After pouring a tall glass of rum and Coke, adding some extra ice, I trudged around the bar and headed in his direction. Hopefully this time I wouldn’t tip it all over the floor. The closer I got to his table, the more intrigued I was. He was alone again. He was always alone. Every time I’d seen him come in here, he was always flying solo. He’d nod his head in hello before finding a quiet, dark corner. He never brought a book, he didn’t look at this phone—he just sat there. Alone. Seemingly enjoying the solitude. It made me curious in all the worst ways.
“I brought…you a drink,” I announced as I set the glass down on the table in front of him.
“Th-thanks?”
“I-kinda-spilt-your-dinner-all-over-the-floor.” My words came out in one giant garbled mess. I hated it when I had verbal diarrhoea. It only happened when I got really nervous, and I couldn’t place the last time I had been, but there was something about the way he looked at me that brought it all back with a vengeance. The stubble on his chin looked sexy and scruffy, and the thought of it scratching my thighs sent a shiver through my body. One look at his calloused hands had me wondering what he could do with them.
“That’s okay,” he replied with a deep, gravelly voice that shook my very core.
“We’re just organising a new plate. Shouldn’t be too long.”
“Don’t sweat it.”
He grinned and I think I melted. If I didn’t, then I wanted to. His easy-going attitude and that panty melting smirk had me thinking and picturing things I had no business picturing. He was a customer. I didn’t even know his name. He didn’t know mine. I was just a pathetic, horny woman. Even the illusion of interest was enough for me to squeeze my thunder thighs together as tightly as I could, hoping for a brief moment of relief.
Needing to get away from him as quickly as I could, I simply nodded at him before making my way back towards the bar. Halfway across the room, I detoured past the pool tables, collecting the empty glasses as I went. When I had a stack so high I could no longer reach the top, I started toward the kitchen. Two steps from the bar and a loud slap echoed through. Even louder than the chatter and laughter and the music playing in the background, the sound of a hand slapping my ass echoed.
“What the f—?” I spun around quickly. The glasses wobbled in my arm and I could have sworn I was about to drop the lot.
Now I was over the initial shock, my ass was stinging. I couldn’t believe some asshole thought it was okay to do that. Standing there wide-eyed, with tears of humiliation balancing precariously close to the edge of my eyes, I surveyed the men in front of me. They all looked extremely pleased with themselves. They were a ragtag bunch, in various stages of drunkenness. The unruly and unkempt beards they all wore weren’t in any way sexy. They were dressed in dirty khaki pants splattered with mud and god knows what else, heavy work boots, and matching fluoro orange shirts. There was absolutely nothing about them that turned me on. And the fact that one of them had thought it was perfectly acceptable to smack my ass as I passed by made me want to vomit. Or punch them in the face. Actually, punching them sounded like a better option.
“Apologise.”
Before I had a chance to register what was happening, I was nudged aside by a leather-clad shoulder demanding an apology. It was obvious he was new around here, but I kinda liked it. He was sticking up for me. Defending me. Being the gentleman that these other cavemen obviously weren’t.
Seeing the confused glances exchanged by the group of men, I got a sixth sense that this wasn’t going to end well for anyone. Grabbing the leather arm, I attempted to pull him away from the growing tension. He planted his feet and stood firm.
“Didn’t you understand me? I said apologise.”
“What’s it to you?” one of the gang asked cockily. I watched as he puffed his chest out, pretending to be the big man. It was all bullshit. He was shorter than me and was all skin and bone, well, except for the unappealing beer belly hanging over his belt buckle.
“That’s not how you treat a lady…”
“Lady, huh?” someone snorted.
Now I was pissed. I might not be a lady, hell, I knew that, but it didn’t mean I liked being treated like a piece of meat. Fuck, I might not think that highly of myself sometimes but even I knew I deserved better than that.
“Yeah, Josie’s no lady,” another added.
I could feel the rage coming off him in waves. I needed to diffuse this situation now before it exploded like a volcano. I could see it a mile away. My sexy, leather-clad defender was fuming, and I could feel him clenching his fist through the fabric covering his arm. The last thing I wanted was to see his sexy face get bruised because of some misplaced sense of duty.
“Please,” I begged. Even though it was barely audible, even to my own ears, he must have heard me because the moment he looked at me and our eyes met, something passed between us that set me alight. I wish I knew what it was or how I could explain it, but it was as combustible as gunpowder and more dangerous. “Please, come with me,” I pleaded again as I tugged on his arm.
Breaking our connection, he looked at the idiots in front of us, dropped his gaze, and shook his head sadly. In that moment I knew I’d won, he was coming with me, but at the same time it felt like I’d lost too. I didn’t have to know him to see that walking away without getting what he’d come for was destroying him. Hopefully I could convince him that not getting all bloodied up was worth it. And that I wasn’t. And I’ll be fucked if that realisation didn’t hurt like a bitch.
He let me lead him behind the bar and into the small office.
The moment we were both in the small, cluttered office, I heard the bang of the door as it was kicked shut behind us. Stepping behind the desk, I was desperate to put some distance between us. I could feel the rage burning off him like a furnace. Forcing myself to face him, I realised I wasn’t afraid. He was beyond pissed off, we were alone in the office, and I didn’t know him from a bar of soap, but somehow I knew I was safe with him. He wouldn’t hurt me. And he wouldn’t push me. When I took him in, he had his hands on his head and he was sucking in a loud, steadying breath. When I spotted the exposed strip of tanned skin and the trail of dark hair leading to his happy place, where his shirt had ridden up, I sucked in a breath of my own.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I told him, feeling guilty.
“You shouldn’t have to put up with that sort of shit,” he countered quickly.
He was right. I knew that. I shouldn’t have to, but it was part of the job. Not a part I enjoyed or liked at all, but it seemed inevitable. Usually it wasn’t this bad. Jenna wasn’t around, though. And it seemed like that made all the difference.
“I’m fine.”
“Are you?” His eyes were wide yet soft. There was compassion and concern there. It was definitely unsettling.
