Getting Down to Business

by Allison B Hanson

  She jumped back and scowled at the guy, who just chuckled and attempted to joke it off.

  “Come on, I’ll leave a big tip.”

  His unintentional pun made the jackass on the next stool bust up.

  Maybe it was the liquid courage—though three beers over a four hour time frame didn’t seem likely—but Doug was on his feet heading to her rescue whether she wanted it or not.

  “Don’t touch the lady.”

  “Lady? She’s a hot bartender.”

  “Same rules apply to her that apply to your mother. Respect, dipshit, or leave.”

  It was at this point that Doug remembered he was alone, and there were two of them— both were bigger than he was. Together, they were a wall of angry muscle. Shit.

  “Where’s Mac?” Doug threw a look at his damsel who was not in distress, but safely on the other side of the bar. Mac, the owner of the bar, was large and Scottish. Despite the skirt—or kilt—he looked like he could kick some ass.

  “He took a deposit to the bank. He should be back in ten minutes.”

  “Ten minutes?” Doug said and looked up at the ceiling. It would have been nice to know that before he spouted off about respect. “Baseball bat?” He held out his hand expectantly.

  “Sorry. We’re not allowed to keep weapons behind the bar.”

  “A baseball bat isn’t a weapon,” he argued.

  “The lawyer said otherwise, unless we were heading to a baseball game.”

  “Great.” Doug let out a breath, ready to face whatever these idiots were going to hand out.

  “Not so mouthy now, huh?” one of them said.

  “I already said what I wanted to say. Don’t touch the lady unless she says it’s okay. Were you going to say okay?” He checked with Chanda, just in case he could still get out of it.

  “No. Definitely not.” That’s what he thought she would say. He squared his shoulders.

  “The lady doesn’t want you touching her.”

  “Then the lady might want to consider a different occupation.”

  “What does that have to do with anything? Are you implying that bartenders don’t deserve the same social protections given to everyone else? I mean, maybe—just maybe—I could see your point if this was a strip bar, but even then, there’s no touching the bartenders and dancers. So you see, you’re making an incorrect assumption about the job requirements.”

  “God. Make him shut up already,” the larger of the two said to the closer of the two—the one who pushed Doug. Hard.

  Despite being ready for it, he stumbled back two steps. His fists automatically came up. Years ago, he’d taken boxing, so maybe there was some fragment of memory that would kick in to help him in this situation.

  “Stop it,” Chanda said.

  “He started it.” The big guy pointed to Doug who wanted to point out that he hadn’t started it. That they had started it when the guy reached across the bar and touched her. But he was saving his strength.

  The smaller guy grabbed Doug’s shirt and pulled him closer. Doug moved to hit him in the stomach, but his swing was deflected and he was pushed up against the bar, the worn wood digging into his back.

  It was bad enough he was about to get his ass kicked, but what really bothered him was how horribly he was going to fail this woman. He’d intended to protect her honor, but now it was likely she would have to call 911 to save his life.

  Using his leg, he pulled the bar stool over. The heavy chair came slamming down on the bigger man’s foot, but also caught Doug’s shin, causing him to wince. At least he’d done something. The smaller guy had stepped away and Doug landed a shot to his jaw. The impact sent pain through his hand and up into his wrist. In his boxing days, he always wore gloves.

  The big guy didn’t wait his turn and stepped around his fallen friend to take a shot. But Doug backed out of the way, just as two police officers stepped into the bar.

  The skirmish dispersed pretty quickly at that point. Chanda stepped in to explain, the two assholes were ejected from the premises, and the cops gave Doug a nod of acceptance. He nodded back and set the stool back up.

  “You’re my hero,” Chanda said setting a drink down in front of him. “On me.” She held out a bag of ice. “For your hand.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Thank you.”

  He was halfway through his victory beer when Mac came back from the bank. Doug fought the urge to go tell him how careless he was leaving his employee there without some kind of weapon to defend herself. It was common knowledge drunk people often became hostile or rude.

  Instead of getting in another throw down, he took a sip of his beer and let it go. His act of bravery hadn’t gone unnoticed by the nearby women. They flirted and batted their eyes at him, but he didn’t have the energy to chase after them.

  He caught Chanda looking at him twice. She was probably considering a two-beer payment for his security skills, but he would take the attention as long as she provided it.

  They made a few jokes about the incident. By the end of the night, she had promised to name her firstborn Doug, regardless of the sex of the child. And she had declared the date National Doug Day.

  What she didn’t know was how every time she said his name he felt his chest tighten up. Maybe it was the stress from the earlier altercation.

  * * * *

  Chanda put the last load of glasses into the sanitizer and turned it on as Mac collected his tips. With a nod to the last remaining patron he said, “Do you want me to kick him out on his arse before I go?”

  “Nah. He’s harmless.” Chanda knew for a fact Doug wasn’t drunk. She’d served him only five beers all night, and he was now stirring the remaining ice from his soda. Besides, he’d come to her rescue.

  She hadn’t told Mac about the incident. No one filed a report, and she didn’t want him to think she couldn’t handle things. She liked this job. It gave her something to do when she wasn’t working her other job. It also gave her a steady paycheck—something sculpting and painting didn’t always offer.

  When Mac was gone, she wiped off the bar and went to stand in front of Doug.

  “Time for me to go, huh?” he said as if it was the last thing he wanted to do.

  “Soon. I have to wait until that’s done cycling. Do you want another soda?”

  “No, thank you.” He pushed the glass away.

  “I can’t help but notice you struck out tonight.” It had been almost painful to watch. His game wasn’t bad, but he came off too desperate.

  He grinned and she noticed how adorable he was when he smiled.

  “It’s quite common.”

  “Maybe you try too hard.”

  He made a show of looking down at his dress shirt and khakis.

  “I’ve got nothing else going on. Not many women are interested in a thirty-three-year-old man who’s broke because he wants to take care of his kid.” Maybe not, but money wasn’t everything. She’d take a nice, broke guy over a rich asshole any day of the week.

  “Why haven’t you ever hit on me?” she asked.

  “I only hit on pretty girls,” he said, letting his shoulders sag. She frowned and let out an irritated noise. So she wasn’t every man’s cup of tea. She looked a little scary with all the piercings and tattoos. But she had nice boobs and she was put together okay. Who the hell did he think he was?

  He looked up at her and his eyes went wide. Probably because she was now glaring at him.

  “Oh, God. No. That didn’t come out right,” he backtracked.

  She crossed her arms, pushing out her nice boobs that a certain someone must not have noticed.

  “How was it supposed to come out?”

  “I hit on pretty girls, because I might have a chance at a pretty girl. You’re in the beautiful woman category. I don’t hit on you because you are waaaay out of my le
ague and it’s a waste of time.”

  She stood up straighter, stunned by his compliment. She didn’t think he’d be able to talk himself out his earlier comment, but she could tell he was sincere. To keep from grinning like an idiot she bit her bottom lip, catching her lip ring between her teeth.

  Doug wasn’t a bad looking guy. He had an adorable smile and nice eyes. He wasn’t buff, but he was solid. She’d heard him refer to himself as chubby, but she didn’t agree. She knew he had a nice sense of humor—and he was obviously brave. Plus he’d just called her beautiful.

  “I thought maybe you weren’t into the Asian thing.” She shrugged.

  “That’s not it. I’m very into the Asian thing. I mean, not to the point of it being a fetish. Just the right amount of interest.” He let out a breath and rolled his eyes. “You see now why I haven’t hit on you?”

  “Well, it doesn’t seem like you have many options left. Maybe you should give it a try.”

  * * * *

  Doug stared at the woman for a moment, unsure what her game was. Or maybe he’d thought about her so much he was having delusions.

  “I don’t even know what I would say. Even when I fantasize about you, we don’t talk.” He closed his eyes when he realized what he’d just said.

  Her only response was a giggle. Great, she was amused. It could have been worse. She could have freaked out and called him a pervert. If she knew the kinds of things he’d fantasized about with her she might.

  He ran his hand through his hair and laughed.

  “Even if I had a chance in hell, it would be difficult to recover from telling you that.”

  “I’ll give you a restart.”

  “Yes. Because a restart will make a world of difference.”

  “Come on. I’m giving you a chance here. You already have hero status. For someone who professes to think I’m beautiful, you seem to be letting the opportunity slip away.”

  “Fantasy you is not so bossy.”

  “Get used to it.” She smiled and his heart sped up. He hated to break it to his heart that this was going nowhere. And his dick…Well, it never listened anyway, so he didn’t have to bother.

  “Okay. Here goes.” He twisted his neck to the side and rolled his shoulders. “Chanda…”

  She looked surprised.

  “You know my name?”

  “Of course, I know your name. I’ve been coming here for like two years. You bring me drinks. I like my fantasies to have names at least. It makes them more realistic.”

  She laughed and then waved her hand.

  “Sorry. Continue.”

  “Chanda,” he repeated and took a breath. “Watching you work captivates me.” At this point, he didn’t even care that he was embarrassing himself. He was a complete ass and this was more than likely going nowhere.

  “Oh?”

  “Are you completely creeped out yet?” He laughed it off, but knew it sounded bad.

  “Oddly, no. Go ahead.”

  “Wow. All right.” He folded his arms on the bar and leaned in closer even though no one else was there to hear him. “Even when I’m sitting at the table over there.” He pointed to the corner table. “I can pick out the sound of your laughter over all the other voices and sounds in the bar. It’s not that it’s loud, it’s just the best sound I’ve ever heard and I listen for it so I don’t miss it.”

  It was the most truthful thing he’d ever said to a potential date. But why not? He had nothing to lose. Except maybe having to avoid his favorite bar because his drinks would now contain spit. He went in for the kill.

  “And every time you smile, I find myself wondering what it would feel like to kiss you with that lip ring. Would it be cold? I mean, it’s metal. But then it’s in your skin and you’d be hot. At least 98.6 degrees, right? So the metal should conduct the heat from your lips—and now I sound like a science teacher.”

  While he was babbling, she’d stepped out from the bar and was on his side. Looking at her this closely, his throat worked to swallow.

  She was small. Short, but well proportioned. Except for her breasts which were bigger than expected for her stature. She always wore tight T-shirts. Mostly V-necks. She was obviously aware she had a nice rack. He wondered if they were real.

  She was smiling at him as she stepped closer.

  “Come see for yourself.” For a second, he worried he’d said something out loud regarding her boobs. It took a second for his brain to rewind back to what she could possibly be talking about.

  When he thought he’d figured it out, he repeated the process. Surely he’d missed something in the conversation. She couldn’t possibly be suggesting he kiss her to find out what the lip ring felt like.

  “I’m sorry. What?”

  “Kiss me, Doug. It was a nice line. Let’s see if you can bring it home.”

  At another time, with another woman, he might have taken a second or two to plan out his approach and technique. But with Chanda, he just acted. Primal need took over in an effort to claim her mouth before she retracted her offer. Which she would do as soon as she remembered who he was.

  His lips pressed against hers and his tongue reached out, needing hers. With a soft moan, she melted against him. Those firm but very real breasts pressed up against his chest. His arms wrapped around her tiny waist, and pulled her closer as he tilted his head to deepen the best kiss of his life.

  Better than any fantasy he’d ever conjured up, he met her stroke for stroke, not relenting at all.

  A horn blew outside, proving this was real. He would never add a horn to his fantasies. It was too distracting. Especially when it went off again.

  Stupid cab.

  Cab.

  Hell. He’d called a cab. The beeping was for him.

  Chanda pulled away, a surprised smile on her face.

  “Is that for you?”

  “No,” he lied. He’d find another one. Or walk. To Queens.

  “So what did you think?” She was waiting for his answer.

  “Think?” He hadn’t been thinking.

  “About the lip ring.”

  He glanced down at it, noticing her lips were pink and glossy from kissing him. He shook his head and laughed.

  “To be honest, I didn’t even feel it. I was busy feeling so many other things.”

  She bit her lip and he wanted to lean over and do the same thing. But he’d already gotten more than he ever expected possible.

  They stared at each other for a long moment. Just when he opened his mouth to say something—not that he knew what would come out—the chime on the machine behind the bar went off.

  “I’m free to go,” she announced.

  “I’ll walk you out,” he offered. He didn’t like the idea of her being alone. It was the reason he’d stayed so late. He waited while she grabbed her bag and locked up.

  Out on the street, he hailed her a cab. When it pulled over to the curb, he opened the door and smiled as she slid inside and moved to the far side.

  “You coming?” she asked, her head tilting to the side.

  “With you?” She wanted to share a cab? He didn’t think he’d be able to keep his hands off her in the small space.

  “Yeah.”

  “I live in Queens.”

  “That’s nice, but I was thinking you would come to my place.”

  “Oh.” His brain only took a fraction of a second to put it together, despite it being the most improbable calculation he’d ever encountered. “Oh! Yes,” he answered and got in the cab before she had the chance to change her mind.

  * * * *

  It was almost two in the morning and Grayson was exhausted, but happier than he knew possible. After the pizza, he and Liss had moved on to rounds two, three, and four.

  “Will you stay tonight?” he asked.

  “Do you mind?”
/>
  “I want you to stay,” he said honestly.

  “I want to stay too. Thanks.” She snuggled up against him.

  “What are you doing tomorrow?”

  She let out a big sigh, and for a moment he wasn’t sure if she was going to answer. Maybe she was going to bolt. He never knew with her.

  “I guess I’ll be working on my résumé so I can start sending it out.”

  “You’re changing jobs? You don’t like working at the same company as me?” he joked.

  “Actually, I need to find a job in Albany. I’m moving back in with my mother.” She let her head fall to the side in defeat.

  “Why?” Grayson propped himself up on his elbow so he could look at her. He didn’t want her moving away.

  “Because I’m ready to go back home.” This was a lie. She didn’t even try to convince him. “It’s just temporary,” she added.

  “Do you believe that?”

  She shook her head and pressed her lips together.

  “No. I’m going to get sucked back there and never be able to escape.” Tears threatened, causing her eyes to glisten and her lip to tremble. “I’m sorry. I’m not going to cry. I promise.”

  “Are you sure? It looks like you need to.” Gray winced and pulled her closer.

  “What good will it do?”

  “None, but it might make you feel better.”

  “Guys hate crying,” she said.

  “That we do, but sometimes it’s inevitable.” He stroked her hair and kissed her forehead. With her face against his chest, he wasn’t sure if she let herself cry or not, but it was nice just to hold her. “I have to say, I’m rather insulted.”

  “Why?”

  “I offered you a very nice room for a decent price and you’re turning it down to move to Albany. You might as well tell me I’m worse than Albany.”

  She laughed and looked up at him.

  “I like you, Gray. But I can’t move in with you. It wouldn’t be right. We want different things. Maybe we can meet up when I come to the city to visit.”

  “I don’t see that happening. Besides, I don’t know how I feel about hooking up with someone from Albany.” He shivered this time, making it more theatrical. As if Albany was a slum. It made her laugh. Mission accomplished.