by Fox, Piper
Javier wasn’t a drummer, but he played an air version, complete with sound effects.
She hushed him. “I asked him to allow you to make your own decision who you want as a mate. It has never been the right of any other person to decide that. Mating is a serious act. A sacred vow is made. Mates in arranged marriages don’t always wind up loving the other. That love is fundamental. It is a glue that binds through life and death. When it’s missing, the pair is weak, compromised. I suspect that’s what happened with the Barron’s.”
His wolf whined. “Are you implying Barron’s wife went with a vampire? Willingly?”
Her eyes grew moist. “Vivi took pictures of Artemis at the club and her mother is in the background, sitting with this man. Your father recognized him and suspected he seduced her.”
“Wow.” There were pangs inside him, sorrow for the woman he ran away from earlier. “Does her family know this?”
“No. Do you want to know what your father said to me?” She removed his jacket and gave it back. He slipped it on.
“Well, duh, Mom.”
First, she ruffled his hair and then she kissed his cheek. “My jokester. He agreed.”
After a quick spin complete with hand movements, he said, “Thank you.”
After she fixed his tie, she took his hand and began to walk towards the main doors. “I was lucky. I was forced into a marriage I thought I didn’t want, but I was wrong. Your father has done everything for us, his family, and for his people. We are nothing like we were before. Under his father’s rule, personal pleasure took precedence over the good of the pack. Your father sought to change the way things were run. And he did.”
Growing up, he’d only heard bits and pieces of his parent’s life story.
They took their time going up the stone steps. “He courted me for one month before I gave in. It took another four weeks before he announced our betrothal, but I had already fallen for him the night he saved me from an attacker. That night he made my safety and well-being his priority.”
Javier found himself speechless. A part of family history he did not know.
Her fingers slid from his. “Your father will be making a toast to congratulate you in ten minutes. If I don’t see you, I’ll make your excuse.”
He watched as she walked away. By the entrance, she halted and turned. “I hope you find somebody. Someone you fall madly in love with. All we ask, if she isn’t from a pack, she should be strong enough to bear your children and keep our secrets.”
A guard came up to him. “The Alpha’s wife asked to give you this.” He handed Javier a key fob and pointed at the Alpha’s SUV. “She said to have fun at the bar where Oliver is. Good night, sir.”
Javier took the key and made his exit. To Hector’s Bar and Grill and the beginning of the rest of his life.
Presley
Halfway through Happy Hour, the bar ran out of mixed nuts. Presley hurried down to the Grill’s kitchen to get more. On her way back up, she passed Sammy’s office and noticed the door ajar. Holding the bag of snacks, she peeked in.
The guy seated at the desk isn’t Sammy. He’s busy watching something on a laptop set up beside a computer monitor. “Come in, Ms. Duran.”
Hesitating, she enters after he offers her a warm smile. The moment she passes the threshold, she inhales the smell of fresh grass and a breeze on a summer day.
Dark hair, brown eyes, he’s nice looking and appears calm, kind. He motions to one of two leather chairs placed before the desk. Those used to be in the spare office. She sits.
“Sammy is no longer employed at this business. I am temporarily taking over, at the request of my Uncle, Hector Cordova. It’s nice to meet you, Presley Duran. I’m Oliver Cordova.”
She immediately likes his soft voice. He’s educated, well dressed from the expensive V-neck sweater and glimpse of designer jeans she saw when she entered. “Hi.”
Her wolf began to run around, excited. Those smells. He’s a shifter. A werewolf.
With an intent gaze, Oliver turns the laptop around. The screen faces her and is split into four panels: the bar, the hostess stand, the kitchen, and this office. Security cameras. And the one in here had been frozen just before she manipulated Sammy.
She can feel her cheeks burn. Will he fire her? The bag of nuts shakes on her lap.
He notices and quickly comes around to join her in the other chair. “I didn’t mean to shock you, but I was interested in your response. I have been checking in here for the past week and I picked up on some odd vibes around Sammy. I hired a company to install security cameras one morning. He’s not a good man. If you want to press charges against him, please do.” He sat back, still studying her. For a second his eyes turned that telltale golden yellow color and he jumped to his feet.
To alleviate the urge to change, Oliver walked around the cleaned office three times. Back to normal, he leaned against the desk, his legs inches from her knees. “You know what I am. And I know what you are too. But you’re not from my pack. You smell of—” Oliver leaned in her directions and inhaled. “I can discern a sweet, subtle aroma, a little spicy, a little woody, with a touch of sea salt. Reminds me of California woods.”
She remained quiet. Her wolf prepared for action.
“It’s okay if you don’t answer. I’m just wondering what you did to Sammy there at the end. Why did he fall asleep? At least you were able to take back what he stole. I’ve also handed over all of the rental property records to a company. If you were cheated, I’ll see to it that you get reimbursed.
“There will be changes going into effect in the coming weeks. As you might have suspected, Hector is very ill. He is not expected to recover.” Oliver extended a hand to her. “It was nice meeting you. You’re a fascinating young woman.”
He waited a while but when he didn’t see Presley move, he placed his hand on the desk edge. “I will not repeat anything which happened here earlier this evening. Now I’ll let you get back to work. It’s my understanding tonight will be busy.”
She stood and went around the chair to avoid touching him. “Thank you, sir.”
“Ms. Duran,” he chided her, “my name is Oliver.”
Gripping the bag closer, she nodded and left.
* * *
By nine o’clock when first band took the stage, a 90s cover act, Hector’s Bar was jammed to capacity.
By eleven, everyone had been drinking for quite some time. At midnight, the songs performed by an 80s cover act don’t matter as much as what comprised a person’s glass or bottle. Busy bar. Loud music. Lots of dancing, laugher, and the occasional messy puker who couldn’t get through the line for the restroom in time. Stories have been shared, hook-ups made, and couples kissed.
Work behind the bar has been non-stop, but Presley was trained by the best. Now she’s accustomed to it all.
Paired with Noble, they’ve become the machine behind the bar’s success. Excellent at multitasking, they knew how to keep the orders flowing, customers happy, and supplies stocked. Noble changes an empty keg out for a new one to keep the good times in gear. Presley keys in each order into the Point-of-Sale system, keeping track of each item they sell. What’s popular. What’s not.
Drinks get mixed or created. Bottles opened. Shot glasses filled. Cash accepted. Credit cards get run. An occasional buyback drink given. Tips get deposited into mason jars positioned around the bartop.
Presley hums along to a Men at Work song and feels eyes on her ass as she grabs a whiskey bottle off the high shelf across from the bar. Another part of the job. Being ogled, stared at, commented on, and propositioned are nightly occurrences. The line drawn at touching. That’s when her held up fist signals to the closest bouncer to help remove an unruly patron.
“Hey, Pres.”
She turned to the speaker before refocusing. The open bottle in her hand gets dipped and releases its amber contents over the rocks in four glasses. All get placed on a tray. After her nod, Henry, a waiter, takes it and shoves off, hands h
eld high to avoid any accidents with inebriated customers. Presley didn’t acknowledge the guy until she had to. Wiping the counter in front of him, she asked, “What are you drinking?”
Timothy Fowler stared at her as his smile curled along the edges of his lips. Wavy blond hair, dark blue eyes, he’s some girl’s surfer dude wet dream. Not her type. He had been coming onto her for the last four years.
Waiting a beat then two, she beckoned at the guy next to her fan and took his order. In seconds she popped three beers open, handed them over and rung up the sale.
Fowler gazed at her in open admiration. There’s a reason Mr. C made his female employees wear tight white business shirts (top buttons undone) and black miniskirts. His eyes dipped down to her open buttons and he bit his bottom lip. Presley dashed a look heavenward before fulfilling two waitresses’ orders.
Minutes passed. A Human League song was given fair treatment on stage when she returned to Fowler. “Decided yet?” she asked.
He smirked and yelled his response a bit too loud. “Baby, I decided the first time I saw you, but you always turned me down.”
Sighing, she shrugged, her usual response. Why bother saying anything to his tired way of hitting on her? Anyway, dating customers was against their policy. Presley almost laughed at that. How many times had she walked in on employees and customers doing ‘various’ things in the restrooms, the manager’s office, outside the employee entrance, and even the freezer.
Knowing she’s busy, he finally said, “the usual.”
Depositing the bottle in front of him, she reached for the Hamilton when he grabbed her hand. Presley looked down at his fingers gripping hers and began a silent countdown.
“It’s my last night here, Pres. Can I meet you after closing time?” Even over the music, she heard the earnestness in his voice. For a second a part of her was sympathetic. Her wolf was not and emitted an interior growl.
Before she reached her limit at the number ten, he released her. “You’ve broken my heart, you know.”
There’s no way she’d ever get involved with any of these college guys. Why? Everyone knew types like them enjoyed showing up to watch their one-night stands. Trash talk. Brag. Lie. Presley wanted none of that.
One of Fowler’s buddies overshadowed her as she filled in the limes under the counter. Wiping her hands on the dish towel hanging from her apron, she regarded him quickly, clearly not in the mood for another speech.
From his scowl, he knew it too. He used to be a football star, a defensive lineman being courted by the NFL, until a knee injury sidelined him junior year. It ruined his career. Ever since then Chad Turner’s been a major douche. “We walk tomorrow. You can’t go out with Timmy one time? He’s got it bad for you.”
“How many?” she asked, reaching for five. That’s their group size tonight.
In response, he dipped his head while his stare never wavered. She’s not impressed. The two bouncers on this evening were bigger than him. Someone sat down beside where Fowler’s guard dog stood. “I’ll be with you in a sec,” she said to the new customer, wiping the bottles before she handed them over.
Turner slid over a crinkled twenty and took the beers. “The other girls here have gone out with us. Why are you such a bitch?”
Presley bit back an honest retort and settled for something that won’t start a brawl. “I’m in management training.” She waited a beat to prove her honesty before she settled her attention on the other customer.
A waiter signaled from the side of the bar and she hurried over. Six mixed drinks, great. Time sucks. Seven beers, some on tap, some bottled. Ninety minutes till closing. A Duran Duran medley made her smile, the beat infectious, while she worked.
The bar remained packed. Noble seemed to be busier than her. Most of the female customers hung out by him.
When done, she noticed Drink-less Dude. “Hi. Welcome. What can I get you?” For the first time since she started working here, Presley gazed upon someone worth breaking the rules for. Dark wavy hair her fingers wanted to spread out in. An inviting full bottom lip to suck on. The kind of blue eyes one easily got lost in and from his shoulders she caught framed under that tight black tee, there’s enough to keep a gal satisfied. And he wasn’t even looking at her. His focused on his phone.
Presley blinked a few times. What type of response was that? Even her wolf watched him. When was the last time she had sex? Months? More like years.
Focus, Presley. Sixty minutes till closing.
Ten more orders completed, and Drinkless Dude still riveted to his cell. Two more songs played before she returned back to dreamy guy. His phone turned over in front of him, he appeared fully focused on her. As she approaches, a smile breaks across his mouth like a new day on the horizon. Her head turned fuzzy. “Know what you want?” Her voice sounded slightly seductive on that last word. He noticed by the way the sides of his mouth curled up.
“I know what I’d like to have, but it’s probably not on the menu.” He regarded her appreciatively. “How about surprising me?”
Nodding, Pres slid her thighs together. God, he was freaking hot! That smile curled her toes and made her wolf want to howl. “What’s your favorite brew?”
“Belgium. Challenge accepted?” Good taste. Another smile, bigger, lasted longer.
Presley smirked. “Watch.”
She grabbed a snifter and poured the beer correctly into the round glass and brought it over. No waiters stood by the gate, so she waited and watched as he brought the drink to his mouth. Sipping, his tongue followed, licking his top lip. Her thoughts dipped past the gutter. “Good?”
Something dark glimmered in the look which washed over her. “Oak-Aged Vanilla World Wide Stout. A woman after my heart. Thank you.” He sipped more.
A bunch of girls moved onto newly vacant stools beside him, but his focus never shifted off her. Presley took their orders. Great, mixed drinks with funny names. Appletini, Lemon Drop, Bay Breeze, Cape Codder and Long Island iced tea. Those took her some time, first to remember and then to complete. After she settled every glass in front of their thrilled faces, Presley returned to gorgeous guy. His snifter was empty.
“Surprise me again.” She even liked his voice.
Presley laughed and grabbed Mr. Gorgeous his next beer, Hennepin.
“What’s your name?” he asked while she deposited a new coaster and new golden ale before him.
She wiped a section of the bar before answering. “Presley.”
He picked up the glass, sniffed, and stopped. “Your mom a fan of his?”
She shook her head.
“I like it. It suits you.” He took a long drag and placed a fifty beside his glass. “Ah, man, Hennepin. You are a beer goddess. When do you get off, Presley?”
How she wanted to say she already was simply by watching him, but kept that to herself. “Usually around four thirty. Gotta clean up after closing.”
Someone flagged her down by the gate. “Excuse me.”
Her heart raced. Would he show up then? She has never had anyone meet her when she got off shift. Where would they go? Her place wasn’t clean. Dirty laundry all over. His place? She didn’t even know him. The band performed their last song. A few minutes later their roadie came over for their orders.
A good twenty minutes passed and she could’t get over to speak to him again. By then she needed a bathroom break and signaled to Noble. He acknowledged her.
Inside the employee restroom, Presley fixed her hair, applied more cologne, deodorant and lipstick, and sucked on a breath mint before she placed her bag back inside her locker. She went around the corner and passed by the customer section of restrooms. Someone exits at the same time and smacked right into her side. Presley lost her balance and reached for the nearest wall.
“Hey, sorry.” Fowler seemed genuinely shocked and moved to help her stay upright.
She let him assist and stared into his bloodshot eyes. He’s actually very cute and seems shy. “Thanks. You okay?”
He smiled. “I am now.” His hand remained on hers and she didn’t move it.
Maybe his nasty friend had a point. Besides, what harm would a smack on his lips do? She’d never see him again. Stepping directly in front of him, he’s a few inches taller than her five feet nine. She clasped his cold hands in hers. “Hey, I want to thank you for being such a good customer. Graduating?” Her tone softened.
Fowler stared at her. From the way his eyes watered, she worried he would cry.
“Hold up! You should be happy. Not everyone graduates. Be proud.” She gave him her best grin.
“T-thanks.” He swallowed.
And in the moment, Presley saw his situation from his eyes, being the one with the unreciprocated crush. Seeing that person every weekend and not being able to get close. Just this once breaking her don’t get close to the customer rule would be fine. The hall was empty. Noble announced “Last Call.”
She cupped his jaw. “Congratulations, graduate.” And with that, she pressed her lips against his, imagining Mr. Gorgeous in his place.
Fowler made a sound much like a kitten. Presley smirked. His fingers shook as they shifted to her waist and pulled her up against him. The kiss tentative and she remained fully in charge.
Afraid he’ll get too into their smooch, she withdrew and wiped away any remains of lipstick from his face. “I’ve got to get back. Good luck.” She waved before walking away.
“I-I’m sorry about my friend calling you a bitch. Thank you. For that.” He touched his lips in disbelief and walked down the hall.
Presley went around a corner and spotted Mr. Gorgeous waiting for her. She hadn’t seen him. “That was the sweetest thing I’ve seen in a long time. I wonder when he’ll realize he’s sporting a boner.” That sweet voice wrapped around her like a comfy blanket. Somehow her legs had ceased cooperating and she was close enough for his warm breath to caress her lobe.
It was her turn to swallow and allow her pulse to normalize. Her wolf circled, pawing at the ground.