I haven’t spoken to him since my shift started three hours ago. I’d say it’s because I don’t want to talk to him or vice versa, but I haven’t had much of a chance. Once I spoke to Dallas when we saw each other, he disappeared into the back of the restaurant while Vada and I finished setting up to open for the dinner shift, and ever since, the place has been packed.
That’s not to say I don’t want to talk to Dallas. I’m just not sure I want to talk to him right now. I still don’t understand if he likes me or not. Most of our interactions are seeded in snide comments and brush-offs. The only exception was when he offered to trim my bushes for me. Although it was a sliver of kindness extended on his part, there was a part of me that didn’t want to give in to him. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. Instead, I finished trimming the bushes on my own. Luckily, I was able to stay on the ladder this time.
I’m three hours into my shift and I know I’ve already made more money than I have in a long time. As soon as one of the customers sitting at the bar leaves, I clean the counter as the next person fills it. Vada’s been serving most of the tables all night, moving just as smoothly out on the floor as she did at the bar when I met her yesterday.
She spent the entire night training me last night, and after the first few groups of guests, I learned the drink and food menu well enough for us to split up. Although I was glad to be making money, I was also nervous to be working the bar on a busy Friday night.
Music booms and bounces off the brick walls, drowning out the loud chatter. A man takes a seat at the barstool in front of the spot I just cleaned. I toss the rag aside and greet him with the best smile I’m able to muster. I toss him a coaster as his eyes scan the chalkboard menu behind me.
“Welcome to Dallas’. What can I get for you?”
The man shifts in his seat as he tucks his mid-length hair behind his ear and leans forward. He rests his forearms on the glazed wood, offering me a grin. “Hi, can I get a whiskey sour?”
“Sure.” I look down and grab a small glass from the rack. It doesn’t take me long to whip up my new customer’s drink. When I finish it off, I place it in front of him.
“Thank you.” He leans forward on his arm, attempting to yell over the music in the restaurant. “What’s your name?”
He sits back in his stool and picks up his glass, bringing it to his lips as he stares at me over the rim.
“I’m Sloan,” I yell back.
“Sloan.” He repeats my name, a dimple appearing on his cheek with how wide his smile is. “I like it.”
“Thanks?” I ask him with a smirk. It’s not that this guy doesn’t seem kind, but I can tell he’s being a bit forward, clearly interested in more than typical casual conversation. I don’t bother asking him for his name. I don’t need it or want it.
He laughs then leans forward again. This time he crosses his arms over the counter. “I was sitting over there with a few of my friends when I saw you.” He tilts his head in the direction of a table near the front of the restaurant. There’s a group of six people surrounding a pitcher of beer and three different plates of ribs.
This guy is full-on, hands-down flirting with me. His eyes move along my body before finding my face again. He leans back again and shrugs. He’s arrogant as fuck. I can tell in the way his back hits the back of the barstool, dripping with confidence. He picks up his drink without lifting his back from his chair and stretches out his arm. He lifts the glass to his mouth, finishing off the rest. “I figured I’d come over here and see if maybe you were interested.”
“Interested in what exactly?” I ask him loud enough so he can hear me. I’m not interested, not in the slightest. Not only is it because of the rules I’ve clearly laid out for myself, it’s also because I have absolutely no interest in the man sitting in front of me. He wears his arrogance like he wears his cologne—entirely too much all at once.
He leans forward, sliding his empty glass to my edge of the counter. “Anything really. Dinner and a movie out?” He shrugs, lowering his gaze. “Or in?”
“Sloan?” Vada calls my name as she quickly walks behind the bar. She passes by me from behind, walking over to the cooler to grab a handful of napkins and silverware. “Do you mind grabbing three light draft beers and taking them to table twenty-two?”
She doesn’t stop before she leaves the bar, disappearing back into the crowd. I turn back to the man in front of me. “I’m sorry. I have to go.” I nearly stumble on my words, silently thanking Vada for her interruption of a situation I didn’t know what to do with.
The man taps his fingers on the counter, inhaling a deep breath. He doesn’t say another word as he stands. He’s still wearing the same amount of arrogance as before, only this time he walks away a bit more deflated than when he sat down. He gives me a simple nod then heads back to rejoin his friends.
I shake my head and grab three beer glasses to start filling for Vada’s table.
From the corner of my eye, I find Dallas at the end of the bar for the first time tonight. I knew he was here, working the crowd and making his rounds interacting with his customers, but this is the closest I’ve been to him all night. There’s no one standing between us.
He’s talking to one of the customers down at the end, gripping the edge of the bar top, flexing his arm. It dawns on me that this is the first time I’m seeing him with a shirt on. Every other time he was either running or working on his motorcycle. It’s strange to see him like this. He’s wearing a black t-shirt, the sleeves stretched across his biceps. His hair is pushed up, the ends dipping slightly with every move he makes. They hover above his ice blue eyes as he glances around the room before his eyes stop on me. He stares at me for a few seconds before turning his attention back to the man in front of him. The way his eyes narrowed when he saw me was enough to keep me moving—anything to distract me from the thoughts swirling in my brain. I need to focus on work. I need to focus on getting these drinks out.
I walk halfway down the length of the bar and stop in front of the beer taps, filling the first one. I glance to my right, looking over at Dallas. Then I start to fill the other glass. I take another glance at Dallas. This time he’s moved farther down the bar to talk to another customer. He’s narrowed the space between us, but he’s still a considerable distance away.
He’s listening to the couple seated in front of him, scratching at his chin with the tips of his fingers. They graze across the light stubble along his chin, and then, as if I’m seeing it for the first time, he smiles. A real, genuine smile. Not too big, but enough to crease the corners of his cheeks and make his eyes spark under the golden lights of the bar.
He finishes his conversation and spins around, grabbing a basket of wings from the kitchen window. He carries it down the bar to the end and places it in front of a customer before grabbing a bottle of beer from the cooler. He reaches into his back pocket for his bottle opener, popping the top off before setting it on top of the bar.
“Um, you might want to wipe the drool dripping from your chin there.”
I snap my head to the left, catching Vada standing beside me.
“What are you talking about?” I turn my attention back to the beer glasses, and one is overflowing, foam spilling down the sides. “Shit.”
She laughs, reaching for the glass and dumping the entire contents down the sink. She hands me a new one. “I thought you said my brother is an asshole.”
“He is.” It’s true. I did tell Vada her brother is an asshole. After Dallas disappeared to the back of the restaurant after he found out I was his new employee, she asked if I could elaborate more on the details of our interactions since moving here. I called him an asshole because I feel like that’s all he’s been since I’ve met him.
“Well, you aren’t looking at him like you think he’s an asshole.” She smirks, grabbing the now full beers from me. I internally sigh with relief, thankful to have not spilled it again. She swiftly circles around me, and suddenly I’m feeling defensive. I can’t
explain it, but her words have sparked something inside me.
“I know what you’re thinking, Vada.”
She shrugs, raising one shoulder. She’s still inching her way out from the bar, carrying the beers as if she has more than two hands. “By the way, I won’t hold this against you.” She adds a smirk, her brown curls bouncing as she takes a step backward, lifting her arms just enough for me to know she’s talking about how long it took for me to make the beers.
“Thanks.” I laugh. “Wait a minute—you implied I have a thing for him, which I don’t,” I yell back. “Besides, you know I have my—”
“Rules.” She nods, finishing my sentence for me. “Right.” She doesn’t give me another chance to respond before she disappears into the crowd out in the dining room.
“What rules would those be?”
I straighten my back and swallow. I turn around to find Dallas standing within inches of me. He’s so close I can smell his cologne, a mixture of pine and cedar. It reminds me of the times I would go camping on the lake back in Minnesota. The scent sends chills over my body. It’s either that or how close Dallas is standing to me. My face is in line with his chest. I make sure to tip my chin up, staring directly at his face. He looks down, meeting my eyes with his. His expression is dark, his eyes clouding over as dark as the storm clouds that rolled in this afternoon. There’s a grey tint to them, dulling his usual piercing glare.
He crosses his arms over his chest and grins. It isn’t the same grin he was giving the guy at the end of the bar. This grin is more mischievous and more amused. “Huh.” He scratches at the stubble lining his jaw. “I think I’d like to hear more about these rules.”
I plant my hand on my hip and stare up at him, more confused than ever. This man is the poster model for confusion. “Now what makes you think I would tell you in the first place? Up until now, you haven’t exactly been open to sharing.”
“Maybe I’m not the man you think I am.”
I can’t help but snort. I’m thankful for the booming country music playing through the speakers above, but my snort is still loud enough for Dallas to notice.
“Somehow, I doubt that,” I tell him.
He crosses his arms again, waiting for me to crack. His muscles retract and his jaw ticks as he stares at me. Why does it always feel as if Dallas and I are in some staring contest?
“It’s nothing.” I sigh, not sure where this conversation is going. “Don’t worry about it.” We both need to work, and if I am going to make any kind of money tonight, it sure as hell won’t be done standing here talking to Dallas. There is no way in hell I am going to tell him the rules I set for myself when it comes to my dating life. I didn’t even want to tell Vada, but after our initial meeting yesterday and the comment I made to her about my rules, she coaxed them out of me. I didn’t go into too much detail, glossing over the fact that I caught my fiancé cheating on me with my best friend. Instead, I only told her he had cheated on me.
I step forward, trying to walk around Dallas’ large frame to get back to work. I still need to take the drinks to my table. He towers over me, the warmth from his body radiating into the empty space between us.
He reaches out with his arm, stopping me. His hand lands on the top part of my stomach below my breasts, and I would be lying if I said it didn’t send a tingling sensation straight to my core. I don’t want it to. I’ve sworn off all men since Cole, promising myself not to get too close to another man, both physically and emotionally. But as Liam told me before, it doesn’t mean I can’t still be attracted to them.
My heart is pumping against my chest to the same beat as the music up above. Dallas is making me feel things I swore I wouldn’t allow myself to feel for a long time. My heart rate speeds up and my thighs tense. I inhale a sharp breath.
I hate that Dallas effortlessly pulls this part of me out. I don’t want to react to him. I don’t want to be imagining the way it might feel if his fingers dragged down the rest of my stomach and slid between my thighs. Because men like Dallas always know exactly what they’re doing. Regardless, the small flutter in my stomach where his fingers are resting is hard to ignore, no matter how strict I am to sticking to my rules.
“I have to tell you…” Dallas says, clenching his jaw. He lets his hand fall away, and I hold my breath, waiting for him to finish what he’s about to say.
The bar is dark. Every inch of wall and ceiling is painted black, the golden lamps casting Dallas’ face in shadows. Although it’s dark and impossibly loud, I can still see the way his eyebrows dip and his lips press together. His mood has visibly shifted.
“If you take more than five minutes to deliver drinks again, I’m going to have to fire you.”
The storm that was brewing in his eyes before is now replaced with the familiar ice blue tone I’m used to. I’ve heard if darkness clouds one’s eyes, it usually means anger. With Dallas, it seems to be the opposite. The more irritated he is, the icier his eyes become. They’re two piercing shards, cool and distant.
I swallow down the lump forming in my throat. I don’t know if Dallas is being truthful in his words or not, but I need this job, and despite him being my boss, I still want to work here.
I tip my chin up and give him a small grin in understanding. “Of course.”
I leave Dallas where he’s standing and walk back over to the same two glasses I’ve been trying to make for the past five minutes. There’s a small pool of water in the bottom of each glass, and I pick them up, tossing the ice into the sink again.
Dammit.
I fix the two glasses and take them to my table as quickly as possible. Once I drop their drinks off, I take their order, put it in the computer, and then greet the next table.
By the time the dinner rush has passed, exhaustion slams into me. My shoulders ache and there’s pressure building behind my eyes. Dallas closes all the tables, leaving only half the bar open for the rest of the night. There are only a few people left sitting at the bar. A small group of people sit at one end, chatting while slowly sipping on their beers. On the other end, the same woman hasn’t moved from her spot for the past three hours. I also can’t help noticing that she hasn’t stopped watching Dallas for those whole three hours.
She rests her chin in her hand and tilts her head to the side, stirring her drink with her straw.
Dallas is near the back of the dining room, turning the last few chairs upside down and placing them on top of the small square tables. I tilt my head and study him. I’ve never seen an owner so involved in the running of their business before. Back at the lake resorts in Minnesota, I would never catch my boss out front cleaning the tables or serving drinks. I would either find them out front talking to the guests or back in the office pretending to sift through paperwork.
Dallas loads the last chair onto the table and makes his way toward the front end of the bar where I’m standing, waiting for the glasses to finish.
The woman at the end of the bar immediately perks up, sensing his movement, but he ignores her again, stopping on the other side of the bar from where I’m standing.
“What do you have left to do?” he asks me. There’s a softness to his voice, a stark difference from the tone he used when he spoke to me earlier. It’s confusing and my mind is too muddled to decipher which Dallas is the honest one. He brushes his fingers through his hair then leans forward, gripping the end of the counter.
I grab a handful of straws and organize them into the cup in front of him. He watches me. “I’m waiting for this last batch of glasses to finish, and then I was going to wipe down the counters.”
“Okay.” He nods, pushing off the bar. “You can leave when you finish up with those two things.”
“Are you sure?” I ask him, shrugging. “I don’t mind sticking around and helping out a bit more.”
He glances around and stares out the front windows for a few minutes, considering my offer. He rubs his chin then turns back to face me. “That’s up to you.”
I star
e into his eyes. Yellow flecks contrast with blue irises, and I try to read his expression. I still don’t know if he even likes me—not necessarily in a romantic way, like more in a basic, decent, courteous kind of way.
“Okay.” I croak out the word, the letters scratching at the back of my throat. I hadn’t realized how much I had been yelling all night with how incredibly loud it was when we were slammed earlier.
Dallas taps his fingers on the back of the barstool in front of him then backs away, disappearing into the kitchen. I follow him with my eyes, watching as he pushes through the double doors.
The dishwasher beeps, signaling it’s done. I start loading them into the cooler while Vada greets a guest down at the end of the bar that’s still open and serving guests. Once I’m done with the glasses, I grab a clean rag and begin wiping down the counter. The empty stage in the back catches my attention. It hasn’t been touched all night.
“It hasn’t been used in about a year.”
“Really?”
Vada stands beside me, her hands resting on her hips. Her eyes are glued to the stage like mine were. This is the first time I’ve seen her all night that she isn’t making a drink or carrying a basket of food in her hands. They’re empty, and I can tell she’s having a hard time standing here without a task in front of her.
“Yeah.” She sighs, wiping the same spot on the counter I did only seconds before. I was right—she can’t stay still. “Dallas used to play guitar and sing every chance he got. Before he opened this place, he would travel to different bars and clubs in the area, anywhere that was willing to hire him for a gig.”
“You’re kidding.” I’m shocked. I don’t take Dallas for the performing, artistic kind. There’s a shadow lingering over him, one he casts out on nearly everyone he encounters. It’s hard to imagine him up on stage, singing to a crowd, wooing them with poetic lyrics. Although, I am suddenly curious what his voice sounds like when he sings.
The Rules of Heartbreak: An Enemies-to-Lovers/Next-Door Neighbor Romance (The Heartbreak Series Book 1) Page 6