The Spencer dressed for work. And the Spencer dressed to play.
“You look good, Bella.” Once again, his eyes roamed over my work uniform that left nothing to the imagination. A small red bikini barely covering my nipples, and a see-through mesh wrapped around my hips. Thankfully, we were allowed to wear sneakers—for safety reasons, of course.
Coming to my senses, I cleared my throat. “Um, thank you. Drinks? Would you guys like some drinks?” I stammered over my words as I shifted my focus to the rest of the group.
“One bottle of Jameson, one bottle of Grey Goose, and all the mixers. One of every appetizer you offer. And I’d like to see you swing by here every fifteen minutes. Hope that’s not too much to ask.”
This man.
This hot as hellman.
I had a sinking feeling he was going to have my feet blistering by the end of my shift.
“One night of drinks and you’re attached already, I see.” I wrote down his order in my notepad, ignoring eye contact at all costs.
“I’ll make it worth your while, promise.” Boldly, he swiped his thumb across my bottom lip where I had unintentionally been tugging at it—a nervous habit.
“I’m going to go get your order in so I can make sure I’m back in time to fulfill your neediness.” Winking at him, I sashayed away.
Who on earth was this man? And why did I feel like he was going to be impossible to say no to? It was the absolute worst time to come across a man as sexy as him who made my stomach do summersaults.
While I waited at the bar for their order, I snagged my phone from the small side pouch I wore and pulled up the text thread with my girls.
Me: You’ll never guess who is at the pool right now.
The night after they left me at the bar with him, I spilled the beans to my best friends. We tell each other everything. I couldn’t help but gush to them about how much hotter he was up close, how he bought all my drinks, and the way the conversation between us flowed so effortlessly.
Andi: Please tell me it’s the hottie from the bar the other night.
Peyton: OMG! The Italian Stallion from Tuesday?!
They answered simultaneously.
Me: You guessed it. If you thought he was hot in head-to-toe Armani, I can’t even describe to you what he looks like half naked.
Peyton: I could faint just thinking about it.
Andi: Is he there alone?
Me: He’s at a cabana with a few other guys. Clients I assume. One of them is Jayson Jennings, the hockey player for the Neon.
Andi: Is he single?
Me: Oh, I don’t know, let me just waltz up to him and ask. *rolls eyes*
Andi: I’m dryer than the Sahara Desert over here, inquiring minds are curious!
Peyton: I wouldn’t mind if you asked either… Are the rest of them just as hot?
Me: If somehow their relationship status casually comes up in conversation, you two will be the first to know. But for now, gotta go!
Me: P.S. So fucking hot babes.
Peyton: Text us later with the update!
Andi: $10 says the hottie from the bar asks you out. Can’t wait to hear all about it!
“Order up, Avery!” the bartender called as I shoved my phone away, shaking my head at my ridiculous friends. We all had a shitty dating life. It was difficult for us, especially in our profession, that usually we stuck to a one-night stand, and our overwhelming sex toy collections.
