by J. Saman
I forgot how gorgeous he is. Sexy. Large. Muscular. And terrifying because he is all of those things.
“You’re welcome. Helping you out is apparently what I do.” The bitter note in his sarcastic tone brings me back to the situation at hand.
“I, um…” I have nothing to say to that. He’s right. It was a bitch move, but in my defense, I had limited options.
“Watch and learn, okay? I’m hoping you’re a quick study and I’m not stuck here training you all night.” Okay. Wow. I’m starting to think that Millie girl was either lying or the only friendly one here. Then again, what do I really expect from him? “I saw you made his drink the correct way, so I guess that’s a good start.”
I don’t say anything back to that. His hostility is causing my stomach to twist and my palms to sweat.
He taps on the tablet at lightning speed, and I do my best to track his every movement.
“I take it you don’t have a pin yet?” I shake my head no and he blows out a breath of frustration. “You’ll have to use mine tonight. Just don’t screw up the drawer on my name. My pin is three-six-four-five. Should be easy enough to remember.”
Maybe I was wrong about the saving lost souls thing. Maybe he’s just the devil and I got lucky that night. I nod.
“You suddenly don’t talk a lot or am I too much of a dick right now for you to handle? Because if it’s the latter, you’re gonna have to get over it. This is Vegas and everyone here is a dick.”
“I don’t talk a lot and I have no problems handling a dick.” The moment the words pass my lips, I realize how they sounded. My face burns hot and I want to shrivel up into a ball.
Jake pauses, his finger poised over a number on the tablet’s screen. His lips twitch with an obvious smirk that makes a dimple sink into his cheek. He chuckles lightly, shakes his head and then goes back to the screen.
“This here is a price list for our drinks.” He points to a laminated sheet behind the tablet, his voice softening some. “It’s like a cheat sheet. It will help.” He taps a few more things into the tablet and when he’s done, he sets the credit card down in a small box next to the tablet and then turns to me. He looks me over once again, until he reaches my eyes and then he runs his hand through his hair. “I thought for sure you’d be gone by now,” he says softly, his tone and expression unreadable. Me too. “You ran out on me. I paid to have that piece-of-shit car of yours towed, and by the time I came back out to the truck, you were gone.” He blows out a breath. “Two weeks later and here you are.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, shifting my weight, my gaze finally descending to the black rubber floor. He paid to have my car towed. I can’t believe he did that for me—a complete stranger he picked up on the side of the road. “I’ll pay you back.”
He lets out a harsh, humorless laugh. “If I cared about the money, I wouldn’t have done it.” He leaves me with that, going back to the waiting patrons of the bar. I follow once again, but if I’m going to swim on my own, as Diamond said, I can’t be his shadow. Plus, I’m a little too uncomfortable at the moment to be near him. As I recall, I had a complete breakdown in his car and told him things I really wish I hadn’t, considering I now work with him.
Yet, oddly, I hate that he’s angry with me—if that’s even what this is.
“What can I get ya’ll?” I ask a couple of girls who are decked out to the nines, and then mentally chastise myself for the southern twang and slang. They give me their crazy martini orders and I do my best to make them without having to ask Jake or—God forbid—Diamond for help. Jake’s watching me. I feel him. Out of the corner of his eye, while he’s doing other things. He’s letting me swim, but making sure I don’t get into the deep end just yet. It’s a relief. It sets me at ease and as I chat with the girls all dressed up for a bachelorette party, I allow myself to pretend like I’m a normal girl, living in a normal world. I allow myself to have fun.
The girls already seem like they’re a bit drunk so I’m hoping they don’t notice any mistakes I make. I manage my way through the tablet, even though it takes me much longer than it took Jake, and then I move on to the next person, smiling as I go. It feels like I’ve got this. Maybe not fully, but it’s not as terrifying as I initially thought it would be.
That’s how the next twenty minutes go. Jake doesn’t speak to me, but he’s absolutely watching me. And when I glance in his direction, he offers an encouraging nod, but no smile. At the moment, I don’t care. His positive affirmation is all I need. He might be rough and short-tempered with me tonight, but I can accept that. It actually makes it easier on me. Allows me to keep my distance and not feel as obligated to him as I already do.
Whenever I have a free second, I find myself observing him. Or Diamond. They laugh with each other and I can’t help the pang of jealousy I feel. Not of them specifically, but of their level of comfort with each other. Of their easy friendship. I’ve never had that with anyone.
“Hey,” he says, catching me in the act, and I realize I’ve been standing here staring far longer than I should have been. “You okay? You need help with something?” The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to his elbows and I spot a hint of colorful ink peeking out against his muscular forearms.
I shake my head and take a step back as he approaches me. He tilts his head, studying my face, and I can only imagine what my expression says. I open my mouth to speak when someone interrupts me.
“I’ll have a Blanton’s single barrel on the rocks, please,” a man in his late twenties requests. Jake glances in his direction, narrows his eyes, before turning back to me and stepping away. The man has been watching me since he sat down a few minutes ago. I know because I caught him twice already. He didn’t even try to hide his interest. I tell myself that he’s leering because of the way I’m dressed. Because I’m the bartender for the section of the bar he’s in and he’s looking for a drink.
I tell myself he’s not here for me.
“You got it,” I say with a forced smile. There’s something about him and that look he refuses to bestow on anyone else. Spinning away, I find a glass to fill with ice. This particular Blanton’s is not all that accessible. I have to stand on a step-stool and then reach up. And when I do reach up, I can feel a hint of a breeze on the bottom of my ass cheek. I don’t waste time on trying to tug down the fabric, I just grab that bottle as quickly as I can and, in the process, nearly fall off the stool.
“Careful,” Jake warns as he grasps my arm, trying to catch me. But before I can even think about it, I tug my arm away, jolting back until I knock into the row of bottles behind. Mercifully, they don’t fall, but they do clank and sway. He throws his hands up in surrender, much the way he did that first night, startled by my reaction. “I wasn’t going to hurt you, Sunshine. I was just trying to help.”
My cheeks warm for what is easily the tenth time tonight. He makes me feel like the teenager I never was. “I’ve got it,” I promise with more conviction than I feel. Pushing past him, I grab the glass I had already filled with ice. Jake is just standing there, behind me. So close I feel his warmth, breathe in his scent. He hasn’t moved on to help anyone else, even though we’re fairly busy and there are customers waiting to place their order. I don’t glance over my shoulder to find him. I just pour the amber liquid into the glass, ignore the stench of it and the way it makes me feel, and slide it towards the smiling patron with the hungry eyes.
“Thank you,” he says, leaning across the bar with a fifty-dollar bill extended for me to take.
I snatch the money from his hand, avoiding eye contact with him, and ring up his order. As I return with his change, he shakes his head at me, his dark blond hair reflecting off the dim overhead lights. “It’s all for you, beautiful.” His charming smile probably gets him whatever he wants in life.
That’s one hell of a tip. “Thank you. That’s very nice of you.” I pocket the change and then move on to the person sitting next to him. But as he sips his expensive bourbon, that discerning gaze n
ever leaves me.
When I hand the lady next to him her wine, he asks, “What’s your name?” And now my heart is really starting to hammer.
This night is going from bad to worse. Right after my reaction to Jake’s hand on my skin, this guy asking my name might just throw me over the edge.
“My name?” I echo, trying to buy time.
“Yes,” the customer says, giving me that smile again. “I’m Brent.”
I open my mouth to respond when I feel a hand on the small of my back, making me jump forward.
“Excuse me,” Jake says to the man in a tone that is not to be questioned. “I need to speak to you for a moment,” he whispers in my ear. Spinning on his heel, he marches off.
I offer Brent what I hope is a placating grin and scurry off after Jake. He stops in the corner of the bar where the waiters line up to collect their drinks for their tables. Jake’s dark eyes follow me as I cautiously approach him, the thin, white fabric of his shirt strains against the muscles of his arms as he crosses them over his broad chest.
“He’s a shark,” is all Jake says like I should have some sort of idea as to what he’s referring to. “You need to be careful of men like that. I’ve observed the way he’s been watching you, so if you’re not into that, don’t give him your real name and don’t tell him anything personal about yourself.”
Don’t give him my real name? That almost has me laughing out loud. Jake doesn’t even know my real name. It’s most definitely not Mia. I blink up at him, a little stunned by his warning. And that scowl? For some reason, it has me holding back my grin. “Do I look that naïve to you?”
“Excuse me?”
“I asked if I look naïve to you?”
“No,” he growls as he runs a hand through his thick hair. He lets out a loud sigh and then shakes his head in agitation. “You don’t. You look sweet and innocent and men in this town will jump all over that.”
“And you believe that’s something I require your assistance with? Keeping men from jumping all over me?”
He bends down, bringing his eyes to the same level as mine. It takes every ounce of power not to flinch, or duck my head, or lower my gaze. “I’m saying you appear to require my assistance with a great many things. I’m saying he’s a shark for the same reason I didn’t want to leave you at the bus station in the middle of the night. All he’s after is a quick Vegas fuck. They all are, and I don’t want to see that happen with you.”
I swallow. Hard. My heart racing in my chest. I can barely breathe, that’s how close I am to the panic taking over. He’s so close. His whiskey eyes are right here in front of mine. Breathe, just breathe. I do, but in addition to the oxygen I so desperately need, I take in the cloying fragrance of his cologne and taste the mint of his toothpaste. “I appreciate the concern, Jake…” I trail off because my voice is barely audible. Just a whispered breath. That’s how quiet and weak it is. Clearing my throat of the lump that has formed, I try again. “I appreciate the concern, Jake, but I’ll be okay.” I force a smile. “And last I checked, it’s really none of your business.”
He leans in closer as I say his name, his beautiful eyes confiscating my senses. I lose the battle of wills and step back, my hands jutting out protectively. His eyes widen and his breath catches at my reaction, vacillating between my outstretched hands and my face like he doesn’t know which to focus on. Finally, he rights his body, giving me the space I need. “I want you to switch sections with me. I don’t like him talking to you.”
I narrow my eyes, trying to hold firm. “You really are a dangerous devil, aren’t you?”
A bark of a laugh passes his lips. “Last I checked, this dangerous devil saved you from the hell of a burning car. But you’re right, Sunshine. I’m no angel. I’m the guy who gets hit when he’s not looking. Switch sections with me. That’s not a request.” And with that, he walks off—no, storms off—back in the direction of the bar. I have no idea what to make of Jake. He unsettles me in so many ways I can hardly begin to categorize them in order of importance.
I decide to ignore him. Keep my distance. From him and that guy, Brent. I don’t want men talking to me. I don’t want them asking for my name or telling me what to do. And if I didn’t need this job and if it weren’t for Maddox who got it for me, I’d walk.
If my bravery existed in the form of action instead of silent words, I’d be done.
I suck in a deep breath, take another to clear my head, and then I go back to work. I smile at Brent, who readily smiles back, but I do not speak to him again. And not because Jake told me not to. No, my days of letting men tell me what to do are over.
Chapter Five
Reaching into my bag, I slide out my cell phone. In the two-plus weeks I’ve had it, I haven’t used it for anything other than Google searches and getting hired by Cal. I pull up my internet browser and type in my name. Articles about my family and publicity images instantly fill the page, but nothing new in the last two weeks. That has me breathing out a sigh of relief.
It’s like the world has no idea I disappeared.
I wonder how long Niklas will keep that up. Maybe he’s not looking for me. But I know he is, so I don’t understand why I continue to indulge that fantasy.
“Is that real?” a voice on my left asks with a mixture of curiosity and barely contained snark. I didn’t even hear anyone else enter the break room. Jesus. I jerk upright and over only to realize it’s Diamond. She brushes past me, opening up her locker and tugging out her purse. She fishes through it until she retrieves a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, before turning her I’m-going-to-chew-you-into-small-pieces-and-enjoy-a-smoke-after glare on me.
“I’m sorry?” I ask, unsure as to what she’s referring to. It can’t be my phone. This is a pay-as-you-go, disposable one. I mean, it’s a smartphone, yes, but surely, she’s seen those before.
“Your bag,” another voice says, and I turn to find one of the waitresses standing with her hip propped against the entrance of the door, her dark eyes flashing down to the designer purse dangling from my wrist. “Is it real?”
“Oh.” I eye my purse, taking it in for a moment. It is real. And in truth, it never occurred to me to swap it out for something less conspicuous. Not that I have any of those anyway. I have no idea how to answer that question. Do I lie? They’re not looking at me with contempt, more general curiosity, so I go with the truth. “Yes. It is.”
“Wow.” The waitress clucks her tongue. “It’s nice. How much that set you back?”
I shrug, glancing around surreptitiously before returning my attention to them. The waitress is smiling, but Diamond is most definitely not. I don’t think she likes me very much. All night long, whenever I caught her eye, she was glowering at me like I killed her cat and made a bonfire with its remains. “It was a gift.”
The waitress’s eyes widen, but Diamond steps in front of me, crossing her tattooed arms over her chest. Yeah. She hates my guts. “Jake get you that?”
“Pardon?”
“Shut up, Diamond,” the waitress snaps at her friend. “Just because he was keeping a close eye on her doesn’t mean they’re together, right?” she extenuates, turning her attention back on me. “I mean, he’s training you, not fucking you.”
Before I can respond, Jake—of all freaking people—passes the waitress with an, “Excuse me”. I can feel my cheeks redden and all eyes on me. Silent, evil, expletives slay my skin as he inadvertently shields me from high-school-quality girlish hatred.
“Here, Mia,” he says, handing me a laminated book. “It has everything you’ll need to learn about working here. What food we have on the menu, what wines and cocktails we serve, even how to navigate our computer system.”
I hear the waitress snicker behind him, but I don’t dare acknowledge her, and now Diamond is sneering at me. I ignore her as well, because I can play ugly every now and then, too.
“God, Jake,” I whisper, shaking my head ever so slightly. A bubble of laughter chokes its way out of me, a
bewildered smile spreading across my face. Our eyes lock and the warmth in his has my breath stuttering in my chest and that laugh dying on my lips. “Who are you?” I don’t think mercurial hero quite covers him.
He laughs, opening his mouth to speak when Diamond cuts him off as she stalks in closer. “Jake,” she purrs, running a blood red nail along his arm. “Are you gonna hang out for a drink after our shift tonight?”
Jake blinks, his head swiveling over in her direction. Mine does the same, but more out of curiosity than anything else. “Oh, hey Diamond. I didn’t see you there.”
She lets out an indignant huff, but her anger dissipates quickly. She leans forward, revealing more of her cleavage as she does. “I was hoping we could catch up tonight. It’s been a while since we have.”
“Uh.” He peers around the small room as if searching for an escape only to come up empty. “Can’t tonight. I have to be up early tomorrow.” Jake turns back to me, a wry smile bouncing at his lips. “I’ll catch you later, Mia.”
“Right. Thanks for the book.” I hold it up and he nods, exiting the breakroom as quickly as he came. The waitress follows after him, a knowing smile on her lips.
What was that? I’ve been doing pretty well all night. I mean, yeah, I screwed up a couple of the signature cocktails, got the proportions wrong on some others. So maybe he’s trying to help me? But it didn’t really feel like that was all that was. It felt like a dare wrapped in an olive branch. Is Jake flirting with me or have I reached the point where I can no longer determine what’s genuine? Niklas used to flirt. Relentlessly, in fact. It was one of the things that initially drew me to him. I was so emotionally starved. Desperate for anything positive, anything remotely resembling affection or, God forbid, love.
Niklas gave me that.
But this sort of flirting? It’s above my pedigree, that’s for sure.