9
Casual
Alaric
Iwatched as Gwen’s taillights disappeared, frowning after her. Shaking my head, I trekked out to my truck and climbed into the cab, trying not to think about the fantasy of driving straight to her place for another night of intense sex.
To my disappointment, Gwen hadn’t mentioned drinks again, as she had the weekend before—at least, not to me. I knew she was still planning on going—I heard her making plans with someone else when I walked in.
The wave of jealousy that hit just about knocked me on my feet, and when it became abundantly clear that she wasn’t going to extend the invite to me, that wave of jealousy became a tsunami.
I told myself it was better this way, anyway. My attraction to her was a palpable thing, a dangerous, discernible thing. When she’d passed me in the empty office to lock the shop door, her perfume had consumed my senses. It took everything I had to not push her up against the door and pull her sensual dress up over her hips.
And that was bad—real bad. I wasn’t even past the probation period, and my new boss would probably annihilate me if he caught me anywhere near his daughter.
I’d only known Russell Williams for a short while, but he was an imposing force of nature. Unforgiving, demanding, and he expected a lot of his employees. He was a hard ass to work for, but I understood him. I related to him.
But I wouldn’t earn any favours from him if I crossed that boundary, and I needed this job.
Driving home, the tail end of Gwen’s conversation still kept circling around in my mind. I wondered who she was meeting at the Watering Hole. Turning onto my road, I pulled up the driveway.
Tig shuffled over from the mudroom, his tail wagging in greeting. I stroked his big head and let him outside, standing on the back deck while he relieved himself.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that Tig was still searching for Sawyer. Poor thing missed the kid as much as I did. Eventually, he’d get into the routine.
I whistled, and he came back up the porch steps and walked over to the dog bed we had bought him over the weekend. Sawyer insisted he needed a few things to be more comfortable, so we took him to the pet store and picked out some toys and a dog bed for him. The kid had me wrapped around her little finger, and I dropped close to four hundred dollars on the dog by the time we left the pet store.
Tig flopped down on his pillow, chewing a water buffalo horn. It had been one of the many purchases we’d made, and he loved it. The dog acted like he’d never been given a bone before, and he wasn’t the least bit aggressive about it. He was riveted by it, and several times over the past week, he would bring it up to me to show me, like he couldn’t believe it was his or like he wanted to share with me.
I bent forward, rubbing behind his ear, and his tail thumped against the floor in response.
After showering, I got dressed quickly and headed back downstairs to feed the dog and myself. I grilled up some chicken and potatoes on the barbeque, skipping the vegetables. It was safe to say, I ate like shit when Sawyer wasn’t around, but I couldn’t be bothered to put much more of an effort into it.
I ate standing at the counter, fighting the urge I had to take a drive to the Watering Hole more and more with every minute that ticked by. Finishing my meal, I set my plate down with a heavy sigh that made the big dog lift his head and shoot a questioning stare at me.
“This is probably a bad idea,” I murmured, glancing at the clock on the microwave. It was nine o’clock—and Gwen was probably sitting at the bar, waiting for…well, whoever had taken my place.
Tig huffed and laid back down, offering no help to my internal moral dilemma.
I should go to the shed and work on a project, something to distract myself from making another poor decision, but I couldn’t suppress the desire I felt for her. It grew every time I saw her.
Each time I spent any length of time alone with her, for those brief moments, I forgot why it was such a terrible idea. I almost took what I wanted from her, knowing she’d give it to me—her want was as palpable as mine. It was a manifestation that I was struggling to hide.
Unable to shake her flirty gaze from my head, I grabbed my keys and shoved my phone and wallet into my pockets. I was curious—curious about who she was planning on meeting, if not me.
It was nine-thirty when I finally pulled up at the Watering Hole. I parked about a block away and walked up, pushing open the bar doors and walking in.
The Friday night crowd was thick, but my eyes still found her with ease. She sat at the bar, facing her blonde friend—the same girl that had ditched her the night we met. The relief I felt in my chest was unorthodox. She glanced up and saw me, the smile on her face deepening when our eyes locked.
I wanted to move through the crowd and make my way to her, but I didn’t know what I’d say to her, so I headed to the other side of the bar and ordered a whiskey.
Sliding the tumbler to me, the bartender took the bill I passed with a flirty smile. I looked past her, watching as Gwen’s friend stood. They hugged, and the blonde grabbed her purse before leaving the bar.
When the door swung shut behind her, Gwen turned her head to look at me. I held her gaze, lifting the tumbler to my lips, unable to resist undressing her in my mind’s eye.
She gave me a crooked smile and stood, picking up her clutch and moving around the length of the L-shaped bar to join me on the opposite side.
She’d changed into a little black skirt, the hem falling just below the swell of her ass. Sliding into the free stool beside me, she brushed a strand of her long hair behind her ear.
