“I’m sure you could,” he drawled, like he didn’t think so at all.
I clenched my teeth. “I can handle myself.”
He looked like he was fighting laughter. His eyes twinkled as they tracked up and down my body. “You didn’t look like you had him handled. Far from it.”
I folded my arms. “Well, I did and you didn’t have to rush in like some knight in shiny armor.”
“I’m far from a knight.” His voice was low, almost a purr, but it was laced with menace. “But I will not allow my staff to be touched by anyone.”
He arched a brow as if challenging me to defy him again. The last thing I wanted to do was argue with my boss, who was probably moments away from firing my ass. I retreated, a smile slashing my face. “If I need help, I’ll be sure to ask.”
His fingers grazed the edge of the bar. “Duly noted, now grab me a whiskey, will you, sweetheart?”
His arrogance grated on my nerves, but it was his words, spoken like an old-school sexist, chauvinist pig that really ruffled my feathers.
“I’m not your sweetheart,” I snapped.
Karson’s eyes narrowed, scorching a brand on my skull. This could be my first and last shift. I regretted the stance, but it was too late now.
“Okay, Karson, let’s not annoy Amy on her first night.” Shelley appeared from nowhere, sliding a whiskey in front of him. “It’s hard enough to get staff in this town.”
After what felt like an eternity, but was probably only seconds, he took the glass and strode with long lithe strides to his seat at the end of the bar.
I grabbed a dirty glass and thudded it down on a tray, muttering under my breath. “Ass.”
I risked peeking to the side; Karson was talking to a brunette. Ethan had his hand curled around a glass, his eyes on me, a wolfish grin on his face, as if he heard what I said. Maybe he read my lips?
I drew in a tight breath and turned my attention back to the patrons, where a woman was waiting. Her jet-black hair was pulled into a severe ponytail. She was dressed all in black—fitted black leather pants and a black tank top. She rested her elbows on the bar, and a thick silver bangle with a black stone caught the overhead bar lights and glimmered against her tanned, muscled arms. A wolf tattoo covered the entire top of her left arm. Her fingers were covered with an assortment of silver rings.
“What can I get you?”
Cool blue eyes met mine. “Scotch.”
I poured a full shot into a glass. “Ice?”
“No.”
I set the glass down in front of her.
“Thanks,” she murmured, placing seven dollars on the counter. I took the money and popped it in the till.
I watched with faint amusement as a short, black-haired, bearded guy slid himself in beside her.
“You’re not from around here, are you? I’m Kevin.” He smiled through pencil-thin lips.
Her eyes were sharp as a hunter’s blade as she said, “Fuck off.”
He cleared his throat, took a big sip of his beer, froth clinging like snow to his facial hair, and scurried away.
I stifled a chuckle. I noticed Karson making a beeline for her. She looked up as he neared. I slid a beer over the bar and held out the credit card machine for a guy to tap, trying not to look like I was listening.
“Dahlia, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”
I glanced up. Neither smiled. She muttered something in response, but I couldn’t hear it over the noise. His lips quirked in the corners, but there was no warmth on his face. None on hers, either. They spoke back and forth, glaring at each other. Was she an ex-girlfriend? If so, it was safe to assume the breakup wasn’t amicable.
A thirsty customer called out an order, and I was forced to move away. The night passed quickly. It was getting late and not many people remained, other than a few groups of rowdy, drunk young adults, and the odd older man with blood-veined eyes from hours of drinking. There were likely no wives to go home to, or perhaps ones they were avoiding. Thankfully, Shelley had stayed at the end of the bar where Ethan and Karson sat, makingmy avoidance of them easy. Clint was collecting final glasses, messing around, and laughing with the patrons he seemed to know well. I stood with Grace in the middle of the bar.
“What’s he doing?” I asked. Ethan was pointing to different girls scattered around the room. Grace picked up a glass that didn’t need wiping and wiped it anyway, peering up at him.
