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“Was she good?”
I look him in the eye. “I’m good, and that’s all that matters. Now go home and get some sleep. I need you back at the bar tonight.”
“Avoiding?” he jokes as he stands up to leave.
“No. I cook on Friday’s, asshole, and the crowds are getting bigger, so I need you to back her up.”
“Sure thing. Tomorrow night I have a fight, so she’ll have to be backed up against you,” he says over his shoulder as he strolls out the door like the kid who got a stocking full of candy for Christmas. I’m so glad one of us can find humor and happiness in all of this.
Livi, crazy ass Livi, does not need to be backed up against me again. No matter how much I’d like to revisit that pussy right now, I won’t.
I’m in the back when Livi walks in. “I came early.”
I glance up at the clock and nod as I rub the second prime rib down with the Caldwell rub. “It’ll be dead for an hour, so it wasn’t necessary to come early.” I flip the beef over and toss some more rub on it.
“Don’t worry; I’m not stepping on Sally’s shifts. I know she needs the money for her kids. I told her when I walked in I wasn’t here for that.”
“Well, what are you here for?”
“Well, I just…” As she stops and rubs her ass, I can’t help looking at her.
She is sexy as fuck, smells like heaven, and looks all put together, but the girl is fucking quirky as hell.
She looks up, and I look away. “I’m dedicated and determined to pay off my debt.”
“I didn’t doubt that, Olivia. I just don’t want awkward.”
“That makes two of us,” she says, blowing her hair out of her eyes. “Thank God your brothers don’t know. I mean, I was trying for a week to figure out if it was Jagger that I, umm, I—”
“You thought it was Jagger you fucked?”
She holds up her hand again, like a fucking traffic cop stopping me. For some reason, I let that shit go. “Sex. Had sex,” she retorts, and I shrug. “What, is there a problem with that, too?”
“Livi…” I put the roast in the pan and wipe my hands off on a bar towel. “You can say it anyway you want to.”
“But you prefer to say it in such a crude way,” she half-whispers, but I can tell she is trying to be assertive. I heard my mom use the same tone when she was talking to my old man.
“Not trying to be crude, Livi.” I put the roast in the oven then turn around. “No disrespect, all right? No judgment, either. You and I were both there. You and I both let go. The only difference between you and I is that I obviously have more experience.” I pause, trying to choose my words right, not something I am used to doing. I look up at her and lean casually against the counter. “I think fucking is better than having sex.”
Her eyes widen. “So you think…” She stops and starts chewing on a finger nail. Fuck if I don’t wish it was my lip she was chewing on.
“Go ahead; don’t hold back on me. If this little arrangement is gonna work out, we need to look it in the eye and own it.” I sure as fuck want to own that hot, little ass at least one more time before she is done working for me.
“Did you think I was…?” She covers her face and doesn’t continue.
“Okay, look, Livi, I enjoyed myself, you enjoyed yourself. It was fucking hot. We’re adults and, Livi?”
“Yes?”
I reach over and pull her hand away from her face. “Consent was fucking given.”
She looks mortified. I laugh, and then the cutest shit happens. She laughs, too. Thank fuck.
“So, we’ll be okay? You and I working together will be okay?”
“You tell me.”
“Well, if I’m reading you right, you don’t think I’m some, um…” A blush creeps over her face. “I’m not a whore.”
“Neither am I.” I give her a wink then turn to grab the third prime rib out of the fridge. “It’s gonna be dead around here for an hour; you don’t need to stick around. I think you got the answers you were looking for.”
“Yeah, thanks. But, if you don’t mind, I’d like to hang out. I brought a book, so I could just read.”
“You like this place that much?” I laugh.
“It’s warm.” She snorts, covers her mouth, blushes, then reaches in her bag and grabs a book.
“Your place not warm?”
She shrugs and doesn’t respond. She simply sits and reads.
I try to ignore the fact that she is in the room, but I find myself looking at her way too often. Although I notice the book reads Grief on the cover, I make it a point not to engage in a conversation about that topic. Fuck that.
