by H. Maloney
My eyebrows arch. “Uh-huh. I concede. You win. I think I’ll just stick to pouring beers.” Because yeah right.
“Tsk tsk,” he teases, shaking his head. “You put on that cape, you better be ready to be Superman.”
“I think my cape is at the cleaners after all.”
He laughs. “So, are you coming back next week or have I scared you away?”
“Oh, no. I am definitely coming back. Apparently, I’ve got some pent-up tension to work out, and beating the shit out of a plastic pad seems to help. Don’t want to snap and beat a customer.”
He nods in understanding. “As a frequent customer, I appreciate that. Your choke holds are solid. I’d prefer not to be in one if I happen to piss you off.” He rubs his neck with a pained expression. I like his teasing; he’s funny.
I nod solemnly. “So really, it’s for the betterment of mankind. Who am I to deny it?”
Dropping the gag, he says, “You really did well today. Don’t be afraid to correct Rob’s form next time.”
I smile, soaking up the compliment. “Noted.”
“Great. I’ll catch you later, Meg.” He walks away, throwing a smile over his shoulder at me.
This was a good move. I owe Allie a few bottles of wine.
I’m confident in saying I’m no longer just the girl who pours his beers.
Win.
CHAPTER 5
DECLAN
“Hey, man, you want one?” Wiley gestures to the beer in his hand as I join him at a table.
I shake my head in answer. “No, I’ve got a fight later.”
“Oh, shit, that’s right. Yeah, no fucking beer for you. You puke on my mats and you’ll be cleaning it up. So, you gonna kick Holloway’s ass, or are you gonna let that shit-talking pussy whip yours?”
“Is that guy still talking shit? He shouldn’t even be fighting me. I could just sit on him and crush him.” Got to give it to him for lobbying for this fight though. He’s brave. Or crazy. The guy is five-foot-nine tops and reminds me of that small, beady-eyed guy from Top Gear. I’ve got at least half a foot and thirty pounds on him. “What the fuck does he want from this fight, anyway?”
“Who knows? Maybe the money? I think it’s a Napoleon complex, personally. Just let him get his ass kicked, if that’s what he wants.” Wiley shrugs and leans back in his chair.
There’s no sport in that though. I fight to get my adrenaline fix, and that little shit’s not going to give it to me. I’ve seen him fight before; he doesn’t even have the benefit of being fast for his smaller stature. I let out a frustrated breath and lift my hand to flag someone down. I need to hydrate before I step into this shit show.
Looking around, I see I’ve caught Meg’s attention and I almost let loose a smile in predatory satisfaction. I love watching her blush for me. There is nothing sexier than knowing I affect her like that. I wonder what she’s thinking that causes the rush of blood. I hope it’s the same scenario I think about.
I run my eyes over her shape, fantasizing about the day I get to run my hands along every inch of her smooth skin. I want to watch the trail of goose bumps as I make my way down. I’m fucking desperate to know if she’ll blush all over.
My thoughts are interrupted by a low growl in the background. Shit. I know better than to do that while Wiley’s around. I clear the sudden lump from my throat and turn back around once I see Meg gesture she’ll be by in a minute.
“Fuck! What the hell, asshole?” I glare at Wiley. Fucker just smacked me upside the head!
“Keep your scheming eyes off Meg. Dick,” he demands.
“Scheming? I just need some fucking water. Jackass,” I state in falsely innocent outrage.
He crosses his arms across his chest and cocks an eyebrow at me. “Cut the Shirley Temple bullshit. You and I both know you’re full of shit. Leave. Her. Alone.”
All right. I imitate his body language, on the defense now. If we’re suddenly being honest… “Why?”
Wiley gestures at Meg with his chin. “That girl has been through more than you know, and I won’t have you jacking her around.”
“What exactly does that mean?” I growl, insulted. I’m not an asshole, and I don’t intend on jacking her around. I can understand she’s been through shit—who hasn’t? I’m not asking her to buy the cemetery plot next to mine; I just think we can spend some time together, have some fun. She’s beautiful, smart, and funny. What man doesn’t want a woman like that around?
“Not my business to tell you. She’ll share if and when she wants, but in the meantime—” Wiley leans forward in a hostile stance, finger pointed at my chest “—that girl is just as much family to me as you are, but I will not hesitate to put you in the fucking ground over her.”
I get it. She’s like a sister to him. But fuck if I let his fear for her feelings stop Meg and me from getting what we want anymore. And I fucking know she wants it.
I lean back in my chair, getting comfortable. Up until now, I’ve let Wiley warn me away, and I’ve let Meg’s obvious hesitation keep me away. I get that she’s been through something, but nothing is getting solved by me holding back. I think the timer’s finally up. “You know, I respect what you’re saying, Wiley.” And I do. It’s out of concern and it comes from a pure place, I can see that. “But I don’t think that’s going to be enough to stop me anymore.”
His face registers surprise for a minute before it morphs into anger. “You better not be saying what I fucking think you are.”
I nod, looking him directly in the eye. “You can’t protect her forever, Wiley,” I say carefully. “You know she wants me too. She can make decisions for herself. You just have to let her.” I haven’t wanted to fight over this in the past, but now I’m willing too if that’s what he needs, and I tell him that.
“Oh, God. Please, no fighting in here!” Meg begs as she catches the tail end of my statement to Wiley. I don’t break eye contact, waiting to see what his reaction is.
His glare never leaves my face as he tells Meg, “No, Meg. There won’t be fighting in here. Declan was just telling me he wants to fight Martinez soon.”
Well, shit. I hate that fucker, and Wiley knows it. I know these aren’t sanctioned bouts, but that asshole fights dirty. But if that’s what it takes… I lift my chin at Wiley in acceptance, understanding I’ve just been given reluctant permission, a warning, and a punishment all dished out in one sentence. He holds my stare a minute longer before looking away at the crowd. I turn to see Meg’s confused expression and feel the elation flow over me. Fucking finally.
“I think I’m missing something,” she says, glancing between me and Wiley.
I just shrug at her statement, letting a grin spread over my face. “Definitely. But don’t worry about it.” I watch as her eyes draw down to my lips, and it takes everything I have not to pull her to my lap right now. But I’ve just won a major victory with Wiley. Now I need to convince her.
***
MEG
Whoa. I have undoubtedly walked in on something here. Whatever it is, I think Declan won. Wiley looks like he’s about to shit a brick, and Declan looks like the proverbial cat who ate the canary.
“Uh, okay. What can I get you guys?” No sense in hanging around this tense atmosphere any longer than necessary.
Declan rubs his beard thoughtfully for a moment. “Yeah, Meg. Can you tell me what that tap is?” He’s pointing to the row of beer taps against the wall behind the bar.
I squint, attempting to follow the direction he’s pointing in. Fuck if I can see what he’s talking about. “I have no idea which one you mean, Declan.”
“Here.” He takes my hand in his, and I can feel my pulse begin to pound. All I can think is that he must really want this beer; Declan doesn’t normally touch me so overtly. In order to follow my hand and see the taps from my standing position at the table, I have to lean over him, and I am immediately overcome by the clean sandalwood scent radiating from his warm skin. I’m huffing him like he’s a goddamn Sharp
ie and I’m a junkie looking for a high. I close my eyes like the creep I am and enjoy my breast pressed against his hard chest.
“Meg?” His warm breath caresses my cheek. “Meg?”
I clear my throat, attempting to regulate my breathing again, but fuck is it hard. “Whi-Which one?” I stutter through, but manage to get it out.
I feel his smile more than see it. I can’t look. I won’t be responsible for my actions if I see his smile so close—and directed at me, no less. “The green and red one.”
I carefully extricate myself from my position across his body and swallow a couple of times to bring some saliva back into my recently dry mouth. I don’t even need to see which one he was pointing at, I know the one. “Tha—” I stop to clear my throat again. Smooth, Meg. Deep breath. Get a hold of yourself! “That’s the Don Jalapeño by No Label.” I chance a glance at him and see he’s staring at my throat as it works in overdrive. “It’s their spring seasonal beer. Really good, but only if you’re not afraid of pepper.”
Declan lifts his intense gaze to meet mine again, and I see that his pupils are dilated. He leans closer to me. “Good thing I like the heat,” he says, his voice low. “Save some for me after the fight. For now, can I get some water?”
Am I blinking too much? I think I’m blinking too much. What about swallowing? I know I’m swallowing too much. Did I get dropped into an alternate universe? Is someone going to say, “Thanks for all the cheese,” next? I don’t normally end up on the receiving end of a smoldering Declan... His testosterone must be through the roof before the fight. Right? Not that I’m complaining.
“Yeah. Okay.” I walk away quickly, still overwhelmed and caught off guard, ignoring the “Ow, fucker! That was my shin!” I hear Declan yell from behind me. First stop, the ladies’ room to change my panties, then to get his water. Someone else is going to have to bring it to him though; I only have one spare pair of panties with the emergency change of clothes I keep in my locker.
I did peek in on his fight against Holloway on my break, and was treated to his glistening body rolling around the floor… Sure, he was down there putting Holloway in an arm bar, but it was still very sexy.
Unfortunately, I didn’t get to give him that beer later; he disappeared into Wiley’s office after the fight and I didn’t see him before my shift was up. I was hoping to see if he was still in smolder mode.
Oh, well. Next time.
CHAPTER 6
MEG
“Order up, Meg. Can you get that to table eight?”
I’m at work the next fight night and it’s a crush in here. It usually is when there are fights scheduled and honestly, I’d probably avoid them if the money weren’t so good. Keeping my cool while weaving through tight groups of people and emphatic drunks with a tray full of open drinks guarantees I earn every freaking penny.
I hiss at Jordy, the bartender working with me tonight, in response to her question when I get close enough for her to hear. She just shrugs apologetically in answer and walks down the bar to take another order. It’s not her fault, I know, but damn! I just finished an obstacle course trying to get back to the bar.
I pick up the tray of beers and head to the back table. Thankfully, my ducking skills are on point or I would have eaten the cement when a customer threw an arm out to gesture across the room.
I earned a cookie for that. I’m definitely having one when I get home.
I arrive at the table with all drinks still upright on the tray, proud smile affixed to my face. When I see who’s sitting there, my proud smile turns to one of genuine pleasure.
“Hey, guys.” I’m met with a cheer from a couple of the guys sitting around the table.
“Beers are up!” yells Mark.
“Dude, who the fuck ordered the light beer? That shit tastes like horse piss,” Unknown Man Number One says with a disgusted look.
“I did, douche bag. I need to watch my girlish figure,” Aiden responds, hands positioned comically on his head and hip, earning a laugh and a couple catcalls. “Besides, it’s better than that mud crap you drink.”
“Mud? Did you just call careful undertones of coffee and malt ‘mud’?” He slams his palm on the table and calls out, “Blasphemy!”
Meanwhile, I just stand there with my eyebrows up during this exchange. Odd duckies. To avoid further displays, I just go ahead and set their beers down on the table.
“Dude, you scared the hot lady who’s carrying the sweet, sweet brew of life. Not cool,” Unknown Man Number Two says.
Wiley finally speaks up. “Brandon, this is Meg. She’s one of my best bartenders here.” He gestures with his hand. “Meg, this is Brandon. He’s an idiot.”
I laugh and lean forward to shake Brandon’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Brandon.”
He doesn’t let me immediately pull my hand away, instead brings it closer and turns it to place a kiss on my palm. My mouth drops open a little in shock. “Enchanté, Meg.”
Awkward laughter bubbles in my throat. Is this guy for real?
“Laying it on a little thick there, huh, Brandon?” Declan asks from across the table, taking a long pull from his beer.
“Thick? There’s no such thing. I aim to get this girl to notice me, and for that I have to work a little harder to stand out. But you wouldn’t know, since you have no game.”
Endeavour successful. I’m definitely noticing him and his dark chocolate eyes.
He turns back to me, ignoring Declan. “So, Meg, tell me. Do you enjoy your job?” He still has my hand, so running away doesn’t seem like an option; besides, this is interesting. Sure, guys have flirted with me before, but it always seems shallow and just in good fun—not that I’ve encouraged it in a real, yes-let’s-date scenario. I’ve only ever had eyes for Declan, but this guy is downright entertaining and cute to boot. His short blond hair has no organization to it, giving him a laid-back air, but his rocking body tells me he’s no slouch. Too bad I don’t have the same reaction for him that I do for Declan.
“I do. I like getting to meet new and interesting characters.” I grin at him, clearly conveying he’s one of said characters.
“Ah. And when are you free from this place to get to know a character better?” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively, and an honest-to-God giggle escapes.
“Asshole. She can’t date customers,” Declan says, getting annoyed.
Huh? I turn to him, confused, and he just stares steadily back at me, expression blank. Since when can I not date customers? “Just because I haven’t doesn’t mean I can’t.” I look to Wiley for confirmation and he nods, equally confused with Declan’s statement. With my free hand, I point to Wiley. “There, see? My boss says I can.” Is this why he hasn’t made a move on me? No. That can’t be it. That rule would be way too stupid to believe. Right?
A muscle starts ticking in his jaw. “Well then, you can’t date him. It wouldn’t work. You work in a bar for a motorcycle club, and he’s an engineer.”
I can feel the scowl take over my face even before he’s finished his statement. What the ever-loving fuck is that supposed to mean? Am I not good enough for him because he’s an almighty engineer and I’m a measly bartender for a dirty motorcycle club? Or maybe I’m not good enough just because Brandon is Declan’s friend. My insides sear with my rising rage, and I have to hold myself back. I’ve had enough of this bullshit. I yank my hands down to my sides and try to channel my anger into my stationary fists, small pleasure in Brandon’s outrageous flirting completely forgotten.
Declan’s eyes widen as he realizes what he just said, or more like what he just let slip out.
At my side, Brandon yells at Declan, “What the fuck, asshole?” Expressions around the table range from confused to angry to amused.
“Right. Well, I hope you enjoy your beers. I’m just going to take my inferior self back to the bar now.” With that, I dismiss them all and pivot on my heel back to the bar. I feel bad for being so rude to the others, but there was no way I could stay there a mi
nute longer. Does he really consider me inferior? And for which part? For working for a motorcycle club, the same one he’s friends with, or for being a lowly bartender, at the same bar he deigns to patron? I’m so upset by his words I can’t even maintain a single emotion. How can I have such strong feelings for a man who apparently doesn’t respect me? I bounce around among anger, hurt, and embarrassment. This emotional upheaval makes the remainder of my shift rather difficult, especially since I can’t punch the next asshole who gives me a sideways glance I don’t like.
When the fight starts a couple hours later and most of the crowd has moved into the back building, I seize the opportunity to get some fresh air in the courtyard and sit my tired ass down. After Declan’s bullshit, I haven’t been in the right frame of mind to deal with the crowd. I rest my head against the brick wall and close my eyes, trying to relax. Propping my feet on the opposite chair, I take a few deep breaths, trying to eradicate my foul mood.
When I hear the heavy metal door to the back building bang open, I ignore it. It’s not unusual; probably just another reveler looking to refresh his beer. My eyes remain closed until the hair starts to prickle at the back of my neck. Not a tremendously enjoyable feeling, all things considered. I pop my eyes open and see the last person I want around me taking the last few steps to stop in front of me. I immediately close them again, ignoring him.
Declan is either oblivious or just doesn’t care about my blatant dismissal, because the next thing I hear is the scrape of a metal chair against the concrete as he pulls it closer. I open my eyes to see what he’s up to and notice he’s positioned his chair to trap me between the wall, the table, and himself. I just sigh deeply in response. Clearly he’s got something to say.