Bountiful

by Sarina Bowen

  Watching her was like rediscovering espresso after a month of weak airplane coffee. She’d turned my crank the first time I laid eyes on her. But making my move had taken awhile, because I kept coming in here with my teammates.

  Tonight I’d decided I wanted a taste. Badly. So I’d wised up and arrived here alone. It was the best way to get what I wanted.

  And I wanted.

  She and I had been watching each other all evening, even though we’d barely had a conversation. But I was a patient man. When the right moment came, I’d turn on the charm. I was willing to play the professional athlete card, too. Although something told me that swagger wouldn’t be the right play for Zara. She might be too forthright to care that I got paid millions to fly around the rink a hundred nights a year.

  It wasn’t a hardship to bide my time during her shift, drinking excellent beer. In fact, it was downright entertaining early on. First had come a rather amusing spat with her brother. Watching Zara go toe to toe with him had done things to me. When she’d squared her shoulders and lifted her perfect chin, I’d felt my body respond. There was a spark in her eye and a flush on her cheekbones. I wanted her to turn all that fire my way.

  But things seemed to go downhill for my girl as the night wore on. The door opened to admit a big, bearded man with a couple of his friends. There was nothing too interesting about him, except for the way Zara’s eyes widened when he came through the door. She’d looked away, as if embarrassed by something. Her body language changed after that, her spine lengthening even more. Her face tensed.

  I was good at two things in this life: shooting a six-ounce rubber puck into a net, and reading people. The second thing actually made the first one easier. The ability to read the opposing goalie well was what made me such a valuable sniper.

  My mind wasn’t on hockey, though. It was on Zara. And something about the bearded guy was bothering my favorite bartender. I could sense Zara’s disappointment. There was a story there, but I didn’t know what it was.

  After that, a perky little blonde came in, sat down at the bar, and ordered a salad. I overheard Zara and this cute little stranger discussing the men who’d come in beforehand. “Watch out for that crew,” Zara said. “The Shipley boys think they’re God’s gift.”

  The perky blonde didn’t seem to heed Zara’s advice. Not fifteen minutes later she relocated to a seat at the bearded guy’s booth.

  And then? The whole bar watched as the blonde left with the big bearded guy.

  Zara continued to serve the remaining customers with perfect efficiency and grace, but she didn’t look as fiery anymore. Instead, her dark eyes were downcast. And for the first time since I’d noticed Zara, her shoulders had an unhappy set to them.

  Still, she watched me. I felt her eyes on me, just as mine liked to dart over to check her out.

  Customers trickled out one by one as the hour grew late. The kitchen closed and the cook went home. Soon it was down to a table of college kids in the corner, myself at one end of the bar, and another dude at the opposite end.

  That other guy was a piece of work. He was older than Zara or myself. The gray in his hair made him in his late forties, if I had to guess. But he was lean and muscular. What made him stand out was his mean eyes.

  Zara didn’t like him, either. She was very polite, but she avoided eye contact.

  The dude didn’t appreciate that. The more distance she kept, the worse his leer. His eyes were practically stapled to her chest. “Zara, honey,” I heard him say as he fished out his wallet to settle up. “Griff Shipley ain’t the only man in the county. You’re feeling lonely, you can come keep me warm anytime.”

  That’s when she locked eyes with me for the first time in an hour. As if to say, Do you believe this bullshit?

  Grabbing his credit card off the bar, she gave him a tight smile. “If you’re cold you can turn up that electric blanket, Jimmy.”

  He snorted. “Your problem is that you’re too uptight. Maybe if you loosened up a little, Griff Shipley wouldn’a split on you.”

  “Is that so?” She slapped a receipt and a pen down in front of him, and that was that. The fool went home alone not two minutes later.

  She let out a sigh of relief when the door closed on him. “Last call,” she said to me as she wiped down the bar. “Can I get you anything else?”

  “Not unless you’ll let me buy you a drink. Seems like you might need to unwind after that last bit of bullshit.”

  She gave me a wry smile. “You’re sweet to ask. But I can’t accept. Company policy.”

  “Uh-huh.” I took out my wallet and put a fifty on the bar. “First of all, I’m not sweet.”

  Her eyes widened a little when I said that. Now I had her attention.

  “And secondly, company policy my ass. It’s you who calls the shots in this place. Nobody else but you. I can see why you need a handy excuse, though. If you couldn’t pull the ‘company policy’ out of your pocket sometimes, the men would be buying the sexy bartender drinks left and right all night long, I bet. You’d never get a moment’s peace.”

  A smile stole across her features. “Yeah, sure. I have to keep a stick back here behind the bar just to beat back all the men.”

  “You don’t need that stick, gorgeous, because you give ’em the evil eye and they run off, knowing they’re not man enough for you. But every guy who drinks in this bar has the secret, fervent wish that fortune would smile down on him just long enough for him to earn an hour of your undivided attention.”

  Zara rolled her dark eyes, but a telltale blush splashed her cheekbones. “You know how to lay it on thick.”

  “No need.” I shook my head. “Just telling you how it is. Now I think you should do a shot with me, and we’ll toast your unapproachability.”

  She laughed, and her eyes lit up for the first time tonight. “You are smooth, mister. I’m almost tempted.”

  “Almost? Damn.”

  She smiled. “There aren’t any taxis out here in the woods, and I’ve been pouring your beers all night. If you do a shot with me, it won’t be safe to drive away from here. And it’s quitting time.”

  “Well. Now that you mention it…” I reached across the bar and laid a hand very gently over her smooth one. Our gazes collided as I stroked my thumb across the back of her hand. “Driving after doing shots with you wouldn’t be such a great plan. I’d have to stick around for a couple hours until it wears off.”

  Zara waited a beat before retrieving her hand from beneath mine. “I see.”

  “Do you?” I put both elbows on the bar and leaned forward. She was trying to play it cool, but my not-so-subtle message was getting through. I saw the blush beginning to creep across those fine cheekbones. She and I had chemistry, damn it. We’d been eye-fucking each other all night. “Look. I think you had a stressful evening. And I’m really good at stress relief. Like, pro level.”

  She braced both hands on the bar and smiled at me. “Are you always this forward?”

  “Nope.” I shook my head. “Some women can’t handle the truth. But I’ve watched you run this place. You’re in charge of everything that happens inside these walls, and I’ll bet that gets old. I’m thinking you might like to hand over the reins once in a while. Let someone else take charge. Tonight that someone is gonna be me.”

  Time slowed down as our gazes locked again. Eddie Vedder sang “Black” over the sound system while she and I held a well-matched stare-down.

  I won it.

  She turned away and grabbed the rag on the bar, wiping invisible spills off the gleaming wood. “Awfully sure of yourself.”

  “It works for me,” I rumbled. “Complaints are few and far between.”

  The college kids in the corner picked that minute to push back their chairs. They waved to Zara and trailed out the door.

  Leaving me as the very last customer in the place.

  Turning her back on me, Zara left the bar to see to their table. She pocketed a tip and grabbed four beer bottles with one
sweep of her hand. Then she wiped the table down.

  I waited.

  She returned to the bar and ditched the empties in a bin.

  “You grow up around here?” I asked her as she turned her attention to closing out the cash register. I was perfectly capable of bland, nice-guy small talk if it put a woman at ease.

  “Look,” she said, her eyes on her work. “Let’s skip the twenty questions. How about you keep your trap shut for a couple of minutes so I can finish up here. If you’re good and quiet, I’ll take you upstairs with me.”

  That shut me up for a second. She’d beat me at my own game. But I wasn’t going to complain. “Upstairs, huh? Nice commute.”

  “It works for me. Especially in a moment like this. If I had to give you directions to somewhere else, I might decide you’re not worth the trouble.”

  “No you wouldn’t,” I said quietly. “You’ve been watching me, too.”

  Her dark eyes lifted briefly to acknowledge the truth in this statement. But she didn’t admit it out loud. “Do me a favor,” she said instead. “There’s a security camera in the corner over the juke box. Walk toward it slowly.”

  “Sure, gorgeous. I’ll do even better.” I took my wallet out of my back pocket and fished out my driver’s license. Then I walked toward the security camera, looking it in the eye, and held up my license.

  Zara was watching me when I turned around again. “Thank you. A girl has to be careful.”

  “I’ll bet.” I sat back down on the bar stool.

  “I’m Zara,” she said in a low voice.

  “I know. Learned that the second time I came in here. I’m Dave Beringer.”

  “Well, Dave.” She closed the register drawer. “Don’t move off that stool for a minute. I’m going to lock this in the safe, and then we’ll go.”

  “Take your time,” I said. “I’ve got all night long.”

  Her eyes flared as she turned away.

  Not a half-hour later, I knew I’d have her gripping the headboard of her bed as I took her hard from behind. And a minute or two after that I’d make her sob my name.

  Chapter Three

  Zara

  You are insane, I whispered to myself as I dropped the cash bag into the safe and locked it up.

  Taking strangers up to my room wasn’t something I ever did. Too risky. I didn’t even have a credit card receipt with this guy’s name on it. Dave always paid cash.

  But that wasn’t even the biggest problem with this plan. I knew in my gut that Dave wouldn’t have gotten that invitation to my bedroom if it weren’t for my Griff Shipley heartache. I was going to let my disappointment in one man guide me toward a bit of foolishness with another man.

  Smooth, sister. Really smart.

  Griff and I had been finished three months ago, and I’d told myself I was over it. But tonight was the first time I’d seen him with someone else. Audrey something-or-other. A cute little blonde, all smiles and curves. My polar opposite.

  Of course she was.

  If Griff were a different man, I wouldn’t be feeling so much rage. But he was a smart guy with a degree in chemistry, a zeal for farming, and a head for business. When he broke off our arrangement, he’d said he was too busy. But what I heard was, You’re not a good fit for a man who’s moving up in the world.

  Enter Audrey. When I’d taken the recycling outside, I’d caught them together. Bad timing. Griff had her leaning up against the side of the building, his mouth inches away from her adorable rosebud lips. But it was the expression on his face that had really killed me. It was so…warm. Like something in her eyes fed his soul.

  The excuse he’d given me played on repeat in my brain: I’m not in a place in my life where I can make time for a woman. But he had time for cute little Audrey from out of town. He’d never once looked at me the way he’d looked at her tonight.

  I’d felt such anger when I’d seen him so happy. I’d wanted to burn my whole life right to the ground. They were probably having fantastic sex right now while I closed down the bar for the millionth time in a row. Afterward, they would probably plan their wedding.

  Tonight made me so damn lonely I wanted to punch something. Since I couldn’t do that, I was going to settle for a few hours with Mr. Green Eyes. Dave. He wasn’t my type at all. Coppery hair and a clean-shaven face? I usually liked ’em scruffier. Dave was wearing casual clothes like everyone else in the bar, but somehow he gave off a rich-guy vibe. Maybe it was the luxury watch on his wrist. Maybe it was the small pack of friends he often turned up with—they dropped fifty and hundred dollar bills for their tabs and never drank cheap beer.

  I knew I should send him home alone. But I wasn’t going to. I wanted his eyes on me a little longer. And his hands, too. I wanted to feel the way I felt when his eyes traveled over my body.

  What did I need from a rich guy from Connecticut or New York? Nothing. Guys like that weren’t interested in the bartender except for easy sex. Which I was about to give him. In return I was getting a night of forgetfulness.

  He was pretty nice to look at, too.

  I took one last glance around the kitchen, making sure nothing was left out of place. I was stalling, I supposed. A one-night stand was nothing new to me—I’d been having them since high school. But taking a risk on a stranger wasn’t usually part of the bargain.

  Hopefully I’d be able to look myself in the eye in the morning. Because I wouldn’t be looking at Hot Ginger. He’d be long gone.

  When I reentered the bar area, he was waiting for me, chin in hand. “You okay? You can still kick me out, you know.” He gave me a friendly smile. “I’ll only take it a little bit personally.”

  That smile made me remember why I was doing this. Wowzers. I felt a little more alive every time he looked at me. That buzz in my chest wasn’t fear, but anticipation. The man had a seriously hard body that even a polo shirt couldn’t disguise. I hadn’t had a good frolic in months.

  I was due. And he was waiting.

  “Come on,” I said crankily. Grumpiness came naturally to me. And I’d be damned if I’d let the man see that I was uncomfortable. “Let’s go.”

  A minute later I had the bar locked up tight for the night. I put my key in the other door, the one leading to my upstairs apartment. After letting myself in, I pocketed the key and flipped the lights on over the narrow little staircase. He followed me, and it was odd having company in this cramped space. The first stair creaked as I stepped on it.

  This would be the awkward part. He and I both knew what would eventually happen upstairs. But first we had to get past the small talk. I’d offer him a drink. He’d say something kind about my tiny little apartment. I’d try to figure out who was going to make the first move…

  Suddenly, a warm hand reached out to curl around my forearm, stopping my progress up the stairs. Then another hand closed firmly around the length of my hair. It might have been terrifying except that warm lips softly kissed the skin at my neck. Goosebumps broke out all down my back.

  “Zara, sweetheart.”

  “I’m not sweet,” I said in an almost normal voice, though my heart thudded as his grip tightened on my hair.

  He laughed. “Touché. But keep your cute, grumpy ass right here for a second. There’s something I need to say.”

  “Then say it.”

  A low, growly noise of approval came from somewhere deep in his chest, and I barely managed to contain another shiver of excitement. “You are a feisty one. I like that. I’m going to show you a very good time now,” he whispered. “But if there’s anything I do you don’t like, just say ‘time out.’”

  “Okay,” I rasped, a little scared and a whole lot turned on.

  “Say it for me right now. For practice.” He kissed me again on the back of the neck, his tongue touching me so tenderly.

  “Time out,” I breathed.

  His hands dropped away and he stepped back. Only cool air kissed my neck now. “That’s all you have to do,” he whispered. “I’m not having fun
unless you’re having fun.”

  “O-kay,” I stammered.

  A big hand palmed my ass. “Now get up those stairs so I can get you out of these clothes.”

  Well. Small talk must be off the table, then.

  Trotting up the stairs and into my darkened one-room living space, I tiptoed over to a lamp beside the bed and switched it on. Two seconds later, he was right there beside me, giving me a nudge until my back hit the closet door. He cupped the side of my face and bent down to kiss my throat. The sound of his happy groan vibrated in my chest. “Fuck, you’re beautiful. Been wanting to taste your skin since the first time I stepped into that damn bar.”

  I wasn’t used to hearing compliments and didn’t entirely trust them. But his lips and tongue worshiped my sensitive neck, sending shivers down my body. His breath whispered across my skin as his hot mouth placed yet another kiss on my neck. He gave a gentle suck, and I melted back against the door.

  My life choices were starting to seem pretty damned smart. I reached up to cop my first feel of his sculpted pecs, and he chuckled against my skin. “Find something you like? Take my shirt off, beautiful. Do it now.”

  Eager to obey, I pushed the cotton fabric up his chest, my palms indulging in every bump and ripple while his smirking eyes watched my progress. The humor in his expression made this easier. His mix of bossiness and amusement put me at ease.

  Apparently I was taking too long, because he reached up and opened the button at the collar of his polo, then grabbed the back of his shirt and shucked it over his head. And, wow. He was built. Even his muscles had muscles.

  “You must spend a lot of time in the gym.”

  “You have no idea. Enough talking, beautiful.” Grasping both my hands, he put them on his warm chest. Then he leaned in and kissed my neck again. And damn. His eager lips and bossy tongue did wonderful things to my mood.

  He didn’t kiss my mouth, though. Maybe that was too intimate for a stranger. I hoped he wasn’t lying about being single. Because…