I wasangry about everything today. Everything, but also nothing.
There wasn't a singular source of my issues and that was also bothersome. I wanted to collect all these pebbles of fury and resentment, roll them into a big, craggy rock, and shove it out my front door. If I could push it away—or throw it at someone—I wouldn't have to lug this weight around anymore. I wouldn't have to be angry.
Instead of staying home and marinating in my mood like any normal person would, I filled my pockets with those pebbles and marched down to the Galley. The mermaid with her wheat and berries on the tavern's sign earned an apologetic frown from me on the way in. That poor girl deserved better.
I found the dining room and bar packed with customers, but my usual spot at the bar was open.Small miracles. Watching as Nate and Jed worked together pouring drinks, their backs to me, I slipped onto my stool with a contented sigh. Finding a new seat at the bar would've been the last straw in a day filled with last straws.
After sending a tray full of beverages off with a server, Jed made his way toward me. I didn't intend to stare at his bare forearms or the black shirtsleeves cuffed to his elbows or the way his belt buckle sat impossibly low on his waist, but I couldn't stop myself. Couldn't stop myself from noticing the heartbeat between my legs either.
Pointing at his watch, he asked, "What are you doing here at this hour? You don't come looking for attention until after the sun sets."
"That's the problem with the days getting longer. It fucks up my attention-seeking rhythms."
He stepped closer, folded his arms on the bar, leaned toward me. "What do you need, sweetheart? What can I get you?"
"I'd like to make a reservation with your dick," I said, edging closer. The freckles dotting his face caught my eye. I curled my hands around my biceps to keep from tapping my index finger to each one of them. "Later this evening, a seating for one."
Jed ducked his head, laughed. "No request required. You have a standing reservation."
"To think, I dressed, brushed my hair, and put on makeup," I mused, dragging a finger along the neck of my shirt. His tight-lipped gaze followed that finger and dipped to my breasts for a beat. He was still tight-lipped, but that gaze was hot enough to warm me all the way through. "Now, I find out I don't need to do any of it."
He ran his knuckles over the back of my hand. "Need to? No. Never. But you look good enough to eat, Bam."
"I might let you," I replied.
We stared at each other, the noises and people around us fading away. He closed his hand over my wrist. "Talk to me. What's going on with you?"
I glanced around him to watch Nate filling another tray of drinks. I shook my head. "You're busy."
"Shut the hell up and talk to me," he snapped.
"Think about that statement for a second, Jed. Just take a second with it and maybe you'll see why you're asking for the impossible."
Releasing my wrist, he stepped back, pointed a finger at me. "Your head is full of something." He reached for a glass and plucked a wine bottle from the chill chest. "Have you eaten? Never mind. I know the answer to that."
"I'd eat if there was something other than bananas at the house," I replied, grabbing hold of those pebbles again. "But Dad is back on his banana bullshit. This week, it's banana pancakes. It's the only thing he wants. The whole damn house smells like banana and I hate banana." I glanced at the wine he set in front of me. "What is this?"
He deposited a glass of water beside the wine. "It's the Sauvignon Blanc you like."
"I didn't ask for wine." I lifted the glass to my lips. "You're becoming rather presumptuous, Jedediah."
"Because bananas," he replied as he shifted toward the point of sale system. "Chicken Caesar salad, right? Extra croutons?"
I watched as he tapped the screen. "Yeah, sure," I agreed cautiously. "But since when do you know which wines I like and how I prefer my salad?"
Not looking up from the screen, he said, "I don't think I've ever seen you eat anything other than a chicken Caesar. It's the only thing you order here."
Raising the glass to my lips, I studied the way his shirt stretched across his broad shoulders and how it nipped in at his waist. Giving his jeans a thorough review was safer than articulating any of the thoughts in my head or my heart. It made better sense to objectify him than admit it mattered that he remembered the croutons.
Hell, I didn't know how I'd put that into words without sounding like a moron. "Thanks for remembering I like croutons."
Eyes narrowed and forehead wrinkled, Jed returned to my corner of the bar. "You have to stop with that face, Bam."
"Which face?"
"The one that's a cross between wanting to suck a dick and snatch a soul," he replied, his tone dark enough to bring goose bumps to my skin. "I can't get out of here for a couple of hours and there's no way in hell I'm letting you sit there and make that face at me until then. Fix it now or you can eat your salad at home with Butterscotch."
I propped an arm on the bar as I pointed at him. "First of all—"
