Heaving the tub back on my hip, I start my ritual routine of filling the wells non-stop once the seven o’clock hour hits. My job is simple, look at what beers are being sold and restock when they get low. My biceps are going to be sick in another couple of weeks with as many trips back and forth I take a night. The music assaults my ears the moment I step around the corner. Tonight the speakers blast whatever top forty is on the radio, and for some reason everyone is amped up on “wiggling”. Using my foot to kick the half-door open, I slam the tub back on the stainless-steel counter and wipe the sweat trickling down my forehead. I am totally thankful for Jessica lending me a tank-top she had in her car, since my wardrobe lacks anything that doesn’t have sleeves or constitutes as gym attire.
“Hey Charlie? Can you run to the back and grab a couple bottles for me?” Jessica asks, shaking the empty bottle of Stoli’s Whipped Cream Vodka.
“Sure,” I mutter, turning around for another trek to the back when a certain tattooed bartender catches my attention. I can’t deny my physical attraction to him, yet my mental wellbeing reminds me daily that he is an asshat. Like a moth to a flame, I can’t seem to stop staring at him. His muscular upper body, the colorful sleeves that poke out the bottom of his black long sleeve button up that is rolled up to his elbows. His shaggy hair that seems like he rolled out of bed this morning, but everyone knows it’s carefully cut and styled this way. His entire body oozes sex appeal, but when he opens that trap of his I can’t help but cringe.
Suddenly, a pair of tan arms wrap around his shoulders and long blonde hair cascades over his chest. My heart immediately stops beating, sending a frozen like stature through my entire body. This single moment confirms everything my brain has been telling me since I met him. Greyson is nothing but a womanizing playboy. Obviously nothing more and definitely much less than I thought of. Forcing my feet to get moving, I scramble through the gate and disappear around the corner. Storming down the dark hallway, I grit my teeth while mentally scolding myself. There is no way I should be affected by seeing that man with another woman. A relationship is nowhere in my near future, let alone with a man who resembles everything I’m trying to get away from. My life is too fragile to let things like this effect my emotions. Sticking with the simple plan on just surviving is the best bet at moving forward in life.
“I take it that’s a no for dessert?” Greyson says cautiously, casually leaning against the wooden door frame.
“I’m pretty sure your girlfriend will have issues with us having dessert,” I bite back. Did this man really have the balls to try and date two women at once? That blonde was gorgeous, the exact opposite of me. “I really hope she kicks your ass for even suggesting something like that. Men like you are pigs, Greyson. Filthy, stubborn, small minded, pigs.” Grabbing the bottle off the stacked shelf, I narrow my eyes at him and forcefully push my way past him in the doorframe.
“You do know that pigs are highly intelligent mammals? I do believe in some backward sense of your friendliness that might have been a compliment.” Laughter leaves Greyson’s lips as I feel his presence quickly follow me.
“You are delusional. I’m working, and I bet that chick out there takes way more attention than what you have been offering her tonight.” Swinging the divider open, I refuse to look back and see if Greyson followed me behind the bar. Hopefully the douche took a hint and goes back to his girlfriend. I may be messed up in the head, but I refuse to be the reason for someone’s failed relationship. “Here, Jessica,” I yell over the music, dropping the bottle next to her.
“Thanks, Doll. These kids are animals tonight.” Jessica offers me a rushed smile and goes back to doing her thing. I love watching this woman work; she is fast, precise, and takes no bullshit from any customers. She is exactly what I would have hoped to turn out to be in life, had I not gone and screwed the pooch in my younger years. The next best thing for me is survival; plain, simple survival.
Glancing at the clock, I realize that last call will soon be approaching. Smiling, I place the last of the wells into the cooler and turn to watch the thinning crowd on the dance floor. The drunken happiness is evident in the crowd. Grinding on one another, laughter, and the vibe of the carefree morning seems to seep out of their alcohol infused pores. Blonde hair whips around the back of a tall guy, giving me a slight glimpse of Greyson’s girlfriend dancing up on someone other than Greyson.
“Alright, Jessica. Is their relationship really that dysfunctional that they let each other hit on other people and do things like that on the dance floor?” I ask, pointing directly at the blonde basically dry humping the guy she is with.
“Who are you talking about?” Jessica questions, giving me weird look.
“Her; the blonde that came in with Greyson.”
“Cameron?”
“Sure. If that’s her name.”
“She isn’t with Greyson, Charlie. That’s his best friend and manager of his shop. Why did you think they were together?” Jessica laughs and tosses a dirty rag into the laundry basket below.
“She was all over him earlier tonight; I just figured they were dating,” I say with a shrug. My stomach knots at the realization of my judgment earlier. There was no reason for my behavior with Greyson in the stock room, other than the lack of sanity and manners on my end. Sure, the man drives me insane, but he does not deserve the bitch card I tend to play daily.
“Greyson doesn’t date, Charlie. That man can’t even spell monogamy, let alone know the definition of it.” Jessica’s smile turns into a tight frown, giving away the obvious notion that she apparently tried that with him. “Trust me, Charlie. Men like that ruin the happily ever after that women dream of. Sure, he looks good naked and can charm a nun out of her robe, but that’s about it. Friendship with Greyson is possible, if you never expect anything that doesn’t benefit him to materialize.”
“Yeah, it’s really not like that. Truth be told, he crawls under my skin with the mere sound of his voice.” I sputter, my eyes now scanning the room for him.
Jessica laughs and steps back up to the bar as the DJ announces last call. “Don’t let him into your pants, Charlie.”
“Not a problem there,” I ramble. My eyes flit to the end of the bar, and immediately I’m caught off guard at the bright blue eyes staring right at me. Forcing myself to take a breath, Greyson lets out a cocky smirk, followed by a flirtatious wink. Gaining my composure, I shake my head at him. He seriously could ruin a moment in three seconds flat. Moments like this are a great reminder on why I don’t even want to have the man as a friend.
“What does a man have to do to get a girl’s attention?” A deep voice carries over the music, causing me to turn my attention back to the bar quickly. A smile spreads across my face without warning as I catch sight of the man from the beach yesterday.
“Will?” I ask tentatively. Letting the smile slip a litter further on my reddened cheeks. Why this man is getting a reaction out of my body has my mind spinning in circles. Normally, I run from any sort of male interaction, but this guy, hunched over the bar has me creeping toward him.
“I thought that was you back there, but wasn’t sure,” he lets out a light chuckle, flashing those pearly whites of his.
“Yeah, um…….I work here,” I offer up, not once thinking of the words escaping from my mouth again.
“Kind of figured. How do you like the bar so far?”
“It’s good. Different, but good.” Forcing my weird and awkward smile to a rest, I start to pick at the insides of my wrists, running my thumbs over the ridged scars I normally keep covered.
“Different can be good,” Will replies with another effortlessly smile.
“Yeah,” I say softly, still unsure of why my body is betraying me over this man. The opposite sex is not in my plan for the future; I need to survive and find myself once again. Flirting with this man standing on the other side of the bar is not high on my priority list. So why the heck am I feeling so girly at the moment?
“I haven�
�t run into you on the beach lately. Trust me; it’s not that I haven’t been looking either.”
“Yeah, I’ve been busy.”
“Well, maybe you can find some time in your busy schedule to have coffee with me? Say, tomorrow?”
“Sure,” slips out of my mouth before my brain has a moment to process what he just asked.
“Come on, Charlie. I’ll help you get stocked,” Greyson’s gruff voice startles me from behind. Turning around quickly, I scrunch my eyebrows and toss him a puzzled look. “Will,” Greyson’s voice clips sharply, nodding his head at the man, then firmly grabbing my elbow and pulling me back to the hallway.
“See you tomorrow, Charlie,” Will shouts with a grin, his dark eyes sparkling even in the dimly light place.
“Bye,” I managed to get out before disappearing around the corner. Yanking my elbow out of Greyson’s grasp, I plant my hands on my hips and narrow my eyes. “What in the hell was that about?”
“I offered to help you. The quicker we get done stocking the shelves, the sooner we can get some pie.”
“I’m not going out with you, Greyson.”
“It’s not a date, Charlie. I want pie and I’m sure you are hungry, too. Think of it as a meal between friends.”
“But we are not even friends,” I shout as he walks down the dark hallway. Tossing my hands in the air in frustration, I stomp down to the stock room, grumbling under my breath the entire way.
“You really shouldn’t make plans with people you don’t know,” Greyson remarks while opening the tall upright cooler.
“I don’t know you, and I’m going for pie, aren’t I?”
He whirls around with a cheesy grin. “You know me, Charlie.”
“Don’t make me regret this pie thing, Greyson,” I warn him, crossing my arms firmly against my chest.
“Wouldn’t dream of it, Babe.”
“Strike one.”
The twenty-four hour diner was surprisingly full for it being a little after three. Normally, I would have been crawling into bed, forcing myself to catch a couple hours of sleep before heading out for a run. But, for some strange reason, I agreed to grab a slice of pie with Greyson. This isn’t the start of a friendship, considering I still want to throttle the man when he opens that smug mouth of his, but a peace offering for my bitchy attitude. Besides, a slice of pie does sound delicious, and I can’t remember the last time I ate yesterday.
“What do you want?” Greyson asks, pushing the menu to the top of the table. “Personally, I need a piece of Oreo and maybe some black berry.”
“I’ll just take a slice of apple,” I tell the waitress, who was obviously drooling over Greyson’s relaxed demeanor. I still cannot get over why women find him so attractive.
“Can I get a glass of milk, too, Doll?”
“Sure,” the waitress giggles before leaving the table. It’s like the female species regresses to a wiggly preteen, finally getting that moment when their crush realizes they are alive. I have no hope for their future, or the female race for that matter.
“How do you like working at the bar?” Greyson asks, sending a wink over to the waitress as she places the tall glass of milk in front of him.
“I’m really getting sick of that question. Everyone always asks if I like the town, or what you just said. Is there like some handbook on steps for a conversation that I’m missing out on?”
“Slow down there, killer. It’s just a question. When people are trying to get to know you, they normally start off with the easy stuff. How you like the town, what brought you here, do you like the new job, easy things like that.”
Rolling my eyes, I take a sip of my water and cross my arms firmly against me. “It just gets annoying.”
“People are going to ask questions, Charlie. It’s part of human nature; people are naturally curious.”
“Well, curiosity killed the cat.” My legs start to bounce up and down uncomfortably under the table. I hate personal questions. I can answer the typical ‘were are you from, and do you like it here,’ kind of things, but anything else is just getting too personal.
“People are just seeking a friendship, Charlie. They don’t need to know your entire life’s story right off the bat, but just enough to make sure a crazy hasn’t moved into town.” Greyson sits up straighter in the red vinyl booth, letting his elbows rest on the table. His forearm muscles flex as he clasps his hands together, letting the overhead light dance among his tattoos. He is a smooth talker, I’ll give him that. Knowing exactly what to say to get the reaction he wants is a gift that very few people have. Mom was one of those people. She could talk you into or out of something before you even realized it was happening. The world needs more people like that; people that are willing to help others in need. Sadly, I expect Greyson to use his gift for his own pleasure, reaping the benefits of a smooth tongue and new college freshmen.
“Where is our pie?” I grumble, glancing around the restaurant quickly.
“We can get it to go and head back to my place if you want.” Greyson smirks, leaning back once again on the old worn seats.
“You have a way of completely ruining things in a single sentence.” Now, I know this man just uses the world as his playground; a friendship is defiantly no longer on the table.
“Just offering up my services to the new girl in town.”
Shaking my head, I grab my purse and slide out of the booth. I’m in no mood to deal with his shit right now. Why I ever thought getting pie with him was a good idea is the million dollar question. Sometimes I really worry about my mental stability.
Chapter 8
Greyson
“Charlie, wait. I am just kidding,” I call out after her. The moment I think I am getting somewhere with this woman, I say something stupid and she bolts. Comments like that slip out of my mouth without much thought, and normally I get an entirely different reaction. But, I can’t seem to break through to Charlie. Trying to stop the sexual comments is going to take work, and for some unknown reason, I think she may be worth it.
“Will you please stop?” Grabbing the car door, I hold it in place as her eyes look up into mine. Her dark chocolate iris sends shockwaves through my body. You can see a quick glance into her soul, showing pain covered by hidden insecurities.
“I need to go, Greyson.” Her voice is meek and broken, like she is fighting tears from spilling down over her face.
“I was only kidding, Charlie. I’m sorry if my stupid comment crawled under your skin. I promise I meant nothing by it, other than gauging your reaction, which now I see was an obvious mistake.”
“We can’t be friends, Greyson. I’m sorry, but I really need to go.” Reaching for the handle, she yanks the door from my grasp and shuts it. Shoving the keys into the ignition, she tosses the car into reverse and without even a glance over at me, pulls out of the small parking space. She wipes the side of her face and pulls out of the parking lot, leaving me standing here, questioning what really just happened.
The mystery of Charlie is a complicated thing. The majority of women are easy to figure out; a couple nice compliments, maybe a dinner or two, and they spill their guts. Then, all it takes is using that information to my advantage. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to get into a woman’s panties, just a little sweet talking and maybe some booze.
Clearly the whole pie thing this morning was an obvious disaster, since she bailed at a fairly non sexual comment. I invite every girl back to my place, being a joke or not. I just didn’t think she would get all defensive over a remark that small. Call it ignorance on my part, but I just can’t see how she managed to flip a switch that fast, running away with a single stupid comment.
“Greyson, are you even listening to me?” Cameron snarls, tossing a roll of paper towels at my head.
“Sorry,” I mutter, dodging at the last second.
“I have been talking to you for the last five minutes on the remodel of the shop, and you have been thinking of porn or something in that small brain of yo
urs.” Cameron tosses the last roll of towels into the box and glares at me. We have until the end of the day to get the supply room and my office packed up and ready for the contractors tomorrow.
“Why did I agree to this again?” Rubbing my hands over my tired eyes, I slouch against the wall and let the hard brick interior rub against my head.
“Well, we have to update to fire code for this building if you want to keep the shop. Second, this place is due for a remodel, and I am excited for a week long paid vacation. Maybe you should have gotten more sleep last night instead of tasting that girl’s pie.”
“You can be a real bitch sometimes,” I snap, heaving myself up off the wall.
“Yes, but that is the reason you love me. Now, I’ll finish up in here. Go start on the office. You really should have made the guys help with this crap. I could have been relaxing poolside with a cosmo right about now, but no. I have to wait until tomorrow to get on that plane for a little piece of heaven.” Cameron grins while shooing me out of the back room.
Shaking my head, I step over the massive pile of cardboard boxes meant for storage, and hit the light switch next to the door.
“Ass,” Cameron calls out in the darkness.
Snickering, I toss open my office door and sneer at the massive amount of work that lies before me. I had yet to pack anything in this place, even though I knew about the remodel for at least four months now. Procrastination is an art form, and clearly I have it mastered. I knew closing the shop for a week and getting the sprinklers and air ducts updated are things that have to be done, but I hate going without the buzz of the gun for more than a couple days. Tattooing has a calming vibe that radiates through my bones. Sure, the person on the other end might not think that way, but watching my drawings take shape on someone’s skin, wiping away the excess ink, making sure the colors are saturated enough to hold, is really my at home kind of feeling.
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