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Maybe he felt my stare—it wasn’t like I wasn’t openly ogling him—because he turned his head in my direction, and our eyes locked. His smile was slow, and I swore it held a hint of something that maybe wasn’t exactly professional… something that was akin to attraction as well.
Or maybe it was just my overactive imagination wanting something to be there that wasn’t.
Bishop came up to me, his smile now blinding and making these annoying little butterflies move around in my belly.
“Hey,” he said in that deep voice of his that could make my toes curled. “How’s your first night going?”
I tried to act like I wasn’t totally affected by him and hoped I wasn’t failing. “Good, actually. I haven’t screwed anything up… yet.”
He chuckled softly. “Even if you did, shit happens, but I’ve been watching you, and you’re doing really well with the flow of the bar.”
I was surprised he’d admitted to watching me, but tried not to act like that pleased me… a lot. “Thanks,” I said softly… and then cued the awkward as we stared at each other for a few seconds, as if the bar wasn’t packed and people didn’t need to be served.
He cleared his throat, and I did the same, thankful I wasn’t the only one who seemed to be caught in this weird vortex at the moment.
“So yeah,” I muttered and glanced at my pad, scanning the latest order I’d written down. I rattled off the drinks, not meeting his gaze again, because staring into those dark-brown eyes did funny things to me.
But I could feel him continuously glancing at me, his gaze so pronounced it was like an actual touch. I refused to look at him. He was just too consuming, and I had to focus. I knew if I let myself fall into his eyes, I’d be a flustered mess the rest of the night.
I noticed four new customers taking a high top in the corner. I instantly knew they’d be obnoxious. The quartet of college-aged guys stood behind it. They were loud and annoying, probably already drunk, so I prepared myself for… whatever they threw my way. And so far, that was their greasy smiles plastered on their faces and their glossy, red-rimmed eyes raking over me. But I’d dealt with little assholes plenty of times in my life and knew I could handle those four.
I pasted on a fake smile, put my confident face on, and headed over there. “Welcome to Lyrics,” I said and looked each one of them in the eye, something my father had always taught me so people knew you were sure about yourself.
The first one looked like an all-American, boy-next-door type. His blond hair was cut short, parted on the side and smoothed back. He had bright blue eyes that were of course glossed over and a little unfocused. They all reeked of alcohol as well, which I assumed as soon as I’d seen them. The other three were pretty much carbon copies of All-American, but their hair and eye color were of different shades.
But they definitely had the same arrogance, the same style of button-up shirts and pressed khakis. I had no doubt they wore matching loafers as well. They screamed money, or at least mommy and daddy money.
“Hey, you must be new,” All-American said with a grin.
His smile made me feel a little bit grossed out, as if it wasn’t a pleasant one but held some kind of alternate meaning, which I’m sure it did.
“We come here all the time, and I’ve never seen you here before.” He blatantly eyed me up and down, his gaze landing on my chest. “And I would have remembered you,” he murmured in a slimy voice.
I felt the need to cross my arms over my chest, but instead I straightened my spine and tipped my chin, letting him know I wasn’t intimidated by his disgusting appraisal. “Up here, buddy,” I said in a cold, detached voice. He looked at me, his grin still in place. “What can I get for you?” I held up my pad to jot down their orders.
He rattled off a round of beers, and I nodded, not saying anything else before heading back to the bar. I set my tray down and instantly noticed Bishop’s focus was trained on the high top where All-American and his friends were. His dark-brown eyebrows were pulled in almost a scowl, and I could see a muscle in his jaw working, as if he were grinding his molars.
I brought my own brows down low as I followed his gaze to the four college guys. But all of them were too engrossed in their conversation, their laughter loud and obnoxious, drowning out a lot of the noise at the bar.
Bishop scowled a little harder and then looked at me, that anger clear on his face turning instantly into a warm smile. My heart skipped a beat at that sight and how that sexy dimple popped up once more.
