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“Trouble,” she chuckles at him with a narrowed gaze that makes my insides twist so hard that I can barely breathe as I recall her remark from the other day.
You’ve got trouble written all over you.
I don’t like it that she’s branded Harrison with the same label. Or that they’re so friendly, it makes me want to throw my lifelong friend out of my hotel. Maybe ban him from coming anywhere near her.
Harrison is a fucking player. I doubt he remembers who he had for breakfast this morning, let alone for yesterday’s afternoon snack. He treats women like they’re one of his five-a-day. Something that I still don’t quite understand since he’s so damn protective of his little sister.
“What’re you doing here?” I ask him, my feet taking me closer to Summer.
The scent of her coconut shampoo fills my lungs when she shakes out her hair and glances up at me, the pepper of freckles on her cheeks glowing on the backdrop of milky skin.
Pushing the peel from his mouth, Harrison throws it in the bin as he tells me, “I need to run something by you.”
“What did you do?”
“What?” he looks at me incredulously, and Summer bursts out laughing.
The vibration of her mirth brings her closer, and it takes everything in me—every fiber of my control—not to grasp her hip when she rocks into me. When I peer down, my eyes instantly zero in on the top of her breast. The lilac lace of her bra peeks from the scoop of the fabric.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck… I swear to God, she’s going to be the death of my sanity, my dignity, my composure…
The girl is fucking killer in every way. And while she walks away, I can’t hear a single thing that Harrison is saying. The growing distance pulls at me, making it impossible for me to look the other way while she’s in sight. Like a magnet, my entire being gravitates to the pull of her existence.
“Jesus Christ, dude, seriously…what the actual—”
“I’ll listen if you do me a solid,” I say, cutting off the curse so that Easton doesn’t decide he needs to learn a new word right now. It’ll be another bad parenting strike from Ellen that I can’t deal with. “Watch Easton for me tonight, and we can talk after I close the bar. We’re short-staffed, and unless I close the bar upstairs, Summer will be running this place on her own.”
“I could help Summer.” He grins, knowing it’s going to piss me off. “You know, since you’re too chicken-poop to make a move.”
“I don’t think so. You watch East, I help Summer, and then I’ll listen to whatever it is you need to work through.”
Blowing a raspberry into the air, he grins down at Easton. “What do you say, bud? Horror movie and room service?”
After Ellen’s comment about living in the hotel, his room service remark sets me on edge, and although I try to push it out of my mind, it’s all I keep mulling through for the rest of the night. Even when we’re at our busiest and the patrons are chatty as fuck because it’s Friday night and everyone is in great spirits.
Except for me, because all I can think about is the fact that maybe I am fucking up. I’m depriving Easton of something that will leave him lacking in the end. Perhaps I am as selfish as Heather. Her with her addiction and me with the business. The notion of failing him breaks my heart. It makes me sick to the stomach.
“Boss man?” Summer calls at me through the loud cacophony of the various conversations and the background music. “You all right?”
Looking around us, at the convoluted space that’s almost spilling into the lobby, I take it all in, weighing her question. This is all I’ve known. I’ve worked this place since I was old enough, and I don’t want to fail it either.
Nodding, I head to the other side of the bar where the crowd is building, and I focus on serving the patrons instead of ruminating over the clusterfuck that is my life.
* * *
The rush runs into the night, leaving me exhausted enough that I can’t argue with myself anymore. While I take care of the registers, Summer is cleaning up the bar. At the end of her shift, she always plays her own playlists. Normally, they’re chill and laid-back. However, tonight she has an upbeat mix on that’s all catchy pop she sings and dances to.
I’m entranced as she spins, drying the glass in her hand before she puts it away. The sight of her makes me smile, muting my berating thoughts so that all I can hear is her soft voice and the beat of the track.
“Wanna dance?” she asks, coming closer until I can feel the breeze of her movements.
“I…” I can’t remember the last time I danced with a girl.
“Before you say it—” Summer grins, swaying in front of me. “—everyone dances, and it’s guaranteed to make you feel good.”
Whipping the dish rag over her shoulder, she grabs my hand and lifts it, holding as she twirls beneath my arm.
The song changes, and her grin grows impossibly wider. “I love this song.”
