Beck doesn’t argue, doesn’t make any moves to go back to the other side of the bar. He simply lifts his hat, runs his fingers through his hair then puts his hat back on backward.
Are you kidding me?
“Tell me what to do, Jensen.”
Oh, so it only gets hotter.
The string of curses in my head is long, and they only get worse when I hear three different voices calling for the bartender.
“Ay dios mío, okay. Fine. Go wash your hands. Get me some more maraschino cherries on toothpicks. And turn your hat back around.”
Or else I’m going to tell you to bend me over this bar.
Chapter 16
Beck
Jensen James is a damn powerhouse. Not to mention, runs a tight ship behind the bar.
Coming to see her tonight wasn’t exactly planned, and jumping behind the bar to help was definitely not fully thought out. I just knew I didn’t want to go back home without her there.
Yesterday was weird as fuck, but the silence today was awful. I tried taking Dottie for a quick run. I tried an audiobook. I tried a game of pool with music cranked arguably too loud. Dottie abandoned me at that point, trotting up the stairs to what I imagine to be my or Jensen’s mattress. Her dog bed is mostly a last resort, I’ve come to learn.
I want so badly to put a finger on why things feel so different between us. I guess, really, we’ve both had our asses handed to us over the past couple days. Really, it makes sense our dynamic is changing, but that doesn’t mean we can’t find a new normal… Although I’m not sure we had a normal relationship to begin with.
With any other person, I’d be running at any hint of them showing more than just a single night interest in me, but Jensen’s little slipup has me reeling. It’s almost like she hates thefact that she likes me, and I don’t really know what to do with that.
Then we both practically put our hearts on our sleeve. For a minute, I thought, why not see what this could be, it’ll probably fizzle out, right? But then I realized my hand was resting on her thigh, and I knew I fucked up.
Having her bark orders at me tonight has definitely brought back a bit of what feels like normal for us to some degree, but how seamlessly we’ve made the night go should come with red flags waving every which way.
With the last customer out the door, one of the bus boys turns the lock with a sigh even we can hear.
“Tonight was insane,” he grumbles as he takes one of the seats at the bar. There’s not a chance in hell the kid is over twenty-one, but I’d want to come talk to Jensen after a long day too.
Jensen huffs in agreement as she wets a rag at the sink. “You did good, though. We all made it through.”
“Hey, what about me? How’d I do?”
Jensen gives me a pointed glare and tosses me the rag. “You don’t actually work here, but I suppose you did do a good job too.”
“I’m sorry, but this is so fucking cool.” The kid stands up from the seat and pulls a hat out of his apron. “I’m a huge fan of the Blues. If it’s not too much trouble, could you sign my hat?”
I chuckle. “Yeah, you got a—” I don’t even finish my sentence before Jensen slides a Sharpie down the bar. I nod at her. ‘Thanks.”
I scribble my signature where he asks, and then take the selfie with him because they always ask for one.
By the end of it the kid is practically glowing. “Thanks, this means a lot. Jensen, your boyfriend is so cool.”
“Oh, he’s not—” Jensen starts to correct him, but he’s way too focused on his hat to listen.
Jensen sighs as he disappears through the kitchen doors. “I’ll correct that later. Come on, let’s clean up so we can go home.” She picks the rag back up. “You wipe down the bar, I’ll start on the taps and bottles. And don’t half-ass it either, people working tomorrow will say something to me if it’s not done right.”
“You sure are a bossy girlfriend,” I tease.
Jensen clenches her jaw. “Not funny.”
I could disagree, but that terminology is so far from us, so why not laugh at it?
