I’m the one who buried my grief in ouzo and a one-night stand with unexpected consequences.
Mostly good, but being home again definitely has its struggles.
And now I’m getting pissed that I need someone to protect me tonight. What about the rest of the staff? Have I failed at keeping an eye out for them?
Oh god.
Am I a shitty coworker who hasn’t been caring enough for my fellow staff?
I square my shoulders when I’d really like to barf again. “I enjoy my job, sir. Thank you for the offer, but I don’t think it fits my life plan right now. If you’ll accompany me to the bar, I can refill your drink for you.”
“You know, your life could be longer if you took the right vitamins. I take them every day, and look at me. Yeah? See? Look at this.” He flexes his arm. He’s tall—at least six feet—and broad like a former college football player, and when he flexes, he takes up the entire hallway. “Solid as a rock. Here. Feel it.”
“It’s against the rules for me to touch guests, sir.”
The asshole angles closer. “C’mon, honey, you know there’s more here than justguestandbartender.”
Anxiety is giving way to anger, and neither is good for my stomach. “Sir, if I’ve given you the wrong impression, I apologize. I?—”
“She doesn’t apologize,” a voice interrupts from behind him. “Stop harassing the staff and return to your table.”
Goosebumps race over my arms and up my neck as Holt, the security guy, muscles his way around Eli.
If I were letting myself contemplate men right now—which I’m not, but if I were—Holt is exactly the type of guyI’d stare at from across the bar while debating how to best make my move.
Okay.
Okay,fine.
I’ve been staring at him at every opportunity since he interrupted my chickenfest.
Where Eli Harrison is tall and thick, Holt is taller and thicker.
Holt’s nearly black hair is neatly trimmed but still falling over his forehead. His deep-set brown eyes telegraphdangerand his square jaw and the way his biceps are testing the limits of his polo sleeves promise that he can back up any threat he makes. And when he turns around—justholy hell.
An ass like that should be illegal.
The relief that he’s here to help me mingles with carnal attraction and makes my belly flip for a different reason.
“You spilled my drink,” Eli growls at Holt.
In my fantasies, this is where the hot security guy pulls me to his side, growls backand you made my girlfriend uncomfortable, and carries me past the man who’s harassing me, apologizes for calling me his girlfriend but says he was going nuts trying to find me, and then we kiss dramatically, and?—
And nobody wants a single pregnant woman and I need to get a freaking grip.
Holt stares Eli dead in the eye. “Does your wife know you’re hitting on the staff?”
And while my fantasy wasn’t the right way to defuse this situation, neither is that question.
Eli’s jaw visibly clenches. The ice in his empty glass rattles while his knuckles go white. “Watch yourself, you little pissant. I can get you fired with one phone call.”
“Ziggy, go back in the bathroom,” Holt says.
Defuse defuse defuse.
It’s ingrained in me after seven years of close-quarters hospitality service.
Even when the vengeful parts of me want to see someone in Abby Nora’s family hurt the way she hurt me. “Oh, look, the whale sharks are at the window.” I can’t see the whale sharks from here, but the question should distract them both. “Is there a magic show tonight? I heard a magician was making a surprise appearance. We’re not missing it, are we?”
