by Skyla Madi
“Sorry, I’m extra nervous today.” He says as he pulls a towel from the bar and runs it along the smooth surface, collecting stray drops of water.
“Why?” I ask, stuffing my coat underneath the bar.
“Mr. O’Ryan is having a meeting here.” He flicks his bright green eyes over to the corner of the room and sure enough, Jesse is there, sitting back in his chair with four other men. “Every now and then they all watch me. It’s making me edgy.”
My stomach drops. Well, shit. I purse my lips, hoping my façade doesn’t slip. “Don’t screw up and you’ll be fine.” I tell him with a comforting slap on the shoulder.
I breathe a sigh of relief and turn around. The kid clearly doesn’t remember me. I bend low and pull a tray of glasses from the dishwasher. As I straighten my posture and lift the heavy tray up onto the bench behind me, I spot him, Jesse, in the reflection of the long mirror. He’s walking in long strides towards me and I notice he’s changed his clothes. A nice steel gray three piece suit all fastened up with a sleek, black tie. My stomach flips as my chest tightens and I hate it. Never have I ever been so affected by the opposite sex—even with Scott. I blame it all on the fact Jesse never satisfied me the night we were together and now my hormones are all over the place. Dropping my stare, I grab the glasses and lower them into the chilled draw.
“You didn’t tell me you were working today.”
I drag in a light inhale before expelling it and turning around. I glance at the kid next to me who’s doing a really good job at cleaning the bar and pretending not to listen. I look back to Jesse whose large, strong hands rest on the bar’s surface.
“I was called in.”
The same awkward silence that fell between us before he left my apartment earlier rears its ugly head, but I don’t let my eyes drop from his. It doesn’t take long for his attention to flick between me and the other boy before he finally removes his hands from the bar and stuffs them into the pockets of his jacket.
“I’ll have a bottle of Penfolds Grange and five glasses.” He turns around and saunters back to his table without a glance over his shoulder.
I think about asking the kid to do it, but as I turn to him and open my mouth, he quickly engages himself with a customer. What. An. Ass. I peer further along the bar, but all of the staff appear too busy with their own customers and tasks so, with a huff, I crouch low and pull a bottle of Penfolds Grange from the expensive wines fridge to the left of where I’m standing. Turning around, I snatch up a metal bucket, scoop some ice into it, open the bottle of wine and drop it into the bucket. On the hooks that circle the lip of the bucket, I slide on the wine glasses and grab a towel. I feel stupid serving Jesse at his own place of work and I feel stupid being the only employee in here who has seen him naked.
I hang the towel over my arm and rest the bucket against it. With my head held high, I exit the bar area and make my way through the field of guests. It’s not often I leave the bar area. Normally, if you want a drink you get it yourself—unless you’re in the hotel restaurant. There, we have waiters and waitresses. But, I guess when you pretty much own the place, you can make your staff do whatever you want.
Jesse’s eyes are on me as I approach the table. I can feel them on my skin, and from the corner of my eye I see his face angled in my direction.
“Good evening, gentlemen.” I lower the bucket and towel to the table.
I glance around at his company. It must be hard for a man like Jesse to do business. He’s so much younger than everyone else and I imagine they don’t take him too seriously.
One by one I slip the wine glasses from their hooks and circle the table, placing the glasses in front of them. This kind of formality is the reason why I became a bartender instead of a waitress. Luckily, my bartending course covered appropriate wine serving etiquette.
Once all the glasses are in their place and I’m back to where I started, I finally take a peek at Jesse. He’s watching me with bright eyes, his face the perfect picture of amusement. Ever so quickly, I shoot him a small scowl.
“How long have you been working here?” One of the gentlemen asks me, forcing the polite smile back on my face.
Contemplating his question, I pull the wine bottle out and flash the label around the table. Look, this particular bottle cost more than some people make in a week. There’s another thing I hate about wine drinkers. They’re show offs.
“Years,” I reply with a polite smile.
I make my rounds, filling the glasses a quarter of the way up, and ignoring the urge to chug it back myself.
“And how do you like being under Mr. O’Ryan?”
I bite my lip to fight a grin. Great choice of words. Jesse clears his throat and it snags my attention. His handsome face is angled down and his brown eyes flare with warning. I let myself smile, despite his look. He should know me better than that.
“His effort is…” Oh, the words I can use. “adequate.”
I’ll let him off the hook this time. Jesse’s jaw tightens as the table erupts with laughter. When it comes time to pour the wine into his glass, I fill it slightly higher than the quarter mark knowing very well he’s going to need it. After I’ve poured the wine, I place it back in its ice bucket and I farewell them all before heading back to the bar.
Over here, behind the wood, I can breathe easier. It was a little unprofessional of me to make such a comment about my boss, but I couldn’t help it. The opportunity presented itself and I took it.
Sue me.
Chapter Seven
Jesse
A few days later
I tap my index finger along the cool edge of my fork. Tonight is the first of two dinners with Alix. The last time I saw her, she was implying that I’m an ‘adequate’ lover to a group of gentlemen I was trying to push into investing in a new hotel located in Dubai. Of course, they didn’t know the reasoning behind her remark, nor did they hear the implication, but I did, and it pissed me right off.
When she called a few days later to arrange a time for dinner, I was very short with her. She has to know that I won’t take her insolence, especially when it comes to business. After I stewed on it, I came to realize it was entirely my fault. I made her bring the wine over so I take full responsibility for what she said in front of any investors. Luckily for me, they liked her. They even asked if I’d ship her to Dubai to run the bar in the Tempt Hotel there. They liked the way she spoke and the way she looked in our uniform. Strangely, their comments didn’t sit well with me and my response to them was quite abrupt and rude. Thankfully, they were too influenced by the wine to notice my absolute offense.
With a sigh, I sit back in my chair and glance around the restaurant. I chose something a little more to Alix’s style this time. She wasn’t a big fan of the French food and even managed to order a steak. Naturally, I found it only fitting to invite her to a steakhouse. The atmosphere is nice—a lot different to what I’m used to—and I feel out of place in my black two piece suit. Wanting to avoid curious stares, I undo the two buttons at the middle of the jacket and shrug out of it.
Alix is running late, but I expected as much considering she doesn’t own a car. It’s her own fault and even though I offered to pick her up, she declined with a scoff.
I drop my jacket onto the floor next to me and lean forward on my elbows. I see her then, walking in through the large front door, decorated with bales of hay and cowboy hats. Her golden eyes scan over the restaurant as she flicks her long, brown hair over her shoulder. She looks great in a shrunken flannel shirt with the buttons open. The white top she wears underneath is tucked into a short denim skirt and her feet are covered by small, brown boots with a moderate heel. Truth be told, she’s dressed like she was born and raised in a barn… and she looks hot.
As my stare flicks over her voluptuous hips, generous bust and up to her face, she spots me and I smile politely, as though I was never overtly ogling her. She walks toward me with the usual sway in her hips and perkiness in her steps. Dare I s
ay, she looks excited to see me and maybe, just maybe, the strange twinge in the pit of my stomach is excitement too.
She laughs as she approaches the table. “You don’t come to steakhouses often, do you?”
She makes fun of my attire, but her eyes give away her true thoughts. She might not ever admit it, but she likes a man in a suit. I push myself out of my seat and step around the table toward her. “Is it that obvious?”
“Just a little bit.”
I extend my hand and she puts hers in mine. Her skin cools the inside of my burning palm as I pull it to my lips and kiss the back of her hand. I linger there for a moment, marveling at the way her entire body tightens and her breath catches.
“It’s good to see you.” I say, dropping her hand.
“You too.” She avoids my eyes as she pulls out her own chair and lowers herself into it. I take note of the way her cheeks flush a sexy shade of pink and I smirk at the idea of making her feel flustered. I’m usually the one to suffer at the hands of the dreaded burning cheeks.
We barely talk as our orders are placed and served. It isn’t until Alix has almost devoured her fries she decides to start a conversation with me.
“I’m sorry about what I said… a few days ago at the hotel.”
I search her face, waiting for a twitch of the lip or quirk of the eyebrow—anything to tell me she’s joking. Alix is sincerely apologizing? Could it be true? It has to be. Her eyes are downcast to her plate as she sheepishly pushes the tip of two fries through the remnants of a puddle of ketchup.
“I shouldn’t have made a comment like that in front of the people you were with.”
Her honey-whiskey irises finally flick onto my face and just to torture her a little bit, I grab my wine glass and draw it to my lips. For her added discomfort, I take a big, long mouthful all while keeping my stare on hers. A good fifteen seconds pass before I place my glass back on the table and give in.
“It’s alright.” I tell her. “Water under the bridge.”
She straightens her posture and her perkiness returns. From there, conversation flows. No awkward questions or sexual innuendos are spoken. As we drink glass after glass of wine we become more comfortable, more relaxed and before we know it, the staff are kicking us out because they’re closing.
“I’ve never sat so long in a restaurant before.” I tell her as we stroll along a boardwalk. My head spins in violent patterns every now and again, but not enough to make me completely lose my composure. Alix, however, seems almost unaffected by the alcohol… until she speaks. Every now and again, she’ll slur a word.
“Me neither. Then again, I hardly ever eat outside of my house.”
I peer around the empty boardwalk and vacant beach. I left my car at the restaurant a few blocks back and make a quick mental note to call my personal assistant to come pick it up later.
“Why don’t you go out? Don’t you have friends?”
Alix hooks her arm around mine and leans her body weight against me. “Sure, I have friends. I just prefer the ones in my books.”
That can’t be it. I doubt a fictional character can keep you company enough to choose them over your friends. Granted, I’m not one to talk. I have employees, associates and business partners, not friends.
Alix sighs. “They’re all married with children—too busy to keep up with my problems.”
“And why aren’t you married with children?”
A silence falls and the only noise comes from our shoes tapping against the loose, wooden planks.
“Because it’s not what I want. I’m only twenty eight. I want to travel—have an adventure—and then maybe, when I’ve found the right person, I’ll settle down.”
How simple would that be? I’ve already traveled the world and I’m not twenty eight, not anymore. Not to mention the fact I haven’t found ‘the one’ nor do I have the time to do so. My window for marriage, children and simplicity is gone, as far as I’m concerned, but Alix is still in with a chance. She has plenty of time for all of those things… and for some weird reason the thought of her doing it doesn’t sit well with me.
As we walk, a small ramp veers off the main track and leads down to the white sand. Of course she wants to take it. I hesitate briefly, not wanting to get sand in a suit and a pair of shoes that probably cost more than this entire dilapidated boardwalk. Then I realize I have no choice. Alix is going to go onto the sand regardless of whether I come with her or not. With a heavy exhale, I follow her down the rickety ramp and onto the sand. With my very first step, it fills my shoes and I cringe while Alix dips low and pulls off her boots. Naturally, I do the same. If I’m going to feel the sand between my toes it might as well be outside the confinements of leather. When her feet are free, she drops herself onto the sand and pulls her knees into her chest. I join her, despite my worries of getting sand in my suit.
“How long has it been since you’ve visited the beach?” She asks, and it’s another simple question.
“Too long.”
Alix lays back, rolls onto her side, and props her head on her hand. How she can be so comfortable with sand all over her body is beyond me.
“You know, we’re halfway through our little deal, Jesse.” The mischievous quirk of her lips is visible even in the moonlight. It’s captivating and I almost smile back. “Is there something I should know before we get there?”
“Like what?”
She shrugs with a girly giggle. “What kind of things are you into? Spanking, maybe?”
I snort and tear my eyes from her face. “I was wondering when you were going to ask me something completely inappropriate. I’m surprised you lasted for as long as you did.”
“You’re avoiding the question. How do you like your sex?”
Her question is absurd and yet she asks it casually—like someone would a coffee. I run my fingers through my hair. “I don’t know. Normal. I like normal sex.”
Alix scoffs and shoves my knee. “Come on, Jesse. Live a little.”
I don’t know why she’s so interested in learning such intimate information. “You said we don’t have to have sex in order for you to receive your…” I clear my throat. “Thing.”
Her eyes flare at my avoidance of the word orgasm. “Oh, we will.”
“And what makes you so certain?”
She inches closer. “Do you think that when all of this is over and I’m naked, and panting, and begging you to do it, you’ll refuse?”
Fuck. The image in my head alone is enough to have me caving in. I hook my fingers around my tie and loosen it to let some air in. Alix’s eyes darken and her lips pull wider. I wish she hadn’t worn lip gloss. I really like it when a woman wears lip gloss.
“I’m thirty-three. I think I’ll manage.”
She studies me for a moment… until all traces of amusement fall from her face. “I’m a whole lot of woman, Jesse. You’ll cave in a second.”
It’s a promise. There’s no uncertainty in her voice, only confidence. After a few quick seconds I lean closer, making sure my intensity matches hers. “Are you fishing for a bet?”
“Maybe… or maybe I want a confession.”
Well, that’s not going to happen. “I’ll give it to you, your confidence is admirable.”
She flicks her eyebrows. “Confidence is key.”
My face lingers close to hers, but not once do her eyes drop to my mouth—not like they did when I caught her in the stairwell. Maybe I don’t have the effect on her I thought I did. For the briefest second, I lose confidence and a victorious grin spreads across Alix’s face.
“See? Confidence makes the difference. When your stare momentarily skittered from mine, you sucked all the heat out of this situation.”
I narrow my eyes. There’s no way she could see that.
“When you look at me, a fire ignites in the pit of my stomach. The longer you look, the longer you talk, the longer you touch; these all stoke the flames. But you’re always thinking, and everyone knows passion doesn’t come from
the brain.” A gentle breeze blows a lock of brown hair into her face and she swats it away. “You see, I like a man like you—a man that is everything I both read and dream about. You’re tall and wide and sexy, but you don’t know what to do with it all. I know I’m not much, but I own all of me. I walk around like I’m the fucking Queen Bee and I’m not ashamed of it.”
Oh, joy. More compliments. “And your point is?”
“My point is, it won’t kill you to enjoy at least one thing in your life and it sure as hell won’t kill you to block your thoughts, drop the suit and innocent man act, and take me to the fucking moon and back. Call me names, pull my hair, spank my ass—I don’t care—just do something you’ll enjoy.”
As she finishes her sentence, all I can think about is her sweet breath as it caresses my face, quick and certain. I hadn’t realized I’d leaned in so far. I’m close enough to flick out my tongue and lick her bottom lip. With a sharp inhale, she swallows the distance between us, forcing her lips to crash with mine. I push myself roughly onto her, careful not to drop the bulk of my weight onto her frame. Curvaceous or not, women still have small bones.
With my knees, I force her thighs apart and immediately, I feel her flex her hips into mine as she moans once into my mouth. All rational thoughts fade away as my current existence begins to revolve around her. In this moment, as my mouth consumes hers, I couldn’t care less about my father—about my job. All I want is to do something I enjoy… and I enjoy Alix very much. I become so wrapped up in her and the way her body moulds perfectly against mine, I don’t recognize my own hand as it curls around the hem of her tank top and bra. I yank on the fabric until her generous bust pours out an inch from my face. Then, I pull my mouth from hers. Another breeze blows and her nipple hardens to its maximum point as her skin erupts with goose bumps. I pause momentarily, knowing very well that this is wrong. To do such a thing in public is unacceptable and even though a warning floats around the front of my skull, flashing its lights, I can’t find the rational urge to stop myself. Despite my better judgment—a judgment that has kept me out of trouble my entire life—I close the distance between her nipple and my mouth. With a sharp inhale, her back arches. My blood rushes, making my head spin and my heart pound. Alix’s hands claw at my hips and pull at my shirt. I feel the wind blow against my bare lower back as she tugs on my clothes. What a wonderful feeling it is to completely let go of your surroundings—to be involved in the situation unfolding and not in the details.