“Later, old man.”
“Hey.” He turns around, frowning. “Quit that old man shit. I’m only five years older than you.”
“But thirty is sooo old,” I tease, laughing when he flips me the bird. “Shouldn’t you be married with a bunch of little rugrats by now?” Ford is a serial dater. In the seven years I’ve worked here, I’ve lost count of his girlfriends. Most don’t last past the three-month mark, yet he’s been with Michelle for five months, so maybe she’s the one. Or maybe he’s finally growing up.
“Just wait. You’ll be thirty before you know it.”
A throat clearing claims my attention, and I wave at Ford before turning my attention to Kent. “You again.” I purse my lips, purposely keeping my eyes trained on his face so I don’t gawk at how freaking hot he looks in that tight black button-up shirt he’s wearing. He has the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and the arm porn is to die for. Let’s not even mention how broad his shoulders are, how ripped his chest is, or how bulging his biceps are because that’s irrelevant. He’s dangerous to my health, and I need to remember that.
“Hey, beautiful.”
I roll my eyes.
“I’ve been waiting for you.” He waggles his brows, flashing me a blinding grin. His teeth are perfect. Straight and white, and they fit snugly behind his full lips.
“Why?” I prop my hip against the back of the bar. “Because you’re still horny and you think now you’re sober you’ve got a chance?”
His grin expands. “One thing you should know about me, Presley baby, is I’m always horny.” His eyes drill into mine, and a girl could get lost in those depths if she’s not careful. “And I always get what I want.”
“That’s two things,” I drawl, grabbing the wet cloth and wiping down the counter.
“Icancount.”
“Wow. Shocker.” I plant a hand on my chest.
“Go out with me.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to.”
“Why?” He leans forward, resting his arms on the counter, looking genuinely curious.
I wonder if girls ever say no to him. “I have my reasons.”
“Such as?” He quirks a brow.
I lean my elbows on the counter, propping my chin in my hands. “One, you’re a manwhore.” I fake-sweet-smile at him. “Two.” I pause for dramatic effect. “You’re a manwhore. And three—”
“I’m a manwhore,” he finishes for me.
“Now he’s listening.” I straighten up, continuing to wipe down the counter.
“You shouldn’t believe everything you read online,” he calls out as I move down the other side of the bar.
“Is that young pup bothering you?” Tommy says, pinning narrowed eyes on Kent.
I pat his hand, grinning. This guy is the sweetest. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.”
He sits up straighter. “Just say the word and I’ll flatten him.” He flexes his shaking hands, balling them into fists. “I had quite the punch in my day.”
“Stay out of it, old man,” Kent hollers. “You’re messing with my game.”
“Ignore him,” I pretend to whisper, knowing my voice is loud enough to reach Kent’s ears. “I intend to.”
“Now that’s just mean, beautiful,” Kent says when I move closer. “Throw a guy a bone here.”
