“About that conversation.” The dimple in his left cheek embeds itself deeply, and my chest squeezes tight. I used to live to kiss it, to stick my finger in it—heck, my tongue was no stranger to that beautiful divot. I hate the way the entire universe seems to be warping toward it at themoment.
“It’s not happening.” I also hate that I had to qualify my answer with words. God, speaking, let alone to Axel Collins is the last thing I want to do. All of my words, the best of me in general is strictly reserved for myfamily.
Brody steps up with his keys in one hand and his laptop in the other. “I’m taking off. It’s all yours,Ax.”
A quick burst of panic pumps through me. “What do you mean you’re taking off? It’s my first night. Low said you’d be here to walk me through it.” My voice hikes in that ridiculous way it’s prone to when I’m about to spiral into afit.
He winces as he glances to the door. Brody reminds me of everybody’s big brother. Handsome and rugged and an all-around nice guy that you secretly want to look after. “I’m sorry, Lex. I just had my ass handed to me by our accountant. It looks like I’ll be buried under a mountain of paperwork for the next few weeks. There’s no easy way out of this. I hate to do this to you because both you and I know what an asshole Ax can be.” He offers a playful wink at his longtime friend, and I’m suddenly enraged by their camaraderie. “But I’m sure Ax can give you a few quick and dirty tips to keep you afloat tonight. I’ll check in as often as I can.” He reaches over and smacks Axel over the arm. “Behave yourself. Lex here is a lady. I don’t care about your history. Don’t make her uncomfortable. We need her.” He nods my way before takingoff.
“Youdoneed me,” I hiss tersely at the ass standing before me—Brody’s terminology not mine. “Judging by the fact you’re functioning on a skeleton crew, I’ll be a treasured commodity by the end of the night. I’ve always understood my worth even when those around me did their best to disparage it.” I practically bite the air between us as I make a break for it, but Axel glides to the left, yet again dictating that I don’tmove.
His chest expands and deflates dramatically as if he ran a mile to get here. His eyes narrow to slits, but there’s not a hint of anger in them. He’s bedroom eyeing me, taking me in ways that I would never let him. I can practically see the pornographic scene play out in hiseyes.
“I would never disparage you. I treasure you.” He doesn’t break his gaze as if driving home the point with those steely beams. “Remember that night at the Witch’sCauldron?”
“The hot spring I scalded myself in? How can I forget? It melted the fingerprints right off myhands.”
He flexes a dry smile before the moment grows tense onceagain.
“Yes, I remember that night at the Witch’s Cauldron. It was the beginning of the end. It started off with me on top of the world and ended with the world sitting on my chest cutting off my air supply.” I burst past him with a violent thump to his shoulder as if we were two dumb jocks ready to come to blows. And I was dumb way back when for ever falling for anything he had tosay.
“Lexy”—he spins me back gently by the elbow—“not thatpart.”
There’s grief in his eyes that I was hoping would never leave him, and now that I’m witness to that tender ache myself, I’m practically walking on air. As a general rule of thumb, it’s every ex-girlfriend’s dream to see your ex still pining for you, embroiled in so much misery and pain they can hardly catch their breath. And right now, Axel Collins is a giant ball of heartache, and that alone fuels an unnatural level of glee inme.
“The other part.” He winces. “You and me, the moonlight. It started off as the best night of our lives.” He’s pleading, those eyes are downcast, and a sudden urge to bubble with laughter overcomes me, but I won’t give it in the event he mistakes it for a fond rehashing of that all-night make-out fest, which led to a proposal, which immediately thereafter led to an epic breakup. But hindsight is twenty-twenty, and I’ve long since taken off my rose-colored lust-tinted glasses. We were destined to crash and burn allalong.
I flick a finger in the air. “You, me, and moonlight? I don’t think I remember those details in particular. I’ve revisited the Witch’s Cauldron many times since and with an entire assortment of suitors. It’s all blending together.” I take a step in and latch onto those shining pale eyes. “You’re just another face in the crowd when I think of that place—so interchangeable. In fact, when I think of all the men who have graced my bed, I have a hard time remembering anything about you.” I tap my finger to my cheek as if struggling to summon a memory. “Oh, that’s right. Finished quick and then rolled over and played dead. On second thought, I do remember you.” The muscles in his jaw bounce as he grinds his teeth. You can practically see his blood pressure hit the ceiling, as his rage demands he speak out in self-defense, and yet I’ve rendered him speechless. What a crying shame. A wicked smile clips my lips as I stride right on by, and this time he doesn’t stopme.
I flatten my hands over my skirt, girding myself for the task at hand. An entire army of bodies just walked through the doors, and I do what I signed up for—I serve the masses. Hours zip by as if The Sloppy Pelican were caught in some space-time continuum that worked in my high-heeled favor. For the love of all things holy, each time I looked to the clock the hands were spinning. My feet feel as though they’ve both been flatten by a steamroller, my back feels as if the bartender took a baseball bat to it, and my head is pulsating with a heartbeat of its own, ready to explode all over thisminercatastrophe of arestaurant.
If I never look at another Mason jar again, it’ll be too soon. Try carrying a tray full of them brimming with water, iced tea, and don’t forget the fourteen kinds of lemonade Low made sure to instate. Sure, infusing the menu with sophisticated offerings was a great idea, but if I have one more person ask me what part of the cow is the Wagyu from, I’ll be roping humans in this establishment until they haul me off to a nice warm jail cell with a glorified ironing board for a cot. Solitary confinement for one, please. The muscles in my legs ache, my vagina aches, and both she and I know that was a load of testosterone-riddled bull I was feeding Axel earlier. Axel was the last man I slept with. That’s right. It’s been a long hard nuclear winter in my nether region. But it’s a secret I’ll drag to my grave right along with my unused pinkparts.
I stagger over to the bar as the patrons flood the exit. The last of my customers just took off. There’s just a drunk mumbling into his beer and a couple dry humping—oh heck, they could outright be doing the nasty. I think everyone in here is too tired to care. Mojo, the bartender, nods me over—yes, he assured me that was his formal moniker, and considering the fact he’s ratted and tatted head to toe, including his shiny bald head with a snake that dips into his forehead, I didn’t dare question him onit.
“You look like someone just wiped the floor with you.” He grunts out a laugh that sounds more like a threat, and instantly I likehim.
“That’s because I listened to someone who told me these heels would pay for themselves by the end of my shift if I knew how to move in them. They’re Louboutins for the record, which means my tips better amount to a cool grand or I’mquitting.”
“Was she right?” He nods to the bulge in my apron where I’ve been stuffing all the cash that was flung myway.
“I don’t know. I’m too tired to care at this point. What good is money when all I really want is a bed or the back seat of my car, whichever I hitfirst.”
He barks out a laugh. “Words I hear the ladies say often.” He flops a towel down onto the counter. “You mind manning the fort a moment? I gotta hit the head.” He nods to therestrooms.
“Hit as many heads as you like.” I snap the towel up as if that made me look official. Axel disappeared in the back about fifteen minutes ago—probably banging his own head against the wall for ever letting his so-called friends talk him into ponying up the funds for this place. Only two other waitresses are left on the floor with me, and they’ve started flipping chairs up on tables in an effort to start closing the place. If anyone thinks I’m going to start picking up seventy-pound wooden chairs and hoisting them through the air, they’re delusional. A bodybuilder I am not. And my heels are designed for a lot of things, but juggling furniture is not one of them. Although, I can’t help but admire the way the other girls are able to flip seats with the best of them and all the while carry on a conversation that contains the wordsBJanddiapers. I’m guessing one led to theother.
Drunk Frat Boy edges toward me, leering at me with a demented grin as he holds out his empty oversized mug. “More,” he grunts as he lunges forward, and his six-foot frame aptly topples overmine.
“Whoa, cowboy. This isn’t a rodeo, and I’m not a horse.” I do my best to push him off, but his hands gravitate toward my hindquarters and do their best impression of a starfish as he clamps onto myflesh.
“Get the heck off, you living, breathing idiot!” I howl in his ear, struggling to get his sweaty body off mine, but his grip on me increases with superhuman strength that only beer can provide as his lips latch onto mine. “I’m going to kill you!” I thunder so loud it sends Axel running from the back with a fire in his eyes like he might beat me to the punch. But before Axel ever clears the counter, my knee gives a violent jolt into Frat Boy’s baby maker and he lets out a lung expiringoof.
Axel plucks him from me and lands a few solid punches to his face, but he’s too wasted to properly defend himself and the entire scene looks sort ofsad.
Mojo bolts over and drags the drunk carcass to the door before the idiot comesto.
“I’m calling the cops!” Mojo shouts as he plucks the keys from the moaning puddle ofbeer.
