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If looks could trap a man, he was a goner. He hadn’t missed Max having a similar reaction. Why, the corner of his mouth had even curved up a bit, revealing a trace of emotion.
God damn, what eyes.Never seen anything like them.
Good manners, along with the knowledge Max also seemed interested, kept him from instantly asking her out. It pained him to do so, but he sucked it up and told her he wanted a long-necked beer. He liked that she didn’t mind a little teasing. In a job like hers, it was easy to get caught up and feel hassled when anyone did anything out of the box. When he tossed out one of his odd statements, people either got upset or it made them laugh, which was his intention. This lady laughed, both with her lovely mouth and those blue eyes. Simone was racking up bonus points in his book at an incredible rate. Even if she didn’t see what a great couple they could be, her being there would make the beer taste that much better.
While he waited for his beer, Rafe laughed at himself. It was okay to act like a teenager in love when you were a teenager, but hell, he’d been through war and knew better than to believe in love at first sight. Besides, there was Max… “What do you think of our waitress?”
Max frowned. “I didn’t think of her at all.”
Liar. “Uh huh. I’m sure I saw your mouth move a tick. Must’ve had some reaction.”
Max glared at him. “She’s pretty.”
That was practically a sonnet coming from Max. Rafe grinned. “Yeah, sure is.”
“I just want a drink. Nothin’ else.” He glared at the table before looking away from Rafe, practically daring his friend and hacking mentor to challenge his assertion.
Deciding to let it go for now, Rafe leaned back. All he had to do was calm himself and take stock of the rest of his surroundings.
The bar wasn’t bad. The crowd looked like the kind of mix you’d expect in a place like this. Mostly regulars, with a lot of them just lonely guys who wanted to share a drink or six with their buddies. They’d be husbands and boyfriends and single guys, and there wouldn’t be many women in the bar.
He saw a couple of women in work clothes, probably part of a construction crew. Rafe liked that change in the culture, that you could find women doing good hard work. He liked the women who wanted to be accepted for what they could do on the job and not because they were women. There weren’t enough of them yet, but things were changing. For now, though, in this microcosm of America, there were just those two women, and Simone, his server.
Later in the night some hookers might come in, having struck out in more upmarket places and trying to ensure that the night wasn’t a total loss, but that was likely the extent of it. So, it was a regular, down-at-the-heels bar, with a waitress that he knew would lure him back.
Max watchedRafe watching the crowd for a moment, but that wasn’t terribly interesting. He saw his buddy and mentor watching the two women who looked like construction workers, but he didn’t think it was lust sparking his pal’s interest. Nah, Rafe was all eyes for their server. Even now, he was sneaking peeks at her as his gaze roamed the bar.
Not that Max could blame him. He wasn’t a man of many words, but he had a deep appreciation for beauty in all forms. His sister, Danielle, was a freaking artistic genius, as far as he was concerned, and maybe he’d gotten just a smidge of her talent, because he could see beauty in just about anything. Hell with creating it though. That was way beyond his work-roughened hands.
But yeah, he could appreciate the beautiful Simone. He was sneaking a few peeks himself, though he thought that might cause some conflict with him and Rafe. They were friends and had been for a few years, but he didn’t know if their friendship could weather fighting over a chick. Until now, he’d have sworn they both had dissimilar taste in women, but she was such a unique blend of elements that he supposed Simone would appeal to both of them.
He sighed softly, forcing himself to look away from temptation. She was pretty, but he wanted to learn Rafe’s hacking skills. It was important to him to have something to fall back on besides brute force or fast hands for card games, which could get a man killed if he went up against the wrong players, and he sure as shit wasn’t cut out for school. It had been miserable for him, with his dyslexia going undiagnosed until his senior year. Things had been better then, but it had been a miracle, and only ‘cause he’d promised Ma, that he’d scraped by with a diploma.
Simone was lovely, but she was probably out of their class anyway. If not, she’d surely go for a funny, gregarious guy like Rafe over a sullen, quiet hulk like him. It wasn’t worth putting his friendship at risk to take the chance his interest might be reciprocal.
Brad didn’t likethe look of the bikers who’d strutted in the door. No, he didn’t want bums like that coming into the bar he frequented. The place could go downhill. You get a couple in… More to the point, he didn’t like the friendly way Simone acted toward them, giving both a big smile when they sat down. And he especially didn’t like the look he saw in the dudes’ faces when they’d talked to Simone. The skinny guy was definitely hot for her. He’d run his eyes over her body, taking it in, and she’d just stood there, maybe even pulling her shoulders back a little to give him a nice look at her tits. The hulking behemoth had been harder to read, but he’d have to be dead or gay not to find Simone enticing.
Of course, Brad was well aware that Simone was worth taking a close look at. She was the main reason he kept coming back to Sam’s. The place was nothing to write home about, and the other patrons were mostly jerks. But Simone… She was petite and fit, with strong legs and arms. He’d heard her talk about doing some kind of workout thing several days a week. She’d even told him what it was, but he hadn’t paid much attention. Some kung fu shit, probably. He had to admit that when she’d told him what it was the words hadn’t stuck. No, he’d been watching her face—focused on the look of her lips when she spoke—fantasizing about those soft, moist lips and having to force himself to stay in his chair and not kiss them. Everything about her made his imagination run wild.
The problem was she didn’t like him. Somehow, he’d gotten off on the wrong foot with her, and he couldn’t break whatever spell it was that made it stick. He kept trying to show her that he was a smart and worthwhile guy, but she didn’t want to give him a fucking break. He’d even tried giving her fucking space, the way people talk about. For an entire hour he’d just sat at the bar and gotten his drinks from Sam. That sucked, and he didn’t even get any credit for the attempt.
That was bad enough, but now she was being really nice to these worthless bums from a motorcycle club. What the hell was that about? Okay, he knew she couldn’t treat them like shit if they were paying customers, but the bitch smiled atthem. She never smiled at Brad like that.
More people wandered in, dropping in for a drink as they got off work, mostly. Lots of construction workers from the building they were renovating down the street, a couple of guys who ran a roofing business out of their truck… the usual crowd.
Trudy, the other waitress, came in as the bar got busy. As usual, she took over tending bar and Sam came out and helped Simone with taking orders and chatting up customers. He liked to mix with people, including the bikers, who he paused to talk with for a long minute.
Brad caught his eye—raising his glass, telling him he wanted another. Sam nodded and said something to Trudy. She poured a double whiskey, and Sam brought it to the table.
“What’s with the fucking bikers coming in a working man’s bar, Sam?” Brad asked.
He had his eyes on Simone as she went behind the bar and pulled a bottle of beer out of the cooler and popped it open.
Sam was a large man, a retired prizefighter, a light heavyweight who’d actually saved some of what he earned in the ring. “I had a plan,” he’d tell anyone who asked, with obvious pride. “Day one, my first pro bout, I was thinking about my plan.” After a reasonable career with moderate success, he’d retired and bought his dream bar.
He jerked his thumb toward the bikers. “You mean Hacker and Ace?”
“Who else?” Brad hated it when people acted like he wasn’t being clear.
