“You almost look pretty. What’s with the makeup?”
“Faith did it, something about me scaring her customers.”
“Right, that makes sense then.” Newman managed to drag his eyes from her lips.
“So order already, I can’t stand here all night talking to you.”
“Two beers, and a medium white wine, thanks.”
“I got this,” Cubby said.
“All good, bud, you go find a seat with the others.”
Newman watched as Hope poured the drinks. She knew what she was doing and he remembered she’d worked here before leaving Howling. She wore a red bandana, and the contrast was something with her dark hair. The top buttons of her shirt were threatening to come undone. She looked hot, and way too sexy, and Newman wasn’t entirely comfortable with the look.
“Eyes up!” he snarled to the two Finlay brothers to his right. They were noticing Hope’s buttons too.
“There you go.” She shot him a look, then the Finlays as she placed the drinks before him.
“Your buttons are coming undone.”
She looked down at her shirt, but didn’t move to do them up.
“I’m wearing something underneath, and FYI, I can take care of myself, and have been for years.”
“Your shirt’s coming undone and you have too much makeup on.” Newman was not someone who usually spoke without thinking.
She braced her hands on the bar and eyeballed him.
“You’re always ragging on me about my clothes and inability to be a woman, in the Paul Newman handbook of how one should look. Yet when I’m reluctantly forced into clothes and makeup, suddenly I’m a tart.” She slapped his card back on the bar.
“I didn’t say you were a tart, and I was just looking out for you.” Newman winced at how lame he sounded.
“I see where you’re going wrong there. You keep confusing me with someone who gives a shit,” she snapped. “Now go away, I have more grateful people to serve.”
Newman sent the Finlays a look that he hoped meant back off, but wasn’t entirely sure they were sharp enough to get it. He then did something totally out of character. Standing on his toes, he leaned over, grabbed the front of Hope’s shirt, and kissed her on the lips.
“Happy birthday to me,” he said. Shooting the brothers another look, he saw they got his point now.
“What the hell!” Hope snarled.
Newman stepped back with his drinks before she could retaliate. The first person he encountered was Buster, and the smirk on his face confirmed he’d seen the kiss. He wore a black suit and glasses and looked like a Blues Brother.
“Pissing on your turf, boy?”
“No, just thanking her for the birthday wishes, baker boy.”
“So that was not about the Finlay brothers and the fact they had their eyes on your girl then?”
“Let it go, Buster.”
“You and Hope, who’d have thought it?”
Newman eyed his friend. Out of the group, this was probably the one who could hold a secret for more than ten seconds.
“Nothing to think about, so let’s leave it there.”
Buster then slapped him on the shoulder. “Your secret’s safe with me, bud.”
