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“The help?” she laughs, giving one of the regulars a thumbs up when he nags her about his drink.
“Yeah, the other bar staff?”
“We had a problem with the taps and pipes, my dad managed to get himself hurt, so Rowan had to take him to the ER, and our other bartender is out of town, so— Fuck, alright,” she snaps down at the pint of ale she’s pouring when the guy yells over at her again. “Can’t deal with your stalkery distraction right now, Hotshot.” She smiles over her shoulder while serving the impatient asshole.
Maybe I’m being stupid, but I don’t like that she’s getting pulled from pillar to post or yelled at from every angle. Perhaps I’m being ridiculous for even feeling annoyed at the situation, but before I can stop myself, I’m rounding the bar and ducking under the bar flap.
“What are you doing?” Rosie asks, panicked by my move.
What am I doing? Fuck only knows. “Helping,” I tell her, pulling my baseball cap low enough that it shadows most of my face.
This is stupid. A bad idea if I ever had one. It’s everything I shouldn’t be doing. Yet, I can’t turn back, even if it means calling attention to myself.
“Brody…”
“Rosie…”
“I don’t have time to show you everything…I can’t hold your hand.”
“I drive million dollar cars for a living. This isn’t rocket science.”
“You don’t even drink.”
“Doesn’t mean I can’t pour,” I give her a confident grin as I turn to the bar and a crowd of confused faces greet me.
With a sigh, Rosie shrugs, “Fine, but stay away from the taps…if you fuck ’em up, I’ll serve you to the dogs.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I have no idea what I’m doing. The last time I poured anyone liquor, I wasn’t old enough to be handling the stuff. But the more times we bump into each other and she smiles at me, the more my memories of the past fade into afterthoughts. Eventually, I get to grips with the simpler orders as I watch her pour pint after pint and give back sass as good as she gets it.
It’s strange being this caught up in someone. There are times when I glance at her to find her watching me with a grin on her face—probably because I’m fucking something up. But I don’t care. I like her eyes on me for whatever reason.
“There’s hope for you yet, Hotshot,” she teases with a whip of a rag to my shoulder. The second time she tries, I catch it and tug it roughly to me so that she tumbles into my chest.
Now that the bar is empty, it’s just the two of us up here with the jukebox playing some other country track I’m not familiar with. Yet somehow, with her in my arms, it’s the most beautiful song I’ve heard.
“Thanks for stepping in tonight,” she murmurs when I steady her on her feet. A conflicted look tugs at her brows before she adds, “I’m not sure whether you actually helped or not, but yeah…thank you.”
“I don’t know if I actually helped or not, but yeah…you’re welcome.”
Rosie’s so close that I can see her eyes adjust to the light and shadow when I step away from the bar and take her with me. There’s no fight or resistance, and for an instant, I’m thrown. A nanosecond before she bites down on her damn lip with her breath hitching and her eyes wide as saucers on mine.
I don’t care whether she asks for it or not. I’m done waiting. I’m done watching and anticipating because if she can’t or won’t fucking kiss me, then I’ll kiss her. Before she can pull away, I tug her body flush to mine. I press her up against the wall as my hand closes around her slender neck, stroking up to tilt her face.
“I’m going to kiss you, Angel, and this is the only chance you have to stop me,” I say as I lean in and lick over the seam of her lips.
There’s a whimper when I nip at the supple flesh, savoring her lemon sweet taste from the soda she’s been drinking throughout the night. Nudging her nose with mine, I give her the chance I promised her, thumbing the length of her throat. I relish the warmth of her needy breaths as they tickle over my lips. And when her hands anchor on my hips, trailing the top of my jeans to my back, I double down and crush my lips to hers.
Holy fuck, this is a kiss unlike any I’ve ever had. Her mouth opens to me with a rough inhale as her tongue greets mine. A groan escapes me with the hitch of her breath when I grind my body into hers. She feels good. Tastes better. Sounds as desperate for more as I am.
There’s no way I can stop as her hands claw at my back and her legs round my hips when I hoist her up my body, leaving my hands free to coil into her long hair.
God, she feels as incredible as she looks. Her kiss is as fiery as her sass. I’m screwed. I know it and there isn’t a damn thing I’m willing to do about it when we come up for air and she fixes me with a wondrous stare.
“Fuck,” she whispers into my gaping mouth.
All I can do is nod because yeah… “Fuck.”
