He walked away, leaving Ryder and me staring at each other across a span of fifteen feet after I’d caught him in an awkward moment.
Again.
The red stain of humiliation on his cheeks didn’t detract from his hotness. In fact, it reminded me too much of the flush he’d worn while on his knees before me.
Fuck, why did my mind always go there?
I cleared my throat. “I’ve got your table ready. Just needs water.”
His eyes narrowed. “Why?”
Good question. I huffed a half-laugh. We sure weren’t in the habit of doing favors for each other. Of course, we could count the blow job as the ultimate favor.
Why?
I shook my head as though I could dislodge the memory of his mouth. “Fucked if I know.”
He grunted. “You better get out there before Luke escorts your VIPs over. I’ll grab the waters.”
He abruptly turned and disappeared into the walk-in before I had a chance to thank him. Not that I would have. He hadn’t thanked me, though I suppose his return of the favor was his way of saying thanks.
Whatever. This interaction didn’t deserve another second of my brain power.
Yet as the night went on and I did my performing monkey routine where I smiled, flirted, served drinks, and entertained men with enough money to blow thousands on a Wednesday night out, I couldn’t keep myself from glancing at Ryder every few minutes.
He was off his game. Short with customers, lost in his head, and frowning. He’d even spilled a full glass of Macallan on a smartly dressed attorney I was sure would threaten to sue. Instead, he’d murdered Ryder with a glare and earned his table a ten percent discount.
It was so painful to watch him work tonight that I almost offered to take his table and let him leave early. The only thingholding me back was knowing how humiliated I’d feel if the tables were turned.
Who’d have thought I’d miss his cocky grin and untouchable attitude?
After the third time he fucked up an order, I couldn’t take it anymore. We were both due for a quick break, so I motioned to a coworker to keep an eye on our tables, which were empty while the VIPs danced.
“Ryder,” I shouted over the pounding music.
He raised an eyebrow, so I pointed to the break room. “Ten-minute break.”
He nodded once, then turned and strode away, shoulders hunched in defeat. I trailed a good fifteen feet behind him. If he didn’t get his shit together, he’d be out of a job and—
Wait.
Wasn’t I supposed to want him gone? Wasn’t that the entire reason I’d agreed to his ridiculous bet in the first place? A chance to get rid of him without any fuss?
He slammed through the staff room door with a harsh shove, leaving me frowning as he disappeared, and I realized I no longer hated working with him. Customers loved him, he’d made friends with the staff, and on an average night, he had most of the place laughing. Ryder made work fun.
I treated the staff room door to a much gentler push and slipped from the sensory overload of the club to the muted, almost peaceful staff room to find Ryder guzzling water in front of his locker. He had his chin tilted back, exposing the long line of his throat as he swallowed over and over. The urge to press my lips to his neck and feel those muscles working nearly brought me to my knees.
Before I could do something stupid, like rub my growing dick on him, he lowered the water. “Can’t stop spying on me tonight, huh, FL?”
I narrowed my eyes. The return of the nickname had my hackles rising.
“Hope you’re not here thinking I’ll suck you off again. That shit ain’t happening. Besides, it’s your fucking turn. Though I thought for a minute there, you might get lucky. Parker might fire my ass before you ever have to bruise your knees.”
“Ryder…” What was there to say? Until a few hours ago, I’d thought he’d lived a perfect, charmed life. And maybe he did. Maybe whatever he’d been arguing with his dad about was the ultimate first-world, rich-boy problem. Maybe his black AMEX had a new spending cap, or his Range Rover wasn’t his favorite color. Perhaps the alligator shoes he’d ordered got delayed, and dear old Dad had no sway with the delivery company.
But I didn’t think so. This felt more, bigger.
Ryder’s sorrow felt real, and for whatever reason, I didn’t like seeing it on him.
