He moved closer.
I fled, going to check on a customer at the far end who I knew didn’t need anything. I gave him napkins anyway.
And then I turned to see Rhys had followed and was standing in my space.
Allup in my space.
Ignoring him, I moved to the side, but he put one hand on the shelf behind me to block my path. That was annoying enough, but he took it further by stooping to touch my thigh.
No.
Not just touch.
He squeezed it a couple of times as he smirked. Taunting me.
I kept my voice low and a smile plastered on my face because I was good at my job. To anyone watching—and I knew they were—we looked like we were having a moment. But there was nothing flirty about my threat. “If you touch my leg one more time, I will gleefully tear your third leg from your body and use it as a garnish.”
He gave an exaggerated wince that twisted into another cruel smirk. “All for you touching it, hellcat.”
My stomach sank as I was metaphorically dropkicked off that edge I’d been trying to stay on.
Rhys scanned my face, and his amusement died. “My office.”
“Can’t. Stuff to do.”
It was a lie. The Thursday night crowd had died down. Chuck had the bar covered. Three servers had the rest of the tables.
Technically, one had them covered while the other two seemed to be shooting pleading eyes Rhys’s way—like they were telepathically urging him to make cuts.
“Now,” he ordered with his focus locked on my face.
My blank face.
“Don’t like to repeat myself,” he added when I didn’t move.
I said nothing as I stared him down. But then he reached to touch me, and I couldn’t.
I just couldn’t.
Dodging his hand, I rounded the bar and went to his office while he followed closely. I knew what people would think we were off to do.
I need to make this fast so they think he finished in under a minute.
I smiled at the thought.
As soon as we were closed in the office, he demanded, “What’s going on?”
I didn’t speak as I grabbed his shirt at his chest and tugged him away from the door in case anyone was listening.
It was a safe bet they were.
Even with the distance, I kept my voice quiet. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Bullshit.”
“It’s not.”
“Something’s wrong.”
