Gross.
My brow arched all on its own, tone going coy. I was getting good at this game. “Now…now… Do I look like a princess to you?”
“Nah, baby cakes, you look like a wet dream.”
Let me reiterate.
Gross.
So gross.
And seriously, baby cakes?
What a douchebag.
You’d think after everything, I’d have picked a different work atmosphere. Away from men and sex and innuendo.
Or maybe it wasn’t so strange after all.
Maybe I’d ended up here because it drew them into the light, the blatant advances and trashy pick-up lines dealt every night. I was always prepared. Never caught unaware.
“I’ll show you a wet dream. When I’m finished with you, you’ll be pissing in your sleep for the next month.” It was all a grumble under my breath as I filled three mugs for him and his two friends, who were, surprise, surprise, just as douchy as the first.
“Easy now, sweetheart.” Charlie’s soothing voice came at me from behind. “I see someone’s feeling extra feisty tonight. Don’t need you chasing the customers out the door.”
Charlie was the owner of Charlie’s, a bar boasting a prime spot on the river walk here in Savannah. It was super popular, packed night after night, people flocking in to unwind at the end of the day and watch the local bands. I’d been working here for the last four years, first working in the kitchen before I was old enough to be out front.
He was also the owner of the apartment I’d been renting above one of his buildings for the same amount of time. The guy wore a ratty T-shirt and an even rattier gray beard, but not even all that facial hair could conceal the genuine smile peeking out from underneath. The guy was as good as they got.
Charlie was all about the saving. Without a doubt, he’d saved me.
He grinned when I looked back at him. “What has you on edge, sugar?”
I hiked a nonchalant shoulder as I strutted past him toward the value-pack of douches leering at my approach. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
There was no holding back my sneer when I slid the assholes their beers.
Charlie snickered when I spun around and passed back by. “You sure about that?”
“Don’t go playin’ counselor, old man. I’m just fine.”
One of his teasing chuckles rippled from him, and he shook his index finger at me. “I bet I know what has those knickers in a twist…you were out with Shea Bear this afternoon trying on your bridesmaid’s dress. Bet you can’t stand to put on a frilly dress for a day.”
Shea and Sebastian had shocked us all when they’d gotten married in Las Vegas six months ago. They claimed that wedding was for them. This one? This one was to bring their friends and families together. A celebration of the life they were beginning together.
I was completely honored she had asked me to stand up as one of her bridesmaids. Escaping to this town, I’d never expected to find friends. To find kind, selfless people whose friendships would grow to the point where I’d consider them family.
So maybe Charlie was just glancing at the root of the problem. I actually didn’t mind the dress. In fact, I kind of loved it. Shea was having a country chic wedding, everything casual and flowy and pretty, just like her personality, and our rustic dresses were no exception.
My problem was the asshole they’d paired me with. The guy I’d be walking the aisle with. The one I’d have to do that dreaded dance with.
He was the one who had my panties in a twist—tangled and tied and snarled, among other things that had me wanting to scream in frustration.
The one who evoked feelings I refused to feel. Things that made that brittle, fractured spot hidden away somewhere in my chest want to crack.
And…shit.
He was walking through the door.
An electric current charged through the air, blistering as it traveled my skin. Tingles lifted in stark awareness and the breath punched from my lungs.
Want.
Need.
Like the boy held the power to expose every weak spot in my armor.
I hated he had this effect.
But my body didn’t seem to take my hatred into consideration when my heart hammered and sped. My stomach knotted in anticipation.
Catching my bottom lip between my teeth, I forced myself to focus on the task at hand. I rimmed four shot glasses with salt, poured tequila across them, garnished them with wedges of lime, all the while being painfully distracted by the knowledge he stood in all his rock ‘n’ roll glory thirty feet away.
The guys from Sunder, plus Shea, spilled in behind him.
Charlie bumped his hip into mine. “Look it there, sugar. Shea and the rest of the wedding party just walked in.”
As if I hadn’t noticed.
“Why don’t you call it a night, hang out, blow off some steam? You should be with the rest of them rather than working your fingers to the bone the way you do for me night after night. I can handle the place.”