“Fuck’s sake, I’m sure she doesn’t need any sugar.She looks sweet and lovely to me.”The bartender comes out of the back room with a basket of French fries, a cheesy smile stretched across his face.“She radiates sunshine and sweetness.”
Dear God and sweet baby Jesus, help me have the strength not to roll my eyes.Please, please?—
Obviously, those little prayers just did nothing for me.Aidan and the older guy sitting at the bar each bark out a loud laugh.And there goes my attempt to be professional.
“Just creamer, thanks,” I tell Aidan.
Scowling, I turn back to my computer and pull my hair up into a messy bun, securing it with a couple of pens.The feet screech against the floor as I shift my chair in.I pull my feet up and wiggle around until I’m sitting crisscrossed on the hard wooden seat.I tuck a third pen between my lips and start typing, pulling up the site template.It would be great if he just gave me creative license, but we’ll see.People say that shit all the time and then change every last detail on their sites.
“And look at how she folds herself up so neatly on that chair.She’s sweet and bendy, like Twizzlers.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see this guy leaning forward over the bar, dousing his fries in vinegar, a wide grin practically splitting his face.
Is he serious?
Aidan’s jaw twitches as he stares past me.There are only the four of us in here, but the silence is deafening.
“Finn,” he grits out before mumbling, “Christ,”under his breath.“Adelaide, I’m sorry.He thinks he’s pretty slick, but?—”
“Please don’t hold this against me,” I manage to say quietly before turning in my seat to look at this guy, Finn.“Twizzlers can leave some nasty whip marks, given the right velocity.Maybe you should watch yourself.”Facing forward again, I push my glasses back up my nose and ask Aidan, “Are we ready to do this?”
Eyes wide, Aidan is working really hard to contain himself, but the older gentleman sitting at the bar barks out a deep belly laugh.Cheeks red above his full beard, he says something to the bartender in not English—maybe Irish?And the dude frowns and goes back to washing glasses or something.
“Sorry.Francie—he’s the owner—just told Finn he’s not going to be able to charm his way into your good graces.He thinks…well, I told you already.”Aidan waves his hand and drinks down about a third of his beer.“What have we got then?”He scoots over and peers at my screen.
We work for a bit, and I think I’m getting a pretty good idea of what he wants for his site.It’s all good until the air shifts, and I square my shoulders, the skin prickling along the back of my neck.
“Thought you might like a little warming up.”Leaning heavily on the back of my chair, Finn refills my coffee cup.But he lingers, crowding me.
Don’t react.He’s just looking for a reaction.
And, when I think it’s safe, I release the breath I’m holding.
He lets loose with another comment.“Personally, I think you’re smoking hot.You’ve got me burning up.”
He seriously thinks he’s good at this.
I pull a strained breath in through my nose, hard enough to wiggle my septum ring I neatly tucked up—again, trying for that professional vibe.“You’re burning up?”
“I am,” he purrs.“Think you can help me?”
I twist my lips, assessing him.He’s tall and lean.Just starting to put on some muscle.He looks like he’s close to my age with an artfully tousled mop of dark-red curls.He’s cute, but for the love of God…
“I’m not a doctor, but generally, antibiotics are a good idea to nip that shit in the bud.Some of those”—I dismissively flap my hand toward his pants—“diseases can be cleared up pretty quickly, from what I’ve heard.”
2
“What’s your sign?”
“Stop.”
Finn
Francie might be right.This girl is quick on the comebacks.And seriously witty.I like that.
“Should I sit and keep you company?Be your inspiration?”It looks like she’s working on something for Aidan.I pull out the chair next to her, thinking I’ll slide in close and keep working on her.
She looks at me over the top of her glasses and deadpans, “Or you could not.”
