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“Oh, one of those.” He rolls his eyes and groans, and since I really need this job, I won’t ask him what the hell he thinks he means by that. Besides, I know what he means. God forbid a woman ask for a little respect.
“I want you to pour me one more.”
“I already announced last call.” I look at the clock on the wall, then look at him. “And I’m going to be locking the door in two minutes.”
“I can drink it in two minutes.”
“I’m sorry, but no. You had almost fifteen minutes to ask me for another beer. I’m getting ready to close up now.” I really wish he would go. One of the cooks is still in the kitchen, closing up, so I’m not alone. But I don’t feel like having to call for help, either.
“Why do you have to be such a bitch?”
The handful of guys still hanging around start to get up and wander away, leaving their glasses on the bar for me. I kind of want to ask them to take him along with them, but instead, I collect the glasses on a tray and carry them over to the sink.
“Did you hear my question?” The slob stands and leans against the bar for support. “I asked you why you have to be such a bitch.”
“It would be a good idea for you to go.”
Instead, he reaches out as soon as I’m close enough and grabs my arm. “Get off me!” I shout as I try to pull away.
All at once, the front door flies open, and a tall blur darts across the room. Once Griffin closes a hand around the back of the man’s neck, the hand around my arm disappears. “Get your sorry ass out of here,” Griffin growls before practically picking the man up and carrying him to the door.
I’m relieved, sure, but that doesn’t keep me from being annoyed, too. “Don’t you have anything better to do than stalk me?”
“Stalk you? Last I checked, I helped you out.”
“And like I keep telling you, I don’t need you watching me all the time.”
“Sure. You have everything under control. It was obvious from outside that you were handling things.”
“I don’t need this, all right? Please. Just let me live my life.” When he doesn’t move, I look up from the glasses I’m washing. “I sort of need this job, you know? It’s bad enough I got fired from the grocery store. I’ll get fired from here, too, if you keep handling the customers like that.”
“You’re right.” He folds his arms over his broad chest. “Next time you’re being assaulted, I’ll settle for watching from a distance.”
“You can go now. I’m locking up.”
“If it’s all the same to you, I’ll give you a ride home.”
“It is not all the same to me.”
“Stop wasting your breath.” Because obviously, what I want doesn’t matter and never has. Since Mason refuses to take a hint and get out of my life, I’m forced to put up with this.
It’s not like it’s worth fighting. I know it. I’ve sort of become resigned to being watched all the time. But I won’t let them know that. I’m at least going to put on a good show. The second Mason figures out I’ve gotten used to his interfering, he’ll start doing more of it.
I’m exhausted by the time I lock the door behind me. It’s late enough that the street is pretty quiet, but I’m glad for the ride. My feet hurt after working a double, and I don’t feel like waiting for the bus. Griffin isn’t much of a conversationalist, but that’s not a bad thing. I don’t have much to say to him, anyway. I want to know how Mason is, but I guess pride won’t let me ask. I need to believe I made the right choice by walking away from his dangerous and secretive life.
And the more I talk about him, the harder it will be to convince myself I’m doing the right thing.
“I hope you don’t tell him about what happened back there.” It’s a relief to sit down in the comfortable car and take a breath.
“Him?” I roll my eyes at Griffin’s question.
“You know who I mean. I don’t need to go in for my next shift and get chewed out because Mason made a phone call or something. I really do need this job.”
“Nobody is trying to get you fired.” I want to ask how well he actually knows his boss, but I’m too tired to fight. Guys like Griffin tell themselves they’re doing the right thing, and they think that makes it okay to tune out what everybody else says and feels and wants.
“Taking the long way?” I ask once I notice we’re driving through town rather than heading straight for my building. I really hope he doesn’t plan on taking me someplace else. I just want to go to bed.
