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I tried not to take it personally that my best friend had called the new girl before he called me. He knew me better than anyone and knew I would’ve covered for him. Instead, he called Simone, and she looked happy to be here. I watched her buzz around the bar with a grin pulling at her cheeks.
Her smile stretched farther when a couple of guys approached the counter. They had charming smiles, the kind that usually meant they could have their pick of any girl in the place, and judging by the freshly ironed polo shirts they wore, they didn’t realize how much of a townie bar this was. Most of the patrons here wore casual T-shirts and jeans.
I chuckled when one leaned on the counter, resting his chin on his arm but flexing while he did. Simone raised a brow, but it quickly dropped to a patient smile. I laughed.
“Have fun dealing with the drunk losers,” I mumbled to myself.
“Hey, sweet cheeks,” the guy posing against the counter half slurred. “Why don’t you get us a couple of drinks, and then maybe give me your number.”
She forced a giggle, and I swore she clenched her jaw for a second before she smiled at the guy. “How about I get you one of those two things? What are you drinking tonight?”
He laughed, showing he wasn’t used to being rejected. “I’m drinking whatever gets you home with me later.”
“Oh, I’m afraid we don’t have any of that.”
“What would that be?” His face lit up in expected victory.
Simone giggled. “That would be the loss of my inhibitions. I’m not interested, but I’m more than happy to get you a real drink.”
“Not interested at all, hmm? What can I do to change your mind?” He flexed again, and I couldn’t stop from rolling my eyes.
She leaned against the counter, tossing her hair over her shoulder like she was about to tell him a secret. “Nothing.” She stood up again. “I’m really not interested. Now, do you want a drink or not? I’m busy.”
The guys looked around the bar that was slowly filling with a crowd, and he raised his brow. “You don’t look busy to me. Don’t be so stuck-up. I’m one of the good ones. Just give a man a chance.”
Turning around and slapping her hands against the counter, Simone dropped the smile from her face. “I said no.” She emphasized each word with a space before walking away.
Suddenly, the man’s hand shot out and he wrapped it around Simone’s wrist. He squeezed and tugged, pulling her back towards him with a sneer. “I said don’t be so stuck-up.”
The stool I was sitting on rocked backwards when I stood up. “Hey man, hands off. What the hell is wrong with you, huh?”
For a moment, the man clenched his hands into fists at his sides, clearly debating if he was going to hit me for interrupting his conversation or not. “Go fuck yourself,” he said to me before turning back to Simone. “You too, ugly whore.”
She rolled her eyes, watching the man and his friend until the front door closed behind them. “Are you okay?”
“Why do you even care?” She sounded spiteful, not that I blamed her.
Puffing my chest out, I straightened my face. “I don’t, but I don’t like when men get handsy in my bar.”
“I thought this was Auston’s bar.” She cocked her head, her eyes searing through me. “Plus, I can defend myself. I didn’t need your help.”
I sighed. “Every chick says that.”
Chapter 10
Simone
It had been a long day. After being up late and working the night before, I’d gone home to finish a bottle of wine with Emmy. Then we finished another, and before we could open the third bottle we had agreed to, we passed out on the couch. I woke up this morning with a headache, and none of the long showers or naps were getting rid of the hangover.
“I don’t want to hear it. I just want a drink, okay?” I settled onto the stool, resting my arms against the counter and holding up my hand before Logan could make a comment about how I shouldn’t be at Pour Decisions on my night off. There were probably better places I could be, but there were cheap alcohol and familiar faces at Pour Decisions, and sometimes that was just what a girl needed.
“I wasn’t going to say anything.” Logan went back to wiping the counter, but he shrugged and smirked, letting me know he had plenty of opinions to share about my being there.
Relaxing against the counter, I studied the collection of bottles I already had memorized. “Oh, so it’s okay I’m in your bar, then?” I was pushing his buttons, looking for the way he’d grit his teeth when he was holding back his frustration. When his jaw flexed, I grinned.
“It’s not my bar, remember? You said so yourself.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “What are you drinking?”
Was he being hospitable? It was possible he was just doing his job, but I couldn’t imagine he’d treat me like he would a customer when I hadn’t given him the same courtesy twenty-four hours earlier. My stomach fluttered.
