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I look at my reflection in the window, wondering what I’m doing here. Why I willingly put myself in a situation to be disappointed by another man, a man who doesn’t want me as much as I want him. This will be a battle of wills. I can be just friends with a devastatingly handsome, broken man who has the heart of a marshmallow. A man who platonically created a whole new menu item for me because I don’t drink.
“We’ll count the cans first and then move to the items in the storage room,” Jackson says, going to our beverage cooler behind the bar. “I’ll give you the amount, and you can write it down.”
“Sounds good.” He hands me a clipboard with a printed spreadsheet to add in the numbers. I drop it on the bar so I can hop up, but I’m not strong enough or it’s too tall for how small I am.
“Do you need help?” Jackson asks. There’s levity in his voice. “I can lift you.”
“I’m good,” I say, although I’m sweating. Two more failed attempts, and I feel a hand on my waist I wasn’t prepared for. He plops me on the shiny surface and the space between my legs clenches.
Just a friendly friend helping you out. There’s nothing sexual about this.
How I wish that was true, that he would plop me on a surface and devour me.
Adjusting on the hard bar top, I grab the clipboard and place it in my lap.
Jackson opens the refrigerator door, and he begins counting the beers, shouting the type and the numbers to me. His smile is always present nowadays, and it’s so handsome I have to look away sometimes.
“Dan came to our meeting today,” Jackson mentions. “Twelve of the Prospector IPA.”
I mark twelve on my sheet. I really like the Finches’ investor Dan. He’s a hoot. “Oh? How was his trip?”
“It seems like it was great,” Jackson says. “Do you know his attorney? Andrew?”
I remember a thin man with glasses who I chatted with for ten minutes one day when Dan brought him in. “I met him once. Seems nice enough.”
Jackson stops, raising his chin. “Dan asked if you were single. Supposedly, Andrew mentioned something.”
“Really?” I ask. My conversation with Andrew didn’t have a breath of flirt in it, but it flatters me that he’s interested.
“Yeah.” Jackson pauses, his hand on top of a can. “Are you?”
I cover my chest with the clipboard and bite my lip. I don’t know how to answer that.
The truth is too raw, too real.No matter how I fight it, I can’t be interested in anyone but you.
“Andrew’s nice. Maybe.”
Is that a hint of a smile on his lips? Did his body just relax? “Maybe?”
My heart thumps in my chest, and the heat in my cheeks flare.
I have to do something to get over you.
He turns his head, and our eyes catch. My gaze drops down to my clipboard, and a string of curses cross my mind. Our eye contact gave me away, and now it’ll be awkward, I just know it.
“Gold Dust IPA, eight,” he says, letting the cooler door close on its own. He turns toward me fully, and his stare brands my skin. I mark down the number with a shaky hand and deep breaths.
“Sunny,” he says. He inches toward me, one hand pressed to the bar. His nearness is driving me wild, and I need to keep my wits about me.
When I look up, his green eyes study me. I stand strong, meeting his gaze. If I can hold it, I can keep my secret.
“You’re acting strangely. For you,” he says.
“I am?” I ask, too quick to be convincing.
“You’re being weird.”
“You’rebeing weird.” I hop off the bar, accidentally brushing against him as I walk toward the cooler to count the next row.
