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But his attention is still on my sister, and my stomach flips, an uneasy feeling that has nothing to do with his sudden appearance in the middle of a blackout.
“So, the power’s back on,” he says, his voice smooth and calm. His profile is... something else. He tilts his head, and I inhale.
Violently. Sharp. Cheekbones. He could shave ham paper-thin on them and please the most demanding of deli clients. That thought is a mistake as soon as it pops into my head.
The thought of this bizarre, dangerous, handsome stranger rubbing meat on his face has a stupid giggle erupting out of my chest, and I clap my hand over my mouth.
Both he and my sister look at me. That’s when I see his eyes aren’t dark, they’re just shadowed. He takes a step toward me, his eyes, crisp and golden in the light of the bar, shift. His gaze removes itself from my face… and drops to my chest.
And, uh. Stays there.
I swallow and cross my arms in front of me. Emily clears her throat, tossing me a glare.
“Sorry,” I mutter. “Just, um, had something funny come to mind.”
“Uh huh.” Her lips purse and she looks back at the stranger. “Like I was saying, we can’t serve you, so get out.”
He’s not paying her any mind. His eyes are on me, and as he steps closer, a shudder runs down my spine. There’s a faint glow around him, and I can see the air shimmering a little around hisedges, as if it can’t quite decide whether to let him exist or not.
“Do you work here?” he asks, and his eyes move slowly back to mine.
I swallow hard and nod.
“She’s a fucking idiot,” Emily snorts, and the stranger doesn’t even turn his head.
“She’s a fucking idiot,” Emily snorts, and the stranger doesn’t even turn his head. “Katy? Go wipe the tables,” she snaps, and I grab my rag, ducking out from behind the bar and slipping to the furthest table away from them both, in the darkest corner of the room. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see my sister tugging her shirt down as she leans on the countertop, fluttering her lashes at our dashing, mysterious stranger with a coy smile. Seemingly, she’s decided to try flirtation since he’s not leaving, and from the look of his clothes, he has more money than most of our clientele.
“Can I get you anything?”
“I’ll take a table,” he says, tone flat, and he turns away from her. And walks directly towards me.
Shit. Shit shit shit. I scurry around, trying to look like I’m actually doing a decent job at my job, and not just trying to hide from him.
His strides eat up the ground, consuming the space I’d so hurriedly put between us, and he’s before me in what feels like a single heartbeat. But couldn’t be…
“Is this seat taken?” he asks, as he gestures to the chair at the table I’ve just finished wiping.
He sits at the table, and then his eyes lock on me. He’s sitting in a chair that faces me, and now, even though I’m scrubbing at the surface of the table, I can’t stop my eyes from darting up, again and again.
“Uh. Um.” I stumble to tell him the simple ‘no’, because why is he even asking when the entire bar is empty, and it’s not likely that I’m going to sit down at this one chair all of a sudden and deny him access to it now that he’s asked, unless I’m literally like the world’s biggest jerk and—
“HEY!” I snap, as his gaze has fallen to my chest, his brow furrowing, eyes narrowing. “Up here, buddy!” I flick out my rag and slap him under the chin, the fabric licking uncomfortably at his skin. He jerks his head up, eyes flashing with anger, and he looks… shocked. That I’d dare to hit him, or fight back, or talk back.
Those eyes. I tense up. They’re… really gold. Not brown, not hazel, not amber — they’re actually golden, like they’re reflecting some sort of rich, warm light from deep within. And now they’re staring at me, as if he has never seen anything quite like what he does right now. His lips press together. Tightly.
He doesn’t say a word.
I feel the blood draining out of my face. I don’t know what I did wrong. Did he just think he could stare at me? I was just... defending myself.
“Sorry,” I mutter.
The stranger doesn’t say anything. Instead, he turns, looking over his shoulder. I can’t tear my gaze away from his profile, his skin smooth, and perfect, and flawless. My stomach flip-flops, and a shiver runs down my back. I don’t know why I’mreacting to him like this. He’s just some stranger, and I’m not that desperate.
“Is your boss around?”
The question, so innocent and polite, catches me off guard.
“What?”
