by Gina Drayer
“And you like them stiff,” Michael said.
“Lots of things are better stiff,” she said. She tossed her hair and looked at Lee. “Isn’t that right, hon?”
“That’s what the guy from the morgue says,” Lee said.
Claira laughed, but it was as fake as her hair color, and that wasn’t mirth that flashed in her eyes. “You’re clever … for a waitress.”
Dylon watched Lee visibly choke back a retort. She just smiled, put the drinks on her tray, and headed for the table.
Normally, the blonde was exactly the kind of distraction he’d welcome on a slow night. But despite her direct attempts at seduction, there wasn’t that hot smoldering burn he got deep in his soul every time he was around Lee. He could take the woman up to his apartment, but Dylon knew it wasn’t going to satisfy that itch under his skin. There was only one woman who could do that for him. And that spicy redhead was shooting murderous looks at the both of them from across the bar.
“It was really nice talking with you, Claira, but something’s come up. If you’re still interested in trying on something new, might I suggest Michael? My bartender here is also one of New York’s bravest.” Dylon turned to Michael, including him in the conversation. “What’s it been? Seven years now with your company?”
“You’re a firefighter?” Claira asked, perking up. “I love a man in uniform.”
“I come from a long line of firefighters.” Michael smiled his lopsided grin that the women loved, and Claira practically squealed.
Lee came up to the bar with a wad of cash. “Here are your tips,” she said, handing over the bills to Michael. All the while, she skillfully avoided looking at Dylon standing right next to her. “I already cashed out my only open check. I cleaned the empty tables, took out the trash, and stocked all the stations. Do you mind if I leave early? I’ve got a headache.”
Lee gave Dylon the side-eye then, and he had to choke back a laugh. Fuck, she was even sexier when she was pissed.
“I can do the rest of closing by myself,” Michael said. “Get some rest.”
Lee left through the back without acknowledging her boss or the blonde. After a few seconds, Dylon couldn’t hold back the laugh any longer. “I concede. You were right.”
“I’m glad to hear you’re up for the challenge.” Michael laughed with him and winked at Claira. “Now, let’s just see if you can catch her.”
There was a look between the two of them, and Dylon suddenly felt like he’d been had. But it didn’t matter, Michael was right. He couldn’t ignore his attraction to Lee any longer.
Chapter Eight
For the next few days, Lee did her best to avoid Dylon as she worked. Watching him blatantly flirt with that woman had bothered her more than she was willing to admit. She was irrationally angry with Dylon for ignoring her and jealous of the blonde’s easy flirtation. And she didn’t have a right to feel either of those things.
She wanted to keep pretending that she didn’t desire this arrogant man, but that ship had sailed. The truth was that she wanted him, and even more, she wanted him to want her. And that, above everything else, made her angry. She was angry with herself for letting it matter, and she was angry at him for … For being himself.
It wasn’t rational, but it was honest. And the fact that he didn’t think twice about flirting with a woman who obviously wanted to screw him was a reality check. She was better off avoiding him, no matter what his charms. She should be relieved about coming to that realization sooner rather than later, but somehow it just made her sad.
But even as she was writing him off as a lover, Dylon’s attitude toward her had changed. He was more relaxed around her. He started teasing her and on occasion, touching her with the same friendliness he showed the other women in his life. It made working together more pleasant—and a whole lot more complicated.
Despite her constant mental reminder that Dylon was off limits, Lee looked forward to every second she spent working alongside him. She tried to rationalize the warm tingling feelings she got every time she was with him as simple loneliness. She needed friends. The bond she was building with Abbie reminded her how nice it was to have people who cared about you. And seeing Dylon interact with Cash and Michael, even with Abbie and the other servers, suggested that he would be a good friend to have.
There was nothing wrong with being friends. Was there?
Saturday night the bar was busy, and Lee finally felt like she had a steady footing in this new environment. But occasionally, something would happen that reminded her how different this world was from the one she’d left behind.
She’d just finished seating three men who were in their forties. It wasn’t unusual for the after-work crowd to stop by on the weekends, but these guys weren’t any of her regulars. She suspected that they’d started drinking before they came in because the smell of liquor clung to them like bad cologne.
“Is this your first time here?” she asked while passing out the menus.
“Yes,” the older man said. “And we’re not going to be back. We’re from out of town.”
“Well, you’re in luck. We even serve people from out of town.”
She smiled at the man, but her joke fell flat. She ran down the dinner specials and left the rude men to make a selection.
Clearly, they weren’t happy to be in the big Apple. She could relate. If she had a choice, she’d be somewhere far, far away right now. Not that it was the city’s fault. Her anxiety stemmed from not being able to take advantage of all the things she used to love about New York City. She lived like a mole, hiding. Going out took money she couldn’t afford to spend, and the risk of being seen by someone she knew was too great.
She needed to check in with Janet. She’d gotten a new phone, but the ADA didn’t have her new number. After the texts, Lee was more cautious about what she shared with Janet.
Thoughts of the texts and a possible leak at the DA’s office brought back the fear and anger that she’d managed to bury under work and her frustrating feelings for Dylon.
When she came back with their drink order, the mood at the table had lightened, and the men were friendly. A little too friendly for her current state of mind. It was part of the job that she was getting used to dealing with: the teasing and the good-natured flirting that she attracted by virtue of being a waitress. But these men danced the line between flirting and harassment, and Lee wasn’t quite sure how to handle it.
“Are all waitresses in this city as hot as you, Legs?” one man asked as she brought back their drinks.
“No,” she said flatly. “The union has specific standards for the waitresses at bars that vary with the category and price of their liquor license.”
“The cheaper the beer, the hotter the waitresses?” his friend suggested.
“Can I get you anything else?” she asked, ready to be away.
“You aren’t being very friendly to lonely travelers,” the first guy said. “We’re just having some fun.”
Her voice was sharp, and she might have felt ashamed, but when he brushed his hand along her leg, slipping under her skirt, the guy had crossed a line. She stepped back. “Your idea of fun will get your nose broken if you touch me again.”
“What? Got some big and mean boyfriend, do you?”
“Actually, she does the light work herself,” Dylon said, coming up behind her. “She could break your nose in a heartbeat, friend.”
A man jumped up. “Who the fuck are you? No one invited you into this conversation.”
“You invited me the second you laid a hand on my girl.” Dylon glowered at the group and put his arm around Lee. “Why don’t you guys finish your drinks and leave?”
Taking his lead, Lee snuggled into his solid chest, immersing herself in his warm cedar scent. She knew that his protection would extend to any one of the servers, but for just a second, Lee imagined what it would be like to actually be his girl. What would it be like to have that fierce protectiveness all the time?
“You need to learn to mind your own business,” one of the other men said. “We were just having some laughs. I’m sure the owner of this dump doesn’t appreciate your boyfriend harassing his customers.”
“As a matter of fact, he does appreciate it when I stop drunk men from assaulting the staff,” Dylon said. “I know this because I happen to be the owner of this dump. And now I’m asking you to leave.”
The man who’d had his hand under her skirt picked up his mostly full drink. “We aren’t done drinking.”
Before he could put the glass back down, Dylon grabbed him by the shirt collar and jerked him out of the chair and to his feet. “You’re mistaken. See, you are already on your feet and headed for the door.” He looked at the others. “I intend to toss your friend out into the street now. If you’re entertaining any thoughts about interfering, I’ll let my girl kick your asses. I suspect you’d find that embarrassing, since someone here is bound to video it and post it on the internet.” He nodded at the cell phones raised at nearby tables. “Of course if you’d like to see yourselves go viral by having your asses handed to you by a little waitress, then be my guest. She can use the exercise.”
With that, Dylon yanked the man forward and marched him to the door. The other guys stared at Lee. Deciding to play up the role Dylon had made for her, she put her hands on her hips and planted her feet firmly. “I’ll count to three,” she said.
Sheepishly, the two men got up and followed their friend out the front door just as Dylon was returning.
“Good choice,” he told them.
When he reached the center of the room, he was greeted by a round of warm applause. Always a showman, he took off his hat and bowed. “And now back to our regularly scheduled drinking.”
Lee stopped Dylon on his way back to the bar and pulled him aside. “Thanks for that,” she said. “I wasn’t quite sure what to do.”
“You were doing fine without me,” he told her. His voice was warm, reassuring. He squeezed her shoulder, and that simple action sent a warm rush of heat all over her body. “I only jumped in because he touched you. I know their type. It was just going to get worse as the night wore on.”
“I tried to be firm with them,” she said, feeling stupid. “I’m still learning how to handle those kinds of clients.”
“You were handling it just fine. About all you can do with jerks like that is stand your ground. Let them know you’re not playing hard to get,” he said and tucked a loose curl behind her ear. It was a mindless gesture but felt more intimate than a kiss.
Lee swallowed hard and tried to keep her composure while every cell in her body struggled to lean into his touch. “You make it sound like I knew what I was doing.”
He winked and pulled back his hand. She immediately mourned the loss. “I think you’ve got good instincts.”
She wondered if she did because her instinct had been to fall into his arms and kiss him. Fortunately, he turned and headed back to the bar.
As she went back to work, she saw Cash and Kim come in laughing. They looked incredibly happy.
“We’ve finally agreed on the date,” Kim said as she kissed Dylon’s cheek. “The fifth.”
“Of what? December?” Dylon looked between his two friends and shook his head. “That’s two weeks.”
“We don’t want to wait any longer,” Kim said.
“More like we can’t wait much longer,” Cash said and rubbed his bride-to-be’s stomach.
Dylon’s eyes got big, and he pulled Cash into a crushing hug. “Congratulations, man. So are we all flying off to Vegas for a shotgun wedding?”
“Sorry,” she said. “We thought about that, but we’re both too busy. We need something closer to home. Really close, like upstairs. Just think, you’ll be able to walk to the reception.”
Dylon pounded his fist on the bar. “Mi casa es su casa. And don’t even think about breaking out that checkbook. It’s my treat.”
Cash shook his head. “Dylon, we couldn’t—”
“Don’t finish that sentence,” Dylon warned. “I’ve already thrown out one asshole today. Don’t make me embarrass you in front of Kim.”
Their joy tugged at Lee’s already tender heart. She wanted to be happy for them, but it was hard when she felt so damn alone and isolated. Kim and Cash had each other, work, close friendships—their lives were full. Dylon might not have a relationship, but he had his bar, his friends, and no shortage of women to satisfy his needs.
All Lee had was an empty, lonely apartment, a fake job as a waitress, and the vague hope of getting her life back someday. Oh, she also had a trial to look forward to and an unknown threat on her life that hung over her like the blade of a guillotine.
Tomorrow she’d call Janet and arrange a meeting. She had to get some real answers because she didn’t know how much longer she could continue to live like this.
At the end of the night, Lee wandered into the back room where Dylon was working on the bills for the week. The ancient computer was the only source of light. The small monitor illuminated only the pile of papers he was trying to sort through, and he almost didn’t see her as she stood in the doorway watching him.
“It’s not much of a show,” he muttered, looking up from the invoices.
“Is there a problem?” she asked.
“The problem is I’m keeping the books,” he said and pinched the bridge of his nose. “The damn numbers never make any sense without being bludgeoned into submission, which is something I’m not good at. In fact, according to my sister, I’m lousy at it—a total loss.”
“You don’t have an accountant?” she asked and walked into the room.
“Just the guy who does our taxes.” Dylon leaned back in the rickety office chair, grateful for the interruption. “Before Abbie joined us, one of my waitresses used to keep the books for me.”
“Maybe I can help.”
He crossed his arms and stared at her. “If you could, that would be fantastic. Would you care to invest about a million dollars in a bar? I’d happily I hand you the keys, and I’ll retire down to a cozy Mexican beach.”
“You’d never do that.” She laughed and leaned a hip against the desk, stretching out her shapely legs. The position was just meant to rest her tired feet, but Dylon immediately thought about how easy it would be to slide his hand up that flirty skirt of hers and pull her down on his lap. He was so consumed with that, though, he almost missed her next words. “Without your bar, you’d have to go to someone else’s place to pick up busty blondes. Here they come to you in droves. Like a never-ending buffet.”
He grimaced. Her words sounded exactly like Michael’s from the other day. “I think I’m over blondes.” He shifted back in his chair and looked up just in time to catch the pretty blush spreading over her cheeks. “Besides, I doubt you have that much money tucked under your mattress.”
“Not quite. My savings are a bit short.”
“Well, then. I’m not sure how you might help.”
She pointed at the papers. “Well, I can’t finance your fantasy retirement, but I do know a little about bookkeeping.”
“You do?” he asked, perking up.
“I took accounting in school, and I’ve had some experience with helping people.”
Lee never talked about her past. She was staring a hole into the floor and kept fidgeting with the belt around her waist. He didn’t press, but he also didn’t let her off the hook this time. He merely watched in silence until the discomfort became too much, and she continued.
“I’ve worked with a few small businesses. With bookkeeping and other banking things.”
“Really?” he said, puzzled by her vagueness. “If you can do that kind of work, why are you waiting tables? That kind of work has got to pay better.”
“I don’t really want to talk about it,” she said, shutting down.
“Sorry,” Dylon said holding up his hands. “I know you don’t like to talk about your deep, dark secret and totally mysterious life. I agreed to stay out
of it.”
“It’s okay.” She looked up and sighed. “Maybe I just prefer the ambience here.”
“I wasn’t trying to pry. I was just curious. And, forgetting my promise, I was trying to get to know you a bit. Honestly, you could be a Russian spy, and I wouldn’t care.” He grinned, trying to lighten the mood. “If you can straighten out my books, then I’m grateful you’re working here and not at some big company.”
“It’s just complicated,” she told him. “But my offer is serious, though. I’d be happy to do your bookkeeping.”
“You already pick up an extra shift a week. Why would you want to do the books?”
“Call me curious. I’m interested in seeing how the bar works—the financial end of things. You do a pretty steady business, but I’ve noticed a few things you could be doing better.” Lee’s eyes brightened as she began to talk and that dark cloud that usually followed her around lifted. “I hate when people find it hard to understand their financials. So, if you wouldn’t consider it prying into your affairs, I’d love to go over your books and see if I can find a way to simplify things so that it’s easier for you to see what’s going on.”
He put his hands on the papers. “Are you telling me that there is more than one way to do this?”
“Not really. But there are dozens of programs out there that can help make it simple, and which one is the best for you to use one depends on your business. Once I get everything entered and have an idea where you are, we can even talk about budgeting, your loans and lines of credit, and a dozen other things that can help increase your income.”
“An accounting class, huh?” He stacked the papers into a nice pile and handed them over. “If you can make this system better, you will officially be my favorite person in the world. Roxie is tired of my excuses, and I’m tired of hearing her yell at me.”
“Roxie is so sweet. Does she really yell at you?”
“No. The truth is she’s pretty laid back about it. I’m the one who feels like an idiot for not getting this stuff.”