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“I’m a big girl, Cam. I can take care of myself,” I assure him. “Knee to the balls, remember?”
He smirks. “That’s my girl.”
“Come on, you big goof,” I say, standing from my chair. “I spend enough time in this place. Let’s get out of here.”
“Hey, gorgeous, can I get a little help over here?” a drunk guy calls out.
The urge to roll my eyes is strong, but I hold back, instead giving him a flirty smile, the one that guarantees me a night of good tips. “What can I get for you?” I ask, stopping in front of him, where he stands at the bar.
His eyes drop to my chest. “What are you, a C?” he asks.
“Excuse me?” His question takes me off guard.
He places his hands up to his chest and acts as though he’s gripping boobs. “C no wait, a small D maybe?” He leans in closer, and I instinctively take a step back.
“Order a drink or move on,” I tell him. The flirty smile is replaced with a scowl that he’s too drunk to identify.
“I’d rather order a piece of you,” he slurs.
Fuck. This is the part of the job I hate. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, it reminds me that this is not my endgame and that I need to increase my efforts when it comes to looking for a job using my education.
“There a problem here?” a deep masculine voice asks. That voice, it’s one I will never forget. Eli. I turn to look where he’s standing next to the drunk guy, glaring at him.
“Hey, man. I need your opinion.” Drunk guy points to my chest again. “You think C or D?” he asks Eli.
“What the fuck?” Eli spits out. The next thing I know, he has the guy by the collar of the shirt and is lifting him off the stool that was holding him up. “Apologize,” he says. His voice is low and menacing.
“Chill.” Drunk guy attempts to laugh.
“You don’t get to fucking talk to her like that.” Eli tightens his hold. I can see the white of his knuckles as he grips drunk guy’s shirt tighter.
“Eli, it’s fine,” I say, trying to calm him down. Not only that, but he’s causing a scene. He turns his head to look at me, and there is fire in his eyes, but they soften for me.
“He doesn’t get to talk to you like that.” He turns back to the guy he’s holding suspended in the air. “I told you to apologize to the lady,” he seethes.
“S-Sorry,” drunk guy stutters.
Eli drops his hold, and the guy falls to the floor. “Is there a problem here?” the bouncer, who had to weave his way through the tables, asks when he reaches us.
“Yeah, he was being vulgar to Marley,” Eli explains.
Marley. I can’t remember the last time I’ve heard him call me by my name. The bouncer, Joe, looks to me, and reluctantly I nod. “He’s had enough,” I tell Joe. It’s odd that a fancy establishment like this has a bouncer, but this is wine country. And in wine country comes drunk guys like this asshole. Joe and his team are dressed to the nines and blend in. However, with the eyes-in-the-sky security system, they’re able to keep an eye on everything. I knew it was only a matter of time before he or one of the other guys showed up to defuse the situation.
“You’re coming with me,” Joe tells drunk guy. Joe is six foot five, maybe taller, and a wall of muscle. Drunk guy has to look up to him and decides that mouthing off to the giant isn’t his best option. “You good, Marley?” Joe looks from me to Eli.
“I am.” I offer him a grateful smile. “Thank you, Joe.” He nods and leads drunk guy away.
“Are you okay?” Eli asks.
My first thought is to snip at him, but he’s being… nice, and it’s got me off-kilter. “I’m fine.”
“What time do you get off?” he asks.
“Eleven.” Tonight, I have the early shift and don’t have to stay and do the closing routine. Thankfully. I’ve had my fill of The Wine Cellar and its patrons. Eli nods, and I find myself wiping the counter just to have something else to focus on. “Can I get you anything?”
“No.”
“What are you doing here, Eli? If you don’t want a drink?”
“I came for a drink.”
I furrow my brow. “You feeling all right?”
He chuckles. “Yeah, Bob, I’m feeling all right.”
I glare at him at the use of that ridiculous nickname. “Can we not be adults and drop the bully act?”
“Bully?” he asks.
I have to hand it to him. He looks genuinely surprised. “Please,” I scoff. “You’ve bullied me for years.”
“I have not.”
“Do you really want to take a trip down memory lane?”
“Eli? Eli Morrison, is that you?” a tall, leggy blonde asks, approaching him. She places her hand on his bicep and gives it a squeeze. “I heard you were back in town.” She licks her lips. “How about you buy me a drink?” she says, her voice sugary sweet, laced with just a little slur, telling me she’s had one too many glasses of wine.
