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“Desmond Sinclair,” he replied. “I actually work in law. That’s impressive, Diana, you must be smart.”
“So I’ve been told. It’s nice to meet you, Desmond Sinclair.” Not smart enough apparently, because I was letting a complete stranger feel me up at my place of employment.AndI shared a drink with him. What was wrong with me?
He smirked. “I’m sure you won’t always feel that way.”
Before I could ask him what he meant by that, Charlie interrupted us.
“Hey, I hate to end this adorable meet cute, but Salvatore needs your help with one of the private party rooms. He needs you to hunt down some flutes and trays for champagne flights. Two waitresses called out tonight, so you’ll need to carry them, too.” Charlie’s eyes darted from my face, to where Desmond’s hand grasped my hand. He was nosier than an old grandma, so I knew he’d hound me about this later.
“I’m sure I’ll see you again soon.” Desmond winked at me and picked up his whiskey sour again. Fuck. I had a feeling this guy wasn’t going to just leave and make my night easier.How was I supposed to concentrate with him here?
I got to work prepping five champagne flights. That totaled to twenty five separate flutes, five of each brand. Desmond intently watched me from his end of the bar. Knowing his attention was on me made my cheeks heat. I flagged down a stray waitress and she carried half of them for me. On my way to the private party rooms, a sharp, cracking pain radiated through my skull. Stars exploded behind my eyes as an overwhelming wave of nausea pummeled me.Another fucking migraine!I took a deep breath, trying my best to stay focused on my task. This was not going to ruin my shift.
Gripping the tray, I cautiously put one foot in front of the other, trying to weave between the tables without falling. Sharp pain flared from the front of my skull to the back, until it hit the base of my neck. It felt as if I got hit with another Mack truck, and this time it backed up and reversed over me again. I crashed into a table, the corner pressing into my inner thigh. Somehow I was able to keep the tray from falling over.FUCK, that hurt.It was extremely difficult to hold onto the little coordination I had. Each footstep became less balanced as the pain battered through my entire body. I felt a hot, wetness leave my nostrils. Drops of blood dripped down into the champagne flutes. My vision blurred and the room felt like it was spinning. All the furniture was moving and the lights whirled above me. I heard glass shatter. The room went black.
* * *
Rough leather scratched my bare legs, and itching tingles spread through my entire body. It felt as if I was on fire. My eyes couldn’t focus, and my head was fist pumping like theJersey Shorein 2010. I opened my eyes to a popcorn ceiling and a motivational poster.Teamwork makes the dream work.Unfortunately, this was not a dream. This pain was one hundred percent real.Wait, why am I laying down in the back office?I tried to get up, but a strong grip on my arm gently guided me back down.
“Easy now, Diana, you wouldn’t want to get dizzy.” That sensual, raspy voice washed over me, making me feel peaceful. The itching subsided, too. Why was Desmond here?
“Mmm, what’s going on?” I asked. “Why am I here?”
My manager’s gritty smoker’s voice assaulted my very sensitive state. “You took a nasty fall there, Dee. Passed out cold right on the main floor. I think you should go to the hospital.”Fuck you, Debbie! I am not going to a hospital.
“Debbie, I’m fine. I’ll get myself together and go back to the lounge to finish my shift.” Desmond helped me sit up, sliding his warm hand up my back and firmly planting it at the back of my neck. I instantly felt less flustered.
“Dee, you passed out in front of a room filled with people. Your eyes aren’t focused and you’re waxy crayon white. You were out cold for fifteen minutes. Your knight in shining armor had to carry you into my office and pick the glass out of your hair.” Debbie batted her eyelashes at Desmond. If older women with clown makeup and teased 80s hair was his thing, she definitely had a shot. “You damaged over a thousand dollars worth of champagne. I’m sorry, I can’t have you out in the lounge tonight.”
“You should at least go home if you don’t want to go to the hospital,” Desmond firmly stated. “Going back to work in your condition isn’t advisable, you need rest.”
He had a point. My entire body ached like an MMA fighter after a ground and pound. “You’re right. Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“The fuck you will. Stay home for the rest of the weekend and come back for prep Monday. You’re running yourself ragged between school and working shifts here. You earned a break. Rest up and we’ll arrange the rest of your week’s shifts on Monday.” Debbie gave me a warm smile, like she cared, but I was still salty about missing work.
I barely wanted to go home, let alone miss out on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday shifts. Law school was expensive and weekends were the money makers. Desmond’s hand rubbed against the back of my neck, soothing me. I felt a tension in my muscles that I wasn’t previously aware of melting away. It carried all the way down, between my thighs, pooling in a liquid heat. He offered me his hand and helped me up off the couch. Looping his arm through mine, he walked me out of the back office, allowing me to lean on him for support.
“Where am I taking you?” he asked, as if we had already decided that he would be driving me home.
“You’re not taking me anywhere, random man I met at the bar tonight. I appreciate that you carried me to the safety of a dilapidated back office couch. You’re a total sweetheart for picking glass out of my hair and sitting with me until I woke up. But, it’s not safe for me to let some charming, handsome stranger know where I live.” Was he a stranger? Yes. Did I want to fuck him… also yes. I couldn’t stop flirting with him. He was a severely attractive man with his own gravitational pull, and he was sucking me deep into his orbit.
“I’m going to insist on getting you home safely. It’s equally unsafe for you to drive a car home or take public transit in the condition you’re in. Being vulnerable is dangerous. Being vulnerable, beautiful, and alone at night?” He cocked an eyebrow at me. “That’s just an opportunity for trouble. I won’t stand by and let you get hurt.”
Oh no, we had aDaddyin the house. I could imagine him grounding me for forgetting to wear my bike helmet. Maybe he’d give me a spanking too.No. Do not go there, girl.
“I’ll be fine on my bike. Don’t you worry about me. You can give me your number, and I’ll text you when I get home, if that would ease your mind.” At least this way I could part with his phone number and see if there was anything behind that connection we had earlier.
“You’re going to ride a bicycle home at night?” Was he serious? I haven’t ridden a bicycle since I wore a training bra.
“No, a Harley. Bad Bitch Brenda, to be more specific.” The look on his face was incredulous. I wondered what shocked him more, that I rode a motorcycle or that I actually named it Bad Bitch Brenda.
“Iinsistthat you let me drive you home. You can come back for it tomorrow.” He was so commanding, but in a sexy way, like he actually cared about my wellbeing. “What happens if you get hurt in an accident? It would have all been so avoidable, had you just let thecharming, handsome strangertake you home.”
Very funny. He had a point though. There was something about him that seemed safe enough. He could drive me home, but that didn’t mean I had to let him in my house. I let out a hard sigh. “Okay, you can take me home. Let me get my stuff first. I’ll meet you by the door.”
I made my way back to the locker room and packed up my stuff. My dress stunk of champagne, so I changed back into my original outfit before I met him at the door with my helmet and bag. Was I really going to climb into a completely unknown man’s car? This was either going to be a really cute story about how we met, or the beginning of my Dateline special. I walked us out to the parking lot and gave my Harley Davidson Heritage Classic a pat as we passed her.
“Is that your bike?” He stopped to admire the bike, running his hand over the cutout in the back of my dress and caressing the exposed skin. I nodded, looking at it wistfully. Anytime I traveled without Bad Bitch Brenda was a missed opportunity. She was my baddie babe for life. “Can I ride it, with you on the back?”
