Cruz
My Friday night in the tasting room is bustling, and Lane stopped in to help. The end-of-summer tourist season is booming, and in one corner, there’s a table full of rafters. In the other is a group of trail riders. A few general tourists doing a weekend of distillery and brewery crawls fill some of the other seats. And at the bar are two women working really hard to get me and Lane out alone with them for the night.
My anxiety rises by the minute. I didn’t ask to get hit on. It’s worse that there are witnesses. I’m used to rumors and speculation. As a kid, I hated it. I would succumb to the fury of knowing that the other kids were right or that teachers talked about my home situation. After living with the Baileys, the gossip turned to who I was seeing and for how long. Then there were comments about me and Lane pushing Myles out of the business. It didn’t matter if what they said was false. Nothing seemed as bad as where I’d come from.
But this? If the story swells and bloats until people are saying I actively flirted back, or worse? Went home with one of them? I’ve never had anyone on the other end who cared what was said.
I’ve made a lot of progress with Elodie. I can’t lose it now just by doing my job.
“The cabin we’re staying in is so nice,” one says in a throaty purr. She pushes her long, blond-highlighted hair off her bare shoulder. If her other strap falls any lower, the integrity of the top will be at risk, and I’ll get flashed. That might be the goal.
The table of rafters stands up. One of the guys gives us a big wave. “Thanks for the drinks. Damn good.”
“Appreciate it, man.” I see my reprieve and rush around the counter to clear their table. “Enjoy your river cruise tomorrow.”
They file out and I collect their empty glasses and napkins. I breathe easier getting a break from the incessant flirting.
Lane appears behind me. “Chicken.”
In this? Yes.
“I’ve got a damn good thing,” I mutter only loud enough for him to hear. “But I’m not sure if Elodie will think so if these girls go to the bakery tomorrow and boast about how into them I am.” I give him a flat look. “I’m not.”
An amused grin tugs at his lips. “Oh, I know. You’re ready to crawl out of your skin, and I’m enjoying the show.”
I glare at him. “Those two are thirsty as hell and it’s not for water or alcohol.” I stuff a finger at the dirty table. “I’m wiping this off.”
He brandishes a dishcloth I didn’t notice. Dammit. “I got it.”
“Jackass.”
His laughter follows me back to the bar. I juggle my armload to the dishwasher and take my time. Anything to keep from having to attend to the women and their cleavage.
One of them slides off the stool and tries to scoot around the bar. “Let me help with that.”
Alarm spikes my pulse. I spin around, a glass nearly slipping out of my hand. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Only staff are allowed back here.”
She pouts but doesn’t move away. “I used to bartend. I can help.”
“That’s what Lane is here for.”
Lane returns and she has to move to let him through. He gives them a charming grin, and I think I hear the one still sitting moan. “Don’t want us to get in trouble with the boss, do ya?”
Lane loves to use that line. He rarely identifies himself as the one ultimately in charge, and he definitely doesn’t out himself as an owner.
The almost intruder sits back down. “Invite him too. Our cabin’s big enough.”
Her friend nods. “We can pick up some drinks, and y’all can stay until morning. I hear there’s an excellent bakery we can try.”
“The bakery is the best,” Lane says with a shit-eating grin. “You’ve had some of the best desserts of your life there, right, Cruz?”
“Without a doubt. My girlfriend knows what she’s doing.” I didn’t know I’d been waiting to use that line forever.
The girl with the boob nearly spilling out doesn’t rearrange her shirt after my girlfriend announcement. Damn. I dump the remnants from the glasses into the dishwasher and load them.
When I turn back, Lane’s preparing a new cocktail for each girl. Fuck, that means they’re going to be here longer. I’ve never been this stressed before, but this is the first time I’ve been blatantly hit on in a long while. Usually, a little charm goes a long way. The other party puts out feelers, I wave them away, and we all go about our business.
I haven’t been seeing Elodie for that long, but I didn’t think to talk to her about these situations. I was too worried about her getting creeped on by the Deans of the world. Guys can flirt withher from dawn ’til dusk, and I know she won’t be seduced. She fended me off for years when she was interested. It’s different on my side. I’m the flirt she didn’t trust, and I don’t know who she’ll believe.
