“Tied up in your bedroom,” Noah says this time. “And he was between your legs this morning.”
“Unrelated, but continue.” I raise an eyebrow, waiting for him to get to the point.
“Sounds like he's your boyfriend to me,” Noah says, wiggling his eyebrows.
“Now be a good girl and go to your station so I can work on this beautiful woman. Hello, Samantha. I'm sorry it took so long. Ready to refresh your purple?” He ignores me while talking to the client, and I start walking to my station. As I walk away, I turn back and see Noah looking at me through the mirror. I stick my tongue out in a mocking protest as I reach my desk.My best friend, the traitor. Instead of having my back, he gave the guy a haircut and called him my boyfriend. With friends like this, who needs enemies?
I open my messaging app again and type.
Me: Get out of my house.
The three dots appear, and soon enough, the asshole has replied.
Biker Boy: Don’t be rude, little criminal. You’ll miss me when I’m gone.
Stupid smug asshole.
Me: I would never.
I turn my phone off just in time for my new client to approach. I smile, trying to look professional as I say, “Welcome to Danielle’s Beauty Corner. I’m Rachel. I’ll be your nail technician today. Do you know what you’re looking to get today, or do you want to look at the colors?” The woman smiles at me.
“Yes, I have a picture.” I have some too, of a hot biker holding my vibrator, but I’m not bragging, I think as she shows me the picture and I realize she actually meant nail pictures. My brain is all over the place. I need to get my head in the game. This man is messing with my thoughts.
Chapter 5
Kai
WHEN I FINALLY ARRIVEat the bar, Leo looks like he is going to die on the spot. Three different customers are yelling at him as he tries to catch up, filling their cups with beer. A football game is on the screen, and the bar is packed with sports fans. I personally was never into sports, but owning a sports bar somehow seemed like a brilliant idea when I was eighteen and couldn’t figure out what I wanted to do with my life. Now, closer to my thirties than my twenties, I regret this decision. The money is good, though.That helps,especially when you’re financing a new security system to stalk your new obsession. Stalk seems like a strong word. Let’s switch it a little bit. To keep an eye on your new obsession. Yes, that’s better. I’m just looking out for her; the girl clearly doesn’t have any sense of self-preservation. I need to look out for her. What if the next guy she kidnaps is a murderer? I get behind the bar, and Leo gives me a disappointed look.
“Can you explain why you’re two hours late?” he asks as he pours beer for one of the customers. I smile and pick up another glass, filling it with the whiskey the guy in front of me asked for.
“Traffic,” I say as I turn to help another customer. “What can I get you?”
“Beer.” Of course, he wants beer. The one that’s in front of Leo. That puts me in his direct path of questioning.Excellent.
“Okay, let’s say I accept this answer,” Leo says as he hands a tray with a round of shots and beers to the waitress we hired for today. It’s usually a self-service kind of bar, but when it’s this busy, it’s genuinely better to hire someone to serve. It’s usually the same girl, a blonde in her early twenties who has a southern accent and smiles too much. At first, she was making her share of mistakes, but now she’s the solid reason we’re surviving game days. She has become a pro, serving customers with a polite smile and helping to solve disputes when drunk guys decide to pick a fight about the game, even though I’m pretty sure she knows less about sports than Leo and I do, and that says a lot because both of us know nothing. We are the most ridiculous sports bar owners. If you tossed me a football, I would not know what to do with it to save my life.
“Do you have an explanation for why we got billed for a new security system with the address of Rachel’s house?” Leo asks again, and I realize I used the bar’s account instead of my personal one to finance my stupid obsession.
“It’s an apology for kicking her door down,” I say innocently while I do my best to avoid his gaze. I serve customers, take orders, and smile like I won the lottery—anything to avoid Leo getting suspicious, which is probably doing the exact opposite since I never smile at customers, to begin with.
“You bought her a new security system with twenty-five cameras as an apology,” Leo repeats.
“I could have,” I protest as I fill another round of shots.
“But did you?” Leo presses.
“Fuck you,” I murmur as I try to move away from his line of metaphorical fire, but he follows me to the other side of the bar.
A customer yells, “Hey, I was ordering.”
“Shut up, dude, I’ll get your beer in a minute. I have more important things right now.” Leo yells at the customer and turns to me. “Please tell me you’re not stalking the girl.”
I cough, choking on my own saliva. “I would never.”
“Dude, your ex-girlfriend has a restraining order against you for that exact reason,” Leo yells in response.
“In my defense, I was young and naive and thought it was romantic,” I explain.
