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I shoved him again. “Just call off t
he fucking bet.”
Except he didn’t. And so...the night started with his stupid bet itching at my conscience.
“Any numbers yet?” Gam asked a half hour into our shift as I approached the bar with a list of drinks to fetch for customers.
I lifted my face to where he was watching me from behind the counter. “Huh?”
He rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers in front of my face. “Chicks. Numbers. The bet. Any of that ring a bell?”
“Oh, right. Yeah, no. No numbers yet.”
“Really? You must be off your game tonight. Hart already has three.”
“Does he?” I glanced around to a table where Hart was grinning down at the table of girls. The fucker. I narrowed my eyes at him before turning back to Gam. “Must be the musician thing?”
“Hmm.” Gamble eyed me censoriously, as if he knew better. Then he folded his arms over his chest. “I was sure you’d get something from the table you just served.”
If I’d actually been playing in Hart’s damn game, yeah, I probably would have.
I glanced back at them. “They all had boyfriends,” I said.
“And how the hell could you tell that?” Gamble asked. “You barely talked to them long enough to take their drink orders much less gain relationship statuses.”
I set my empty serving tray on top of the bar—a little too hard—and sent Gam a glare. “Why the fuck is this bet so damn important to you? Jesus, it’s like you’re trying to relive your bachelor years through me now, or something.”
“Excuse me?” Gam wrenched back at my outburst, and I realized I’d gone too far. Shit. “Christ, man. I don’t know what’s got your pussy so dry and irritable lately, but there is definitely something up with you. Now...what is going on?”
I leaned in to rest my elbows on the bar and then I buried my face into my hands. I just about told him everything, then. I don’t know why; I hadn’t discussed it with Caroline, but I was seriously fucking tired of keeping it from him.
“Or is it because of her?” Gamble’s question made me lift my face. I glanced over my shoulder to see Caroline passing clearance through the doorman.
My face drained of color.
Shit, shit, shit. What was she doing here? What if she learned about the bet? What if she thought I was cool with it and had willingly volunteered to participate? What if—
“Jesus, you really do have it bad for Hamilton’s woman, don’t you?” Gamble murmured.
“What?” I glanced at him, confused, until he pointed Caroline’s way again. That’s when I noticed Blondie was with her. The fucker really thought I’d been staring at her instead of his sister.
I groaned. This was not working. I opened my mouth to call off the bet with Hart and tell Gamble in no uncertain terms that I was not carrying around a flame for Hamilton’s woman when Hart cursed from behind me. Then he spoke up louder, saying, “Hey, Ten. I’m closing the bet, now. I got four numbers. Can you beat that?”
I glanced at him, scowling. “You’re stopping it now?”
When he nodded, I rolled my eyes. “You all piss me the fuck off. You know that?”
Fed up with the both of them, I whirled away from the bar and marched off. I wanted to go to Caroline, but I couldn’t. Which only infuriated me more. When she caught my eye, I kept walking, feeling shitty about having to blow her off.
I’d just taken an order from another table when Hart caught my arm. “Man, I didn’t know Caroline was going to show up tonight. I’d never do anything to hurt her.”
“Fuck off.” I shrugged him away and marched back to the bar to put in my orders. I made sure to stop at Lowe’s end instead of Gamble’s, though. As he fixed me up with a full tray to deliver to my customers, I glanced around the place. I spotted Blondie where she’d waylaid Ham and was greeting him with a hug and kiss. But Caroline was no longer with her. So I kept scanning. Where the hell had she gone?
When I finally spotted her, she’d already found me. She strolled through the crowd of people and tables as she headed in my direction, and dear God...I had no idea she owned a skirt that short, or top that tight and low-cut. My insides heated. I wanted everyone else in the place to just disappear so I could lay her out on top of the bar and feast upon her.
But Gamble called out her name and crooked his finger beckoning her to him. She turned away from me, and something inside me growled with displeasure.
I watched her skip to her brother at the other end of the bar. He crossed his arms over his chest as he spoke to her, probably giving her some kind of lecture. In return, she set her hands on her hips and said something back, something smart-mouthed and defensive would be my guess. But instead of growing pissed, Gamble merely chuckled and then reached for her to pull her half across the bar so he could hug her, which made her skirt ride higher up the back of her thighs to damn near show the entire club what color of panties she was wearing. As she smiled and hugged him back, I glanced away.
