As much as he wanted to hang by her side and chat, he had a job to do and a business to run.
He could flirt and work like he’d always done.
No woman other than his grandmother could come before the dollar to get him ahead in life.
He continued to work as she sat there and watched him, chatted a bit with him and others in the bar, then got up to go to the bathroom.
Her drink wasn’t empty yet. He wanted to refill it, but would hold off. Even if it was to give her water.
No way was he letting her out of his sight in that outfit.
Another pair of fitted jeans hugging her ass with a snug black T-shirt tucked in.
She was toned and had curves in all the right places.
She wasn’t sending come hit on me signals to those in the bar. Probably didn’t even have heels on her feet, but it’s not as if he could tell unless he left the bar to find her. Or leaned over to look at the ground when she returned.
He’d do neither of those things.
He wouldn’t appear desperate. No reason he had to. He’d never let a woman have the upper hand in his life.
When she returned, he moved toward her and pointed to her glass. “Another? Or something else?”
She looked at her watch. “I drove here and am not used to drinking more than one.”
“I can make it light or skip the vodka.”
“Make it really light,” she said. “Don’t want you to think I’m too much of a dud.”
He laughed. “It never crossed my mind.” This time he made her drink with half the alcohol. She put her card on the counter and he shook his head at her. “On the house.”
“Thanks.” She brought the drink to her mouth and took a sip. “Hits the spot.”
The way she was staring at his arms made him wonder what was going through her mind.
What spot was getting hit.
Jocelyn had always watched him back in high school. Looking back, he hadn’t recognized it for what it was. Maybe she hadn’t even meant to.
But she was doing it again and this time there was arousal behind it.
There was no way he’d insult her just to score a chance to leave together when his shift ended. She wasn’t that kind of woman and he wasn’t that kind of man anymore.
“Chance.”
He turned his head. His grandmother was coming behind the bar. “What’s up? I thought you were leaving soon.”
She was working the hostess stand even though he told her to leave. They were down a server so the hostess took those tables rather than the stand.
It was close to eight at this point. The dinner crowd would thin out in another hour and then the servers could take care of it if someone came in.
“Another hour,” his grandmother said. “I was going to grab something to eat quickly if you can watch the door.”
“Of course,” he said. “Take your time.”
“You’re a good boy,” his grandmother said, patting his hand.
What the hell was this? His grandmother had never said those words to him before. Unless she was being sarcastic and her tone didn’t give off that vibe.
