Thankfully, the dealer’s easy to spot. Skinny kid in a hoodie two sizes too big, hunched in a booth like the world’s already pressed him flat. And, shocker, there’s a girl on his arm.
Yeah. Literal arm candy.
Blonde, big tits, and a laugh built to reel him in.
She’s flirting, and not the discreet kind. Fingers crawling up his sleeve like she’s trying to climb inside him, lips brushing his ear with every fake laugh. The kid’s eating it up. His eyes are glassy, smile stupid, hands fidgeting like he doesn’t know where to park them.
I mean… who am I to ruin that for him, right?
I grab a stool at the bar, order a beer, and watch.
My beating won’t escape him, but a girl like that might.
“Teenagers, am I right?” someone says near my elbow.
Low voice. Smooth. Pretty.
I turn.
She’s leaning on the counter, wiping a glass with a rag. Dark hair twisted into a messy knot, sleeves rolled up, a faded band tee clinging to her curves. There’s a pale scar along her wrist and a couple of rings glinting on her fingers.
She quirks a brow when I don’t answer right away. “You here for the show, or just the cheap beer?”
Her nametag saysRhea.
Huh. Pretty sure the bartender was a guy last time.
“Why don’t you tell me, sweet pea?” I say finally, dragging my gaze to her face. It’s just as pretty as her voice. “Heard bartenders read people better than anyone.”
I flash my best practiced smile. As a teenager, I thought I had it figured out. Now I’m the devil himself. They could burn me alive, and I’d still make them believe it tickles.
Rhea’s lips twitch.
“Listen, I don’t mean to be rude...” She slides the glass across the counter, foam cresting shy of the rim. “But we don’t wanttrouble here. It’s hard to find a peaceful place in this town. I just want to get through the night, alright?”
Oh, is this theplease-leave-us-alonetalk?
Straight off the bat, huh.
“Come on, you make it sound like I’m trouble,” I say, lifting the beer to my lips. The foam clings to my upper lip. I let it linger for just a moment, make sure her eyes catch on it, then dart my tongue out to wipe it away. Slowly. Oh, ever so slowly.
Let the girl feast her eyes a bit.
Her rag stills against the glass.
A crimson blush creeps up her throat—fast, wide, blooming across her cheeks and ears and, hell, probably her tits under that bartender shirt.
Oh, she’s definitely new here. No local girl would get her panties in a twist that quick.
She clears her throat, snapping herself out of it. “Aren’t you?”
“Hm. Maybe,” I purr. “To girls like you, though? Only in the sheets.”
She sets the glass down hard enough that the rim cracks against the bar.
“Oh, shit.” Her eyes widen at the chipped edge. The blush deepens, like she’s been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “Sorry. That one’s on the house. I’ll grab you another.”
She whirls away before I can answer, vanishing toward the back sink. I watch the sway of her hips. The way she moves too quick, like she’s running from her own embarrassment.
