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“What?” I said, my throat dry, although I knew exactly what she meant. I glanced away, not wanting to appear like I was checking the man out.
“He’s gorgeous.”
Steve, a friend of Dan’s family who worked at the bar during the summer, turned to look at the man along with the rest of us.
“He looks like a hood,” Steve said, making a face of disgust.
“Hey,” Leah said, putting her empty tray down on the bar. “Don’t judge a book by its cover. He might be a really nice guy.”
“Huh,” Steve said and raised his eyebrows at me. “Looks like scum to me.”
I shrugged, and managed to finish pouring the drink order in front of me. Steve was the second bartender, and would be taking the last shift.
When the man approached the bar instead of taking a seat at one of the empty tables, I felt a sense of unease overtake me. For some reason I wanted to run, so I turned to Steve and wiped my hands on my apron.
"Take ove
r for a minute, okay? I have to get something out back."
Steve raised his eyebrows but took my place and continued to pour the drinks on my current order.
I ducked under the bar hatch, and made a beeline for the kitchen and the walk-in refrigerator. I didn't know why I wanted to avoid the man, but I did, every ounce of my being screaming that no matter how gorgeous his face and how hot his body, he was dangerous. Once inside, I leaned against the door, my eyes closed. The cool air was a relief and soon, my heart rate decreased a few beats and my breathing returned to normal.
Wow. He really spooked me. I had this sense of impending doom when I saw him.
I went to one of the shelves and fished around in a box of lemons and limes, choosing a few and leaving the refrigerator for the prep area where I cut them up methodically, trying to calm down, slicing a few twists of lime, a few wedges and a few slices as garnish. I knew I'd have to go back to pouring drinks but at least I'd be prepared.
“What are you doing in here?” Leah said, having followed me inside the prep area.
“I needed some bar garnish,” I said, my voice wavery.
“That’s my job, and there’s lots on the other side of the bar. Let me get that,” she said and tried to push me out of the way. It was her job, and there was garnish at the other end of the bar, but I needed to get away from that man.
She peered at me. “What’s wrong, Mira? Are you okay?”
I took in a deep breath. “Yeah, that customer who just came in spooked me.”
Her eyes widened. “You mean Mr. Hunk with the fuck-me face and to-die-for body?”
I nodded. “The very one.”
“He had that much of an effect on you?” A slow grin spread across her face. “Girl, I told you that you need to get some.”
I laughed, and a bit of my anxiety faded. “He’s a biker,” I said and shook my head. “He’s hot, but he’s a bad boy. I don’t need one of them on my books. The FBI checks all your associates when you apply, so not even going to think of it.”
“He’s no biker,” she said with a snort. “He’s wearing a huge Cartier on his wrist. Bikers don’t wear Cartier.”
“Now, how can you tell he’s wearing a Cartier?”
She winked at me and took the tray of garnish from me. “I know quality.”
I laughed, relaxing a bit. She dated day traders from Wall Street almost exclusively when we both lived in Manhattan so if anyone could identify a Cartier from a distance, it was Leah.
She took the tray and left, and I followed her slowly. Before I went back into the bar, I glanced through the tiny window in the swinging door and saw that the man had moved and was sitting at the bar directly beside my pour station.
Damn…
Steve was busy pouring a drink order when I returned. I tried to avoid the man’s eyes, but I could feel his gaze fixed on me.
