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“I’ll have a double Tito’s and cranberry, please. Could I also get an order of street tacos as an appetizer?”
Hopefully, Andreas doesn’t think it’s rude that I ordered food without him, but I can’t wait. I’m starving.
As I watch the bartender put my order in and make my drink, the chair next to me screeches as it’s pulled across the tiled floor. I turn around, ready to let them know I’m saving the seat when I see Andreas. He’s wearing black dress pants that hug him in all the right spots and a blue button-up shirt. His sleeves are rolled up, exposing his lickable forearms, and I swear it makes me drool. The top button of his shirt is undone, and a couple of days’ worth of stubble covers his jaw. His electric blue eyes seem to enjoy my perusal of him, and he winks at me when we make eye contact.
He leans into me with a smirk and says, “Alana, you look good enough to eat. Sorry I’m late. I got held up in a meeting.”
He’s close enough for me to smell his cologne, and I can tell it’s expensive. The aroma alone could melt the habit off of a nun. He leans back and hands me my phone so he can take his seat. Our hands touch, and I swear I can feel electricity travel up my arm and zing throughout my entire body.Is this man a fucking wizard, or what?
“Oh, it’s totally fine. I just sat down and ordered a drink and an appetizer. Sorry, I couldn’t wait for you. I’m so hungry,” I laugh.
The bartender walks over with my vodka cranberry and eyes Andreas. I can’t even blame her; he’s fucking gorgeous. A mega-watt smile lights up his face, and he pulls his wallet from his pocket. Sliding his ID across the bar top, he says, “May I please get a Knob Creek Rye Manhattan?”
I can see the bartender taking extra time to sear his name into her brain. Again, I would do the same. He’s just that pretty.
“I’m glad you ordered something to eat because I won’t eat much; I had a huge lunch,” Andreas says, his eyes roaming from my hair down to my toes.
They linger on my chest and legs before snapping back up. I’m already blushing, and we’ve barely said two sentences to each other. I fidget with my phone and my left leg shakes. The nervous movement creates a squeaking sound from the bouncing, so I try to still it before Andreas notices. I’m feeling a little nauseous.
“It makes me nervous imagining you just watching me eat. For my sanity, can you at least order a salad or something, so I’m not being weird the whole time?” I try to negotiate.
Please agree with me.There’s some kind of weird power dynamic about a person sitting and watching another eat, and I don’t care if that makes me sound irrational.
“Whatever makes you more comfortable, Alana.” He accepts my odd request and picks up a menu from the bar rail.
While I continue to restlessly move around, he calmly looks over the food options and rests his hand on my knee. My leg stills at his touch.
With his thumb rubbing circles against my thigh, right above the knee, he says, “Relax, Alana. We’re just getting a drink and a bite to eat. No expectations, no spanking. Unless, of course, you beg me to.”
My eyes bulge, and I almost choke on the drink I’m swallowing. A deep, rumbling laugh rises from his chest, and his entire face brightens. I laugh with him until our eyes connect. Our laughter dies down, and I can see his jaw clench. I’d give my entire savings account to know what he’s thinking right now. I grin at him to ease the tension. Then, I’m saved by the bell. The bartender approaches us with his Manhattan, and a food runner brings me my street tacos.
“Oh, hallelujah. I was so busy getting things done today, I forgot to eat.” I garble through a huge bite.
They’re exactly what I wanted with crisp wonton-style shells, grilled chicken, fresh red onion, cilantro, and some sort of spicy sauce drizzled over the top. I moan as I swallow, but quickly wipe my mouth when I remember who I’m sitting next to. Nervously, I look up and see him watching me.
Smirking, Andreas clears his throat and murmurs, “Alana, you’re so expressive when you’re enjoying yourself. Do you always moan so loudly when your mouth is full?”
27
Chapter Twenty Seven
Andreas
My hand shifts back to Alana’s thigh, and I grip her lightly before reaching back to grab my drink.
She almost chokes on her street taco when she hears the clear innuendo. She says, “Food that tastes good deserves to be enjoyed. Almost nothing is as pleasing as a well-crafted taco.”
If I’m not mistaken, she just hit me with some innuendo of her own. I smirk and continue to sip from my Manhattan. The bartender approaches us again. “Would you two like to order anything else?” she asks.
“Yes, we’ll take another round of drinks, and I’d like to order the Cobb Salad with bleu cheese and French dressing, please.” She jots our order and strides toward the POS.
Alone again, I turn and watch Alana finish her last street taco. She does everything with such vigor and spice. Watching someone eat has never been this entertaining. The meal so far feels foreplay. Our flirty banter seems to have eased her nerves because her legs finally stopped bouncing around nervously.
“Hey, I wanted to talk about how we’ve behaved toward each other. I feel edgy about how I should interact with you. We didn’t necessarily get off on the right foot. The night you came into the store, you seemed to hate me. And that dislike kind of carried over into our other interactions that led up to our meeting in the office.”
The blush staining her cheeks lets me know she’s embarrassed to bring up what happened in the office. It makes me chuckle. I appreciate her jumping directly into what she’s thinking. It shows maturity and thoughtfulness, and those are both traits that I value immensely. Pondering her question, I wipe the condensation off the side of my glass.
Then, I pick up the white cloth napkin the bartender gave us and wipe my hands. “I realize I’ve acted like an asshole. Honestly, that’s not entirely off the mark. I work long hours, and I’m usually stressed out. That’s not an excuse to treat people like shit, but sometimes it happens. When I came into the store that first night, I was unimpressed with the way it was being run, and I took that frustration out on you. That was wrong, and I don’t think I’ve ever apologized for that. I’m sorry. As for our other interactions that followed, you bit back when I snapped, and it was a turn-on. I’m not supposed to be attracted to or act on the attraction that I feel toward my employees. Something has been brewing since the day you pressed your breasts against me in the bar closet. The fire you had in your eyes that day made me hard.”
