“Now, where were we?” he asks, picking up my resume again. He goes back to staring at it, and my palms get clammy.
He’s looking at the gaps. Judging the time between jobs. Thinking I’m an unreliable fuck-up.
As the self-loathing thoughts get louder, I panic and blurt, “I know it looks like I jump around, never settling at one job long enough to figure out what the hell I’m doing, but I promise it’snot like that. My mom got sick, then she got better, but then the cancer came back, so I was her caregiver until she passed last month. I’m here now, and I want to stay here.”
His gaze softens as he puts my résumé flat on the bar. “I’m sorry for your loss, Natalie. Truthfully, I wasn’t thinkin’ that. I was thinkin’ how incredible your timing is.”
“My timing?”
He nods. “I lost a bartender, and then you show up lookin’ for a job. Plus, you’re stayin’ at Caraway Manor, so obviously you’re cool with…you know.”
I…don’t.
“The strange and unusual.”
Is he talking about Winston? Does he know him somehow? If I’m supposed to keep my dead roommate’s existence a secret from Lindsay, there’s no way I’m exposing him to Dominic aka Mr. Dreamy Drinkman aka my potential new boss.
Rather than answer him, I quote one of my all-time favorite movies. “Well, of course. I, myself, am strange and unusual.”
Dominic laughs, throwing his head back and exposing his thick, muscular neck. “Nicely done. I have a feelin’ you’ll fit right in.” Then his mood shifts to something serious. Darker. He interlaces his fingers in front of him, his mouth forming a flat line. “There’s one rule here that the staff follows, and really, everyone in town follows. I need you to promise me you’ll do the same if I hire you.”
“Of course.”
“We don’t judge anyone who walks through that door. We serve them drinks, feed them, listen to them, and protect them from causin’ harm to themselves or others. But no matter what they look like, where they came from, how they sound, or how they live their lives, wedo notjudge. This is a no-tolerance policy here at Fast Glass for judgement. Understand?”
Does Dominic think I’m racist? That I’ll refuse to serve a customer based on their skin color or who they love? I try not to take it personally. Maybe he’s had a few bad apples roll through here in the past.
“We serve. We don’t judge. Not a problem,” I vow. “Totally on board with that.”
His lips quirk up on both sides before revealing his supremely white teeth in a wide smile. They also appear to be slightly pointed at the ends, but maybe the lighting is to blame for this too. “Then welcome to the team.” He puts a menu in front of me. “Dinner’s on the house. Let me know what you want, and I’ll tell you about some of our more peculiar regulars.”
Chapter 8
Winston
Natalie doesn’t get home until dark. Luckily, the meal I made for her doesn’t spoil quickly. It’s not a grand feast. Just peanut butter and jelly spread on the multigrain bread Lindsay left here, with a handful of potato chips and sliced apples on the side, but after several hours of searching for a job, I imagine Natalie will be hungry.
It’s not as if I’ve been waiting around for her, wondering what she’d like to eat. I spent some time in the study reading and drawing in my sketchbook, then I went outside to trim the hedges along the driveway.
Since then…
Okay, fine.
I’ve been floating aimlessly through the house, debating whether to use the marinated steak tips in the freezer and make her kebabs on the grill out back with corn on the cob. It seemed like a good idea at first, but I haven’t seen Natalie eat much meat since she arrived. It’s possible she’s a vegetarian, and if that’s the case, the steak kebabs would be a waste.
She doesn’t cook much, which could explain the lack of meat in her diet. Natalie opts for the easiest, quickest mealsto prepare, and that typically consists of salads, crackers and cheese, or vegetables and hummus. Ultimately, peanut butter and jelly seemed like a safe choice, mostly because I’ve seen her make that before and I know she enjoys it.
Caring for her has quickly become a priority for me, and I’m puzzled as to why. Beyond her striking beauty, what is it about her that holds so much of my attention?
I hear her humming “Shake it Off” by Taylor Swift as she enters the house. The smell of strawberries hits my nose and calms me instantly. She’s removing her white sneakers as I come around the corner, and she suppresses a squeal at the sight of me.
“Oh hi,” she says with a bright smile. Flecks of gold sparkle amid the deep brown of her irises.
“You seem happy. Does that mean you’re employed?”
She nods eagerly as she hangs up her purse. “I’m officially a bartender at Fast Glass Tavern.” Natalie heads toward the kitchen, doing a triumphant dance as she goes. I follow on her heels, becoming entranced by the way her backside jiggles with each movement. She is soft all over, but this particular part of her deeply entices me, especially when the dimpled skin of her ass and thighs is visible through the fabric of her dress. My dick strains painfully against my pants at the sight.
Fuck.I need to put a stop to these thoughts, but the harder I try, the harder they are to ignore. Maybe resisting them is part of the problem. Natalie is soft and tempting, and there’s nothing I can do about it. I need to accept my attraction to her, and just…not act on it. I willnotlet my feelings be known.
