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“Why would it have anything to do with her?” I asked, and he smiled. The way my voice cracked gave me away.
“It appears I’m right. I can see why. The girl is something,” he said, nodding to the counter. Like I was, Rudy had been impressed by the way Simone defended herself. The guy had been drunk, but he’d easily had seven inches on her and at least fifty pounds. She flipped him around and pinned him against the counter easily, as if she didn’t struggle at all.
I sighed. “She’s a pain in my ass.” It was true. She liked to argue with everything I said and correct me, and I swear it was becoming her favorite game to get my friends to team up against me. Simone knew exactly what to do to frustrate me, and she seemed to enjoy doing so. Still, my lips tingled thinking about hers. I could almost feel her breath on them when I inhaled, and I shook my head to clear it.
“Whatever you say, buddy.” He took a cocky gulp of his beer as if to end the argument, and I laughed.
When the door opened, both of us turned and looked. On a Monday afternoon, it was fairly rare for anyone that wasn’t a regular to mosey in, though they did on occasion. I didn’t recognize the man at first until the door closed, shutting out the light from behind him. There was a distinct bruise on his face that lined his cheek and circled his eye.
He glared, looking around the bar as he approached. I assumed he was looking for Simone, either to make another move or to get her back for embarrassing him the other night. She wasn’t here, not that she would be unable to defend herself if she was.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I said, bracing both of my hands on the counter. My voice was lower and gruff—the same one I used any time I told someone they had to leave. It was a tone that didn’t allow for argument.
That didn’t stop the man from arguing with me, though. “You can’t make me leave.”
I cracked each of my knuckles individually, locking my eyes with his. “Do you want to bet on that?”
The man stared at me, stubbornly crossing his arms over his chest as a refusal. There was a gleam in his eyes that told me he thought he would be an even match. “Maybe I do.”
I put my hands back on the counter and leapt over the top. Landing face-to-face with him caused him to stumble backwards. Where there was stern defiance a moment earlier was now a regretful fear. What was his original plan when he’d walked into this bar?
“You should just be glad that I’m not pressing charges!” He talked with confidence, but held his hands up in front of his face.
I laughed. “Pressing charges for what?”
“That bitch assaulted me!”
When I laughed again, Rudy joined in. “Assault? That was self-defense, and everyone here that witnessed it would agree. You want to press charges? I’ll gladly give you a real reason to press charges if you don’t get the fuck out of my bar.”
He stumbled over his words as much as he stumbled over his feet, and he rushed towards the door. “You and your girlfriend can go fuck yourselves. I guarantee this isn’t the last you’ll be seeing of me.”
“It’s the last I’ll be seeing you in here. I believe she made you a promise to break your wrist and all of your fingers if you come back, and I think she intends to keep it.” I smirked at him. “If I were you, I wouldn’t test her.”
Chapter 14
Simone
Logan wiped down the tables in the booths on the far wall for the fifth time since I’d showed up. The tables got sticky, but they don’t need to be wiped down every fifteen minutes. Especially on a Wednesday afternoon when there hadn’t been anyone in any of the seats. He was avoiding me.
I didn’t mind. I could feel the static every time he walked by me, and each time he reached past me for one of the glasses, the hairs on my arm stood on end. The smell of his cologne, the same one he wore every day, smelled stronger for some reason.
I couldn’t focus on anything I was supposed to be doing. Instead, I was watching the way he moved around the bar doing mindless tasks. I was usually the one rushing around cleaning things when I got nervous, but Logan was already cleaning everything I normally would.
Since he did that, I organized the glasses under the counter. The light, high-pitched clank of the glasses stacking together was comforting. They didn’t need to be restacked, but it made me feel better to organize something.
“Sorry, I just need to grab the spray,” Logan said, leaning in past me but making sure he didn’t touch me. The bottle was barely out of his reach, and he stammered. I handed the spray to him, giving him a small smile. He chuckled awkwardly. “Uh, thanks…”
“Sure. I’m going to go get…” I looked around the area for anything we needed. There were two towels still folded under the register. That’d probably be plenty to get us through the night, but even if we didn’t need towels, I did need the excuse. “Towels. I’m going to go get towels.”
Logan nodded but lifted his brow when he saw the stash of towels still able to be used. He breathed a slight sigh of relief, though, so I figured he needed the break from me as much as I needed the break from him.
“When you’re back there, can you also grab more straws?” He held up one of the tiny black straws as if to remind me what I was looking for.
It would keep me in the back a little longer, though not by much. I just needed a breather—a moment away from the thick air that hung in the bar. The closet was quiet, muffling the sound of the music and the low hum of voices. It was like I wasn’t there, more like I was listening from a distance, and I took a slow, deep breath.
“You can do this,” I mumbled to myself, stretching on my toes to grab the box holding ten thousand of the little straws.
Behind me, the door clicked and swung open, and Logan hurried into the closet. “Careful. If you grab it that way, you could drop it!” He scooped the box from my hands and sat it on the lower shelf.
