Six
THEO
Everything hurts. Working at Sidelines has me on my feet for hours a day, when I’m used to sitting behind a desk for countless hours, lost in software codes and the glow of a computer screen. My legs throb, my back aches, and my arms are like lead after carrying trays of drinks and food.
I never realized how different my body would feel, or how much I’d crave the simple comfort of a padded chair. Seeing things from a different perspective, I can now see how much I have been spoiled when it comes to my work.
Men and women flit around the bar with bright smiles on their faces, and no pain etched on their features or complaints coming from them, whereas I am ready to collapse into my bed and sleep for a week.
They enjoy working here but not only that, their bodies are used to the hard work.
The exhaustion is bone-deep, but so is the satisfaction that I am out here pushing my comfort zones, and people seem to like me. In my line of work, it is cutthroat, people wanting toundercut and sell out any secret they can to get the upper hand. For years, I have hardened myself to that but that is my mind, not my body.
Each night, as I drag myself home and collapse onto my mattress, I feel every ache and twinge, and it is the proof that I survived another shift, that I’m living a little more than I did behind a monitor.
Still, if someone offered to rub my shoulders right now, I think I’d melt into a puddle at their feet. A hot guy who will take care of me, kiss the pain away, and use his skilled fingers to massage the aches away.
Leaving the sweet comfort of the supply room, I head back to the bar, grabbing my tray, ready to do another round of glass collecting.
My spine stiffens, and I feel eyes on me. Watching my back is something I have taught myself to do, so when I feel that someone is watching me, I know that I have to check.
You would think that since I only own a gaming company, my life would not be in danger, but you would be wrong. A fellow gamer was kidnapped a few years ago, simply because he made it possible to kill a character in one of his games.
Looking over my shoulder, I see him.
A tall, hot man, looking at me from across the room.
Dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, he holds the pool cue in one hand, the other tucked into the front pocket of his jeans while he watches me.
I feel the heat from his stare, and it makes my body hum with want.
The man standing next to him gains his attention, and when I look, I see that he is talking to River. McHottie smiles at him and my stomach clenches.
Are they an item?
River winked at me— he said that he would like to show me around town— the way he looked at me like he was flirting with his eyes. Had I got it all wrong?
Shit, am I that out of the loop that I do not know if a man is flirting with me or just being friendly?
Sighing, I push down any sort of idea that either man would be interested in me and get on with my job. Smiling at customers, I speak to them when they bring up Patty or the reason I am in town.
The more time I spend with the people of Silverpine, the more I feel at home here. Everyone is nice and friendly.
Patty let me set up an office in the spare bedroom of her house so I can keep up to date with what is happening back home in the office, but if I am being honest, I am liking the time away from all of that loaded coding and glitches. Lately, I have felt that I am attached to my computer and not living life, but being here, my body has somehow uncoiled from the daily stress of the company.
The fresh scent of the surrounding mountains, the trees, and the Christmas feel of the town are like a soothing balm for anyone’s soul who is dredging through the quicksand that is life.
Collecting glasses and placing them on my tray, I feel like I am being watched again. Risking him catching me looking at him, I glance over my shoulder and find his eyes on me again.
Why is he looking at me?
I shudder when I see the corner of his mouth tilt up, then River sets a hand on his shoulder in an intimate way, a way that is obviously familiar to them.
My heart races, and my palms get sweaty at the thought that I am lusting over a man who is clearly in a relationship.
Frick on a stick.
The tray slips from my sweaty palms, crashing to the floor. Glasses shatter, spreading shards all across the floor, and liquid spills like lava rushing from a volcano.
