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“Did we do okay?” Dani asks, her soft voice drifting through the quiet. I jolt and look up, finding her wiping down a nearby table.
Another shy smile. She’s wearing those shorts and a baggy black t-shirt knotted at the waist, and as Dani bends forward to scrub, her t-shirt slips off her shoulder, revealing a delicate glimpse of collarbone.
Fuck.
What was the question?
“The bar,” Dani says, nodding at the spread of paper records beside my laptop. A pink flush creeps over her cheeks, but she doesn’t scuttle away this time. She keeps looking at me, hoping for an answer. Her hair’s half pulled back, half tumbling over her shoulders, and all glossy like a starry night sky. “Did we do okay today? The evening crowd seemed lively.”
Oh, they were lively alright. Hooting and hollering, singing along to the music and pushing chairs aside for a makeshift dance floor. We had six glasses smashed this evening, but the culprits kept buying rounds for the whole bar, so I ain’t complaining. Whiskey shots are pricier than glass.
“Yeah. We did okay.”
Dani nods and goes back to her cleaning, flipping the chairs and stacking them on top of the table before she moves on to the next lot. She hums a tune under her breath as she works, but it’s too quiet for me to make out.
“So what other husband skills do you need to work on?”
She asks me that when her back is turned, like she doesn’t want me to see her reaction. Dani’s bent over, scrubbing at a table, and her peachy little ass short circuits my brain.
How am I supposed to string a thought together in these conditions? When I’m alone with this woman late at night, and she looks likethat? When she asks me these sweet questions in her husky voice? When I can remember the feel of her in my arms?
Nearly kissed her senseless in that stock cupboard earlier. Nearly grabbed that peachy ass and lifted her up, pressed her against the door, and rutted between her perfect legs.
But I promised her I’d keep this arrangement away from her job, didn’t I? So I can’t do those things here. Can’t do those thingsanywhere.
“Uh,” I say, trying desperately to wrangle my brain into gear. Husband skills. Yeah. “You know. The usual.”
Dani snorts, and when she glances back at me over her shoulder, her smile is sly. “The usual husband skills? Trapping spiders and mowing the lawn? That kind of thing?”
“…Sure.”
She’s outwitting me, I know she is, but I’ve barely slept all week with wanting this girl, and now she’s alone with me, teasing in that soft voice. Can’t think straight. I duck my head and focus on the books.
“Why do you keep paper records, Kingston?”
Her voice by my elbow makes me jump. Cursing quietly, I toss my pencil down and turn to Dani, grabbing her by the waist without warning and lifting her onto the bar. And she squeals, but it’s a delighted kinda squeal. She grips my hands on her waist and holds them there when I move to let go.
With her sat up on the bar, she’s finally at my eye level.
“I keep ‘em because digital records can get lost. It’s another back up. And because I think better on paper, that’s all.”
I know it makes me a relic. Believe me, I’m all too aware that I’m a dinosaur compared to my pretty bartender, but she hums and nods like it makes perfect sense.
She’s still holding my hands on her waist. Her grip slides down, until she’s wrapped her fingers around both my thumbs. So fucking cute.
“If I ask you another question, will you tell me the truth?” Dani says. Her heels swing gently where they dangle in the air, and my heart’s booming like a firing range at being this close to her. At having my hands on her body. Piercing blue eyes watch me, waiting for my answer.
“‘Course.”
That’s one husband skill Idon’tneed help with. I’ve always known: if I settle down with a woman, if I find my partner, I won’t ever lie or keep secrets. Life’s too goddamn complicated already without making things worse.
And maybe it’s deluded, but a big part of me’s thinking…
Dani could be that woman. You know, if she’d have me.
“Why were you in prison?” she asks.
I jolt back, but Dani squeezes my thumbs and pulls me close. And, okay, she can’t betoohorrified with me if she wants to keep my touch on her waist.
