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From the front, the doorman held open the entrance, admitting an early customer. But I figured it was probably just one of Pick’s family members. His wife and four kids stopped by quite a bit to visit him.
And, yep, what do you know... As I focused my attention that way, a familiar, curvy figure pranced inside, wearing a short, tight jean skirt, cowboy boots, and a strapless black bustier that would make any man’s mouth go dry in want.
I, however, grimaced and let out a moan of defeat.
But why did she have to stop by whileIwas working?
Pick’s youngest daughter—second-to-youngest kid—had been a thorn in my side since she’d hit puberty.
Chloe had been the sweetest girl, I swear. She’d been one of my favorites in the whole friend pack that my parents had. But once she’d gotten breasts and dropped her baby fat, revealing a hot, banging body underneath, she’d turned into an absolute shrew.
I usually tried to avoid her, but since all her friends weremyfriends, and my family treated her family like…well,ourfamily…then I was pretty much forced to see her constantly. And I’m talking holidays, special occasions, shooting-the-shit hang-out nights, pretty much everything. She wasalwaysthere, and always ready to give me a hard time.
“Yes, your dad’s in the back,” I answered before she could ask or say anything to me, which would no doubt lead to a snide insult at my expense. Then I added, “No, I don’t have change for a twenty. And Jesus, do you always gotta be so rude and nasty to me?”
Tipping her head at me, she sauntered straight to the bar and paused, setting her hand on my freshly cleaned countertop so her long nails—or more aptly, hertalons—could tap irritatingly against the marble surface.
Her eyebrows lifted, and she smirked before murmuring, “Wow, Hamilton. I hope you didn’t practice that one in the mirror because, honestly, it could use some work.”
I shrugged and picked up a rag to purposely wipe down the spot she was touching as if she’d left smears. “And…refer to number three of my opening comments,” I lifted my finger to remind her that she was insulting me. Again.
But all she did was retort, “That was technically aquestion, not a comment. And to answer it: yes. Idohave to be rude and nasty to you. Always.”
I rolled my eyes and sighed. “I figured.”
When she sat down at the bar instead of moving along to go see her dad in the back, I straightened in surprise.
“What’re you doing?” She couldn’t sit here. Her dad’s office was down the hall.Thatway. Why was she lingering inmyspace?Mykingdom.
“I’m sitting,” she answered as if I was some kind of idiot who didn’t comprehend the concept. “Dad said he’d meet me out here.”
I frowned even harder. “Why?”
She blinked at me as if I was insane for asking such a question. “I don’t know,” she finally answered, shrugging offhandedly. “Because it’shisbar and he can do whatever he wants. What is yourproblem?”
My problem? Myproblem? Was she serious? My problem was that she was… “You’rehere,” I muttered, waving my hand over her irritably. She was in my space, polluting my air.
“Aww, you poor thing.” She pressed a hand to her chest, right where her tight bustier met up with the bulge of large, luscious breasts spilling out the top. And of course, my attention veered straight to that hand, or more aptly what lay beneath it because, unfortunately, she had the best breasts ever that always forced me to look at them. But then she managed to ruin the view, as she always did, by rolling her eyes and dryly muttering, “You’ll live. Now be a doll and make me an amaretto sour while I wait, would you?”
My jaw worked as I lifted my gaze to glare up at her face since there was no way I could glare at her breasts. The poor twins couldn’t help that they were attached to such a heartless viper. But her eyes… Ooh, her eyes hated me most, I think. The way they narrowed and judged and despised everything I did…yeah. I could scowl into her dark brown eyes with no problem.
The temptation to deny her demand and tell her to get her own damn drink was so heady that it crowded its way up my throat and physically burned my windpipe.
But she was Pick’s beloved baby girl. I couldn’t tell her no.
I mean, Icould. And it’d be fun. Pick wouldn’t even fire me for it. But he’d hassle me for longer than I wanted to be hassled. So…
Turning away, I clenched my teeth in irritation and started on her fucking drink.
It would’ve served her right if I purposely mixed in the wrong ingredients and made it taste horrible, but bartending was my art, and I couldn’t purposely sabotage a drink. Not even for Chloe.
Plus—and this went no further than here—but secretly, I liked watching her take something of mine between her lips and swallow it all with satisfaction.
Once I was finished and turned back to her, however, that bustier she was wearing caught my gaze all over again.
Seriously, someone so rude and nasty should not be allowed to be that hot. And I mean,all-overgorgeous.
Along with her spectacular cleavage, she has these bare, toned, golden shoulders that begged a man’s hands to slip their way all over them.
