First-aid kit is in the back by the dishwasher,” Noah shot back. A side glance at her boss and fellow bartender for the night told her that Noah was moving fast to pick up her slack.
She turned her attention back to the drink ticket. Three mimosas—check. Two bottles of light beer—
“You know, I’m not sure a Band-Aid will work,” Dominic said. “Would you look at how much blood has already seeped through this rag?”
She whirled around in time to see Ted’s face pale as he stared at Dominic’s right hand, wrapped in a red-stained bar towel.
“Oh God,” Ted murmured, swaying on his barstool.
“Dominic,” she said. “Don’t do that. He can’t—”
Ted swayed back on his stool and Dominic extended his right arm to catch him.
