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“I’m your boss. Show a little respect,” he retorts. “And why am I making you nervous? Afraid I’m gonna catch you stealing and report you to Rogue?”
“Respect is earned, not given.” I have no idea what possessed me to give Waylon shit, but he’s getting on my last nerve. “And no, I expect you to report anyone stealing to Rogue, but you’re barking up the wrong tree. You hovering over me is causing me to make mistakes.”
“Pay attention to what you’re doing, and I won’t have to hover.”
It doesn’t do any good arguing with him because Waylon can be a giant asshole, and if he knows he’s annoying you, he’ll keep doing it. He used to leave me alone and bug everyone else, but now it seems I’m the only employee on his radar.
I bite my tongue, refusing to engage with him anymore, and continue to fill drinks. An hour later, we’re slammed, but Waylon is leaning against the back of the bar with his phone out, and he’s texting someone. He’s probably giving Rogue a play-by-play on what’s going on and complaining about my insubordination.
“Waylon, we’re getting backed up here,” Tony says as he grabs a bottle of vodka. “Think you can help us out?”
Shoving his phone back into his pocket, Waylon scowls. “I’ll grab some more cases of beer and bring them up.”
Time passes quickly, and before I know it, Tony is hollering ‘last call’. Tony finishes with the stragglers while I wipe down the bar and put another load of mugs and shot glasses in the steamer. Waylon stalks over to the door to lock it just as Rogue comes strutting in.
I can’t help but stare as he moves fluidly through the bar. Rogue is wearing a black Henley which is covered by his cut. His shirt is tight enough to encompass his muscles, and my mouth waters remembering our sexcapades. The way he watches me as he crosses the room makes me wonder if I have drool falling out of my mouth.
“Hey,” I greet.
Really? This man has fucked you senseless, and ‘hey’ is the best you can come up with?
Rogue smirks like he knows what I’m thinking. “Hey.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I own the place.”
I throw a rag at his face, but he easily catches it. “Smartass.”
“Skye.” Tony steps beside me interrupting our terrible attempt at flirting. “Is it cool if I head out? I have a date.”
I snicker. “You mean a booty call?”
“Rude. I can have a date.”
“At two a.m.? Tony, that’s what we call a booty call.”
“Fine,” he concedes. “Are you okay with me taking off, or do you need me to walk you to your car?”
“She’s fine,” Rogue growls. “I’ll walk her out.”
Tony raises his hands and backs up. “Okay… message received.” Before I can say anything, he’s gone.
“What the hell was that all about?” I ask Rogue.
Before he can respond, Waylon comes around the counter. “Rogue, you here to see me?”
“No,” he replies briskly. “Where were you?”
Waylon puffs out his chest. “I was counting the drawers. You’ll be happy to know we weren’t short tonight.”
“Good.”
“You can head out now, Skye,” Waylon says snidely.
Yeah, only because he didn’t find a shortage in my drawer.
“Waylon, you head out,” Rogue says dismissively.
