A Good Time

by Shannyn Schroeder

  “I don’t suppose—”

  “No.” She cut him off. She didn’t want him to finish the sentence because she would probably cave. He’d offer to take her somewhere to finish. She could see it in his eyes. The lustful pull in her belly urged her to accept, but for once she’d follow her brain. “I’ll call you when I find something more suitable.”

  “Sure?”

  Such a loaded question.

  She nodded, not trusting herself. While he got into his car, she locked up the house. Griffin was going to be the most difficult client she’d ever worked with, especially if she couldn’t learn to control her hormones.

  Indy fed off the distraction of working at the bar. Another waitress quit, so Indy picked up extra shifts. She also got two new real estate clients via referral.

  Griffin being the referral.

  He probably felt sorry for her because she worked in a bar wearing a skimpy outfit. He was the type of guy who would think a service job was beneath him.

  But his kisses hadn’t felt like pity. That had been attraction. Lust.

  She needed to find him a house. Once Griffin found a house, it wouldn’t matter what happened between them. By the time Griffin figured out what he wanted, Quinn and Ryan’s wedding would be over and her commission safely tucked away. Awkward social meetings would be rare.

  What am I doing? Am I trying to talk myself into sleeping with Griffin?

  She snorted. The thought was ridiculous, but someone had to be a rebound guy. It might as well be a sexy guy.

  End Zone was busy for a weeknight. Nick worked the bar. She’d thought it might be weird working with her ex-brother-in-law, but it wasn’t.

  “Hey, Indy. You got some regulars already looking for you.”

  “Yeah?” She looked over her shoulder. “Good. Maybe I’ll leave with a pocketful of money.”

  “They asked for the singing waitress.”

  She stopped fiddling with her small apron. “Huh?”

  “They came in and asked which section the singing waitress would be working.”

  “Oh, hell.” She vaguely remembered the guys. All too young to interest her, but they thought they were the best thing going.

  Nick looked at her expectantly.

  “Last weekend I served a table while that Carrie Underwood song ‘Last Name’ came on. I sang along, and they volunteered to take me home and not reveal their last names.” She finished tying her apron.

  “You want me to move them?”

  “Nah, I’ll be fine.” She filled her apron pockets with an order pad and some pens. She didn’t even recall what the guys looked like. She just remembered them calling her the singing waitress. They thought they were being funny.

  At her first table, she glanced at faces. Nothing popped. “Hi, I’m Indy and I’ll be your server tonight. Can I start you with some fresh drinks?”

  At the second table, she hit pay dirt. She recognized two of the guys. The other two were new. After her introduction, she took their order and spun to leave.

  “Indy?”

  Shit. Almost free. “Yes.”

  “You probably don’t remember me, but I was in here when you sang on Saturday.”

  She nodded, prompting him to go on.

  “I wondered if you’d sing a song for my friend here. It’s his birthday.”

  She applied her brightest friendly smile. “I’m not really a singer.”

  She loved to sing, but people always reminded her there was a time and a place. Singing in her house or car made her feel good. She hadn’t been on a stage to sing since karaoke night with Quinn. Normally, the attention felt great. That night, she’d been too upset to enjoy the cheers and applause.

  “You should be. Here’s fifty bucks. You choose the song.” He slapped a fifty on the table.

  Instinct had her reaching for it, but she stopped herself. She was a barmaid, not entertainment. “I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

  She tapped her foot at the bar while she waited for drinks. What harm could it do to sing one song? The fifty alone made it worth coming in to work tonight. After she gathered the drinks from the bar, she looked around for the boss. Nowhere in sight.

  Indy scanned her brain for a song that would be fun and not too serious. One she knew all of the words to.

  After delivering the drinks, she noted the fifty still sat at the edge of the table. She tucked it into her apron and went to the jukebox. She scrolled through to find a song. Country always came easiest for her. She decided on Kenny Chesney’s “No Shoes, No Shirt, No Problems.”

  The jukebox blared so loud, she didn’t think she could drown out Kenny with her own voice, so she didn’t bother. It ended up sounding like a duet. She sang at the table, knowing the other customers watched. Being the center of attention never bothered her.

  She put on her game face and performed. Fifty bucks for three and a half minutes was a good take. What she hadn’t counted on was the performance taking on a life of its own. By the end of the night, she’d sung four more songs. Two at ten bucks each, two at twenty each. She didn’t tell anyone they had to pay for a song, but she took the money they offered.

  The hours on her feet flew by. An extra hundred dollars in her pocket made time irrelevant. If she could keep this up, she’d make it to Acapulco in December after all. The thought added an extra spring in her step. Relaxing on a white sand beach would cure her quicker than a rebound romance.

  She cleared her tray of empty beer bottles and glasses and refilled for the next round for two of her tables. Back at her station, she stopped short when she saw Griffin sitting at a table by himself. He already had a beer. His sleeves were rolled to the elbow and his collar was open. He looked damn good. The five o’clock shadow had returned, giving him the ultimate bad-boy look. So delicious.

  His eyes locked on hers and he smiled. The predatory smile made her heart thump in her chest. She delivered the drinks on her tray before going to him.

  “Hi. How long have you been here?”

  “Long enough to watch you sing.”

  Her cheeks warmed with embarrassment. How did he manage to do this to her? She was a good singer and had nothing to be ashamed of. “Can I get you another beer?”

  He leaned forward bringing his elbows onto the table. “I love your voice. You should sing more often. It suits you more than selling beer.”

  “Thanks, I think. What can I get for you?”

  His eyes roamed the length of her body. “How about a song?”

  She laughed. He did not come into this bar to hear her sing. “Are you drunk?”

  He lifted a shoulder. “Not quite.”

  She looked closer at his face. He looked as tired as she felt. “Something wrong?”

  “Crappy day. I came here so I wouldn’t get drunk alone in my office.”

  Indy made a point of looking around. “You’re still drinking alone.”

  “I’m not alone. I’m with you.”

  “I’m working.” She stiffened at his sigh. “It might not seem like much to you, but this is my job.”

  “I know.” He lifted his body and pulled out his wallet. He put a fifty on the table. “I want to buy a song.”

  “Put your money away, Griffin.” The crowd had cleared and tables were emptying.

  “You took the other guy’s money and sang for him.”

  “If some idiot is going to give me money to sing a song, damn right I’ll take it.” She turned and wiped down the empty table behind Griffin’s.

  “So call me an idiot and sing to me.”

  She wiped the next table and hesitated, because singing for strangers, for an audience, was easy because of the anonymity. Griffin knew her, and attraction sizzled between them. She also knew he wouldn’t give up. “Fine. What do you want to hear?”

  “You choose.”

  She slid the fifty into her apron and went back to the jukebox. She scanned her choices, skipping anything slow and about love or sex. Carrie Underwood was a safe bet.


  Who didn’t like to hear about a woman getting even for her boyfriend cheating? As the opening notes of “Before He Cheats” sounded, Indy growled out Carrie’s words.

  Griffin eased into a half smile and finished his beer while she sang. His eyes locked on her face. Even when she moved and wiggled with the music. Regardless of his comments about her uniform, he stared into her eyes.

  That alone unnerved her. A man ogling her body she knew how to handle. With Griffin, it felt like more. In that moment, she knew they were never going to have a strictly professional relationship.

  Griffin was vaguely aware of the pool players who stopped their game to watch Indy. She was a performer. The words of the song didn’t matter. The one she sang now had no sexy innuendo to it. She sang about taking a baseball bat to a man’s car, but her voice got to him.

  And that mouth.

  He hadn’t been able to get her mouth out of his mind for days.

  She finished the song and turned to walk away. He caught up with her and asked, “When do you get off?”

  “Closing. About an hour.”

  “Can you leave early? Or do I have to sit here and wait?”

  “Wait for what?” She wiped down the next table in line and he followed.

  “For you.”

  Her long blond ponytail bobbed and swooshed with each swipe. The bartender kept a close watch on him. Griffin stared back, but the bartender didn’t budge.

  “The bartender’s throwing daggers this way. He your new boyfriend?” Griffin stepped back and tucked his hands in his pockets.

  “Nick, God no. He probably thinks you’re a creep hitting on me.”

  “I am.” Why wouldn’t she turn to look at him? He couldn’t read her unless he could see her eyes. Even while she sang an angry song, he saw the banked desire in her hazel eyes.

  She stopped midswipe, then continued saying, “I thought we agreed to be friends.”

  “That worked until you kissed me.”

  Indy slapped the rag against the table and spun. “I did not kiss you. You kissed me.”

  He smiled. “I know. I wanted you to look at me. I don’t enjoy talking to the back of your head.”

  She heaved a sigh of impatience, and the rise of her chest in the too-tight T-shirt distracted him momentarily. She cocked a hip and leaned against the table. “What do you want to talk about?”

  “I haven’t been able to get your lips out of my head.” He stepped closer, keeping his hands in his pockets. Lowering his head, he spoke close enough to feel her breath on his face. “I want to taste you.”

  She closed her eyes and swallowed. “We had an agreement.”

  “Name your price.”

  “What?” Her eyes flew open.

  He suddenly realized the remark sounded like he was propositioning a hooker. He stepped back to think clearly. “Your commission. I’ll write you a check right now. Then it won’t matter.”

  “Sorry, no deal. I work for my commission. I’ll get it when I find you a house.” She pushed off the table, intent on leaving.

  He stepped in her path. “Just a kiss.” One that would surely lead to the bedroom. He never misread those signals.

  “Not a good idea.” She walked around him. “I’ll call you tomorrow with ideas on houses.”

  “Leave with me now. I took a cab here and could use a ride home.”

  “I’m working.”

  “The bar is empty. How much more do you think you’re going to make tonight? I’ll cover it.”

  Anger flashed on her face. “Do you think you can buy whatever you want?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “I’m not for sale. Go home, Griffin.”

  Damn. He hadn’t meant for it to sound like that. “I’m not trying to buy you. I’m serious about the ride. I don’t have one.”

  “So call a cab.”

  “Are you always so stubborn?” He never had to work this hard to get a woman alone. Deep in his gut, he knew she’d be worth it.

  “No, that’s usually Quinn’s trait. I’m learning to appreciate it, though.”

  She walked to the bar, and the bartender handed her a glass. She gulped what looked like water quickly. The bartender spoke quietly and Indy shook her head.

  Bringing her glass, she returned to Griffin. “I’ll drive you home when my shift is over. I owe you for putting up with my dad and giving me a ride home. Sit at the bar and wait.”

  “Thank you.” He sat at the bar and asked for water. He wanted to clear his system of the buzz he had.

  “You know Indy?” the bartender asked.

  Griffin drank from the glass. “Yeah.”

  “Where did you meet?”

  “Her sister is marrying my friend.”

  He tilted his head. “I was married to her sister.”

  Griffin swallowed another drink of water. “You’re Quinn’s ex.” He kept the surprise out of his voice.

  “Yep, I’m Nick.” He extended his hand across the bar.

  “Griffin.” They shook briefly. “Isn’t it tough working with your ex-sister-in-law?”

  “Nah. Indy’s cool. She was pissed when me and Quinn split, but then again, she wasn’t happy when we were together either.” Nick shrugged and went back to washing glasses. His gaze continued to follow Indy’s movements. His look revealed more than friendly interest.

  But Griffin figured most men looked at her that way.

  Two glasses of water, one trip to the washroom, and twenty minutes later, Indy pulled her apron off.

  “We can go. Lisa will close for me, and it’s dead now.”

  “I’m in no hurry,” he lied. He wanted to get her alone. His blood rushed watching her coo and smile and flirt with every man who entered her path.

  He followed her out to her car. She pointed her remote and clicked the door unlocked. Griffin grabbed her waist and spun her. His mouth captured hers when it opened in shock.

  Indy yielded slightly as he savored her. Blood beat in his ears, and his hands gripped her hips.

  She eased away from him, eyes wide.

  “A mouth like yours should be illegal.” His fingers tightened their grip, intent on pulling her into him.

  Her breathing was uneven and her hazel eyes darkened. Her tongue darted out and ran along her upper lip.

  He couldn’t tell who moved first, but their bodies collided and mouths followed. Indy wasn’t pliant and yielding. She took as much from him as he did her.

  She pressed into him. His erection pressed against her, and her nipples protruded through thin cotton.

  Griffin kissed her neck, and she shivered.

  “How far do you live?” she asked in a whisper.

  “Hmm?”

  She shoved his head. “Where do you live?”

  “Close.” He attacked her neck again.

  “Then get in the car. Sex in public is one thing, but I have to work here tomorrow.”

  His brain clouded. Did she imply public sex was okay?

  She tore away from him quickly. “Get in.”

  He sat uncomfortably in the passenger seat, his pants tightening across his crotch. He gave her the address and basic directions.

  Her breathing slowed and regulated during the drive. He leaned over the console. He wasn’t about to lose momentum.

  Not now. Not this close.

  He stroked her inner thigh. She jerked the steering wheel, and the car swerved slightly.

  “Take it easy,” he whispered. The shorts were tight and he couldn’t slip his fingers under, so he brushed his hand over the top of the fabric and tongued her ear.

  Her breathing became ragged again. “We’re here. Parking?”

  “Around the corner. Underground garage.” He moved back to his own seat and fished out his parking pass. As Indy pulled up to the gate, a guard poked his head out.

  Griffin leaned across Indy. She pressed her back farther in her seat, but not so far that he couldn’t feel the rapid rise and fall of her chest.

  “Hey, Jim. My friend
gave me a ride. We’ll be parked in my spot.”

  “Sure, Mr. Walker, no problem.”

  Indy giggled and drove past the gate.

  “What?”

  She deepened her voice. “Sure, Mr. Walker.” Another giggle. “I was picturing whether he’d still be all businesslike and respectful if he saw your hand in my crotch.”

  “He would. It’s a discreet building.” He pointed to his parking slot.

  Indy cut the engine and removed the keys but didn’t open her door.

  “Having second thoughts?”

  “Yes. No. I need a minute.”

  He got out and walked around. Opening her door, he held out his hand. She accepted it and stepped out, but paused.

  “Look, obviously we have some major attraction going on here.”

  “I’ll say.” He leaned in to kiss her again, but her hand on his chest stopped him.

  “I don’t do this.”

  “Okay.” He leaned in again.

  Again with the slap to his chest.

  “I’m serious. I don’t want you to think that because we’re screwing means this is how I get clients.”

  So beautiful and smart, but she thought so little of herself. “The thought never crossed my mind.”

  “Okay.”

  “And I promise not to treat you any differently when we’re looking at houses. Strictly professional then. After hours, though . . .” This time he did make it all the way to her neck and tasted the salty skin. He pulled the band from her hair, and the blond mess tickled his face as it bounced down past her shoulders.

  “Who says there will be more than tonight?”

  Moving up her neck to her ear, he whispered, “Once won’t be enough for either of us.”

  She shivered a little and pulled his hips into her.

  He groaned and stepped back. “We need to go upstairs, or we’ll be doing this for an audience.”

  She rolled her lower lip into her mouth and wiggled her eyebrows. This woman would be the death of him.

  “Not this time.”

  They walked to the elevator holding hands. The moment the doors closed and he pressed the button for his floor, Indy pushed him against the rail with her body. She kissed the V of his open collar and unbuttoned the next button, following with her tongue. Her knee nudged its way between his legs, and she rubbed her body against him like a cat in heat.