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“Nothing for now, sweetheart, I’m waiting on an associate. Keep it up, and let me know when you’re ready for an internship. I know half the city and could find you a place that pays their interns well.”
“Will do! Thank you.” I hurried over to the bar, throwing a huge smile at the man behind it.
“You gorgeous, gorgeous gal.So glad you could make it,” my work husband, Charlie, quipped in his usual droll voice.
He was a tall, lanky guy with umber skin who always wore a jeff cap and bowtie to work. Customers loved him because he could talk and joke around with anyone. I loved him because he was one of my closest friends and the best drinking buddy I could ask for. Had a bad day? Got dumped? Needed to let off some steam? Charlie was the man I always depended on, considering he was the only man in my life, period.
“God I can’t fucking wait to go get hammered at The Cellar later, this place is already crazy and it’s barely 9:30,” he whined.
“Well, if you’re having work troubles, I feel bad for you hun. I got ninety nine problems but one ain’t this job,” I began to rap, until he lightly nudged me in the side, effectively stopping my freestyle. Fucking with him was too much fun.
“You’resofunny, Diana. You need to quit your job right now and become a comedian. Tour the world and share that sharp sense of wit and humor with the people, so we can replace you with another bartender and no longer deprive the world of your genius musical humor jokes.” He may have had a sarcastic sense of humor, but I knew he was kidding and our back and forth barbs kept me going through these long night shifts. “Girl, you didn’t even get the lyrics right.”
“Stop it, you’d miss me too much. I’m the only woman you can tolerate being this close to,” I teased as I shimmied past him in the cramped space behind the bar.
“I would enjoy having your ass rub against me much more if you were a man,” he admitted, “But, I can appreciate its thickness and bounce. It’s like you crammed two balloons full of Jell-O back there. I’m serious, you could make a lot more money shakin’ that ass around the corner at Bounce.”
I raised a brow at him, but couldn't bring myself to do anything but laugh. Stripping at Bounce would earn me more money, but it would tank my law career before it even began. Charlie always made me feel like less of a trash gremlin. “I couldn’t even get in the door at Bounce, let alone dance there. Do they even hire curvy dancers?”
“Yes. They do, and they makebank.Dee, the sooner you act like Diana Ross and less like Princess Di during the 90s, the sooner you’ll have the world at your feet. It infuriates me that you don’t even realize how good you have it compared to a lot of women.” Charlie gestured to my figure. “Most women would kill for your breast-thigh combo. And men eat that goodness up.”
“Yeah, you can’t find this quality in the drive thru,” I quipped back, shimmying my ass. Charlie playfully spanked it as he rolled his eyes at me. “I think it would help if I heard it from a man who was actually interested in me, though.”
As I leaned my back against the bar to face him, I noticed Charlie wasn’t even looking at me anymore, opting instead to scan the room. “The red-headed gentleman at the far end of the bar seems interested. He’s been checking you out since you got here. I’d say he’s in his mid to late thirties. Obviously has style, but not enough to be gay,unfortunately. No wedding ring, but that doesn’t mean shit these days.”
I turned around to get a better look at him and my mouth went dry. His blue suit jacket hung on the back of his stool. Rolled up sleeves allowed me to see that his arms were covered in tattoos that snaked from the backs of his hands up his forearms. My lady-basement flooded as I thought of what those arms could do to me. How they could lift me, throw me onto a bed, and hold me as he…Sigh. It should be illegal for men to roll up their shirt sleeves.
His face was all hard angles and planes, with a straight nose and high cheekbones atop flawless pale skin. The most unique thing about him though was his fiery red hair. It was cut longer on the top, and was styled back from his head. Its natural waviness resembled flames frozen in time. His thick, neatly manicured beard was a shade darker than his hair. He looked so effortlessly handsome, despite the obvious effort he put into his appearance.
When I was done checking him out, I noticed that he was blatantly staring at me. I held his eye contact as he leaned back and rested one arm along the back of the empty stool next to him to take up more space. He could think he was a big, cocky alpha man all he wanted, but I never backed down from a challenge. My stare did not waiver as I held my head high, continuing to meet his unsaid summons. He must have liked that, because the smile he gave me was equal parts devious and charming. The corners of his lips reached his eyes, displaying his gleaming white teeth. Despite how handsome he was, something about that smile seemed unnatural. Feral even, if that was a possibility.Red flag.I was calling it: he was no good. This man was one hundred percent going to be trouble for me.
But, like a bull to a matador, that red flag called to me. Before I knew what was happening, my feet carried me down to the end of the bar. He sat on the very last stool near a dark alcove. On closer inspection, I could see that his eyes were an unusual shade of light green, almost like peridot, but with gold flecks that smoldered like embers. Mischief danced in his gaze, and that should have been my second warning. There was no way he wasn’t breaking hearts with eyes like that. I tried my hardest to stand in front of him with a forced neutral expression on my face. He would not receive the satisfaction of getting a reaction from me. Guys like this thrived off of being in control. He cocked a brow at me, waiting for me to say something, and he could keep on waiting.
Eventually he spoke. “Can I have a whiskey sour?” His deep, raspy voice was slightly accented. He definitely was not a New Yorker, but I couldn’t put a finger on his origin.
“Of course,” I said in as sweet a voice as I could muster. “Do you have a brand preference?”
“That one, please.” He pointed at a top-shelf selection, then leaned forward, crossing his arms over the bar. The tattoos were a myriad of things that made mosaic sleeves. Roses, snakes, strange symbols, portraits, and tribal stripes weaved intricately up his arms to create insanely vivid art. His beefy biceps and pecs filled out his shirt like a second skin. He was drool-worthy.Focus, Diana. Do not give this man a reaction.
“That one is a bit heavy on the malt and has a high proof. It may come across too hot in a mixed drink.”
“No, dollface, it won’t. That extra boost of alcohol amplifies the zesty sweetness of the bourbon, and will compliment the smoothness of the egg white.” He seemed very sure of himself. Anddollface.That was bold for a woman you just met.
“As you wish, sir, coming right up.” He adjusted in his seat, I guess to get a better look at me as I mixed his drink.
For the sake of showing off, I twirled the bottles in my hands and tossed the shaker in the air a couple times, watching as his eyes followed the movement. I vigorously shook bourbon, simple syrup, lemon juice, and an egg white in a cocktail shaker. For the egg white to froth, it had to be shaken well. I placed an ice ball into a crystal rocks glass, pouring the drink carefully over it so the foam rose to the top. When I slid it across the bar to him, his fingertips touched my hand, sending a zing of heat up my arm.
He took a long, measured sip and his tongue swiped his full bottom lip, collecting a stray drop. He slid it back to me. “Take a sip, taste for yourself.”
I raised the glass to my lips, and took a small sip. He was right. Old Elk did have a heavy malt flavor, but the acidity of the proof cut through the heaviness, changing the flavor profile. It had a slight fruity note to it. “That’s delightful. The sweetness wasn’t lost at all.” I started to slide it back to him, but realized I got lipstick on the rim. “Oh, sorry about that, let me get you a new drink.” He cleared his throat and grabbed his whiskey sour out of my hand before I could exchange it.
He took another sip, placing his lips right on top of my lipstick mark. Then he used that delicious looking tongue to lick the red smudge from the rim. “I wantthisdrink. It tastes even better now.” His raspy voice was an octave lower than before. I knew I shouldn’t, but I looked into those roguish green eyes. I swear, it looked like they were glowing.
The flood gates opened again and my nipples pebbled beneath the fabric of my bra. I wasn’t sure how long I stood there, drowning in those glowing, green pools of trouble. Eventually, I felt a rough calloused hand close over mine. Scars hid beneath the tattoos on the back of his hand. A warm sensation traveled through my arm. It tickled the back of my neck. Strange, but it felt amazing.I was about to drown in my own arousal. If I soak my panties at work, I am fucked because I don’t have a spare pair.
“What’s your name?” Turning my hand in his, he rubbed his thumb over the pulsepoint at my wrist. The gentle caress made me quiver. “What’s your story?”
“Diana,” I said. “I’m studying English, with the intention of pursuing a law degree. How about you?” I blinked, unsure as to why I’d felt the need to divulge anything about my life.
