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“Sorry.” He clears his throat. “We can’t give you any more warnings. You need to be out by the end of the month.”
Oh no
“If you won’t accept money, then there’s only one other option.” “What’s that?”
“Work for me.” “Work… for you.”
“I appreciate you’re trying to help, but I’m not handy. I can’t build furniture.”
“I need help with the admin shit. Tracking orders, dealing with shipping and invoices. Honestly, business has been blowing up the last few years, and I need the help. I’d rather have you do it than have to hire some stranger.” “Are you serious?” “Yeah. And the more I think about it, the more serious I am.” “What about all my stuff?”
“But if you’re going to insist on being here, I’m going to insist you sit on the patron side of the counter. But, and this is just a suggestion, maybe relax a little. Pretend like you’re actually taking the day off like you said you would.”
“Drink it.” “So fucking bossy,”
I don’t have a usual drink. There are too many good options in the world to always drink the same thing.
But then the dim overhead lights shine off the newcomer’s dark hair. And my attention is snagged. It’s a woman. I sit up straighter. The woman is fucking gorgeous.
I want to face-plant into her chest. The bar is blocking my view, so I can’t see below her waist. But her body is soft. Curvy. Edible. And way too young for me.
Unwell
Society likes to make it seem as though men don’t like thick, curvy women, but that’s not true. Not for me. Not one fucking bit. I like to watch my women bounce. Like to watch my fingers indent into soft flesh. I like tits that can suffocate me.
Hiding my hand behind my empty glass, I cross my fingers. Pretty fucking please sit by me.
I want to get drunk. And if getting drunk also includes getting laid by some hot-as-fuck lumberjack… that would also be acceptable.
Hot guy or no hot guy, I’m not spending the night sitting with good posture, sucking my stomach in. Fuck that. I lower my chin into my palm and look over the liquors displayed behind the bar.
“How about a tequila shot?” She lifts a brow. “Celebrating or something else?” A sound close to a laugh catches in my throat. “Something else.”
“You want to join me in taking a shot?”
“You want me to take a tequila shot with you, Doll?” Doll. I flatten my palms on the bar for balance.
Unwell
Yeah, Daddy. I want you to take a shot with me. Off me. Whatever.
“Seems like something I shouldn’...
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“You heard the lady. Two shots ...
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“Anything else?”
“Two Coronas?” “Okay, Papi,”
“Okay…”
“Two beers and two shots.” “Thanks.”
“Put it on my tab, Jessie.” “What? No.”
“You two can sort it out while I get those drinks.”
“One round or best of three?” I ask the beautiful woman with beautiful green eyes as I mimic her hand position—readying myself for a game of rock paper scissors.
Omfg
“One and done.” I can’t help but do what she did, lowering my gaze to her plump lips for a beat. “Deal.” I know we’re talking about the game. But I also hope we’re talking about tonight. Because I don’t sleep with guests of the Inn, but… Maybe it’s her body. Maybe it’s her mouth.
Maybe it’s the way she fucking called me Papi. My blood simmers at the memory. Yeah, Baby Doll, I’ll be your Daddy.
“Sorry for your loss,” I tell her seriously. She huffs. “Not sure I’m losing when you’re paying.”
“I run cold. But the tequila should warm me up.”
“Dinner would warm you up even more. Have you eaten?”
“They do. Small menu, but delicious.” I tell her the truth. “You like burgers?”
“You decide whose tab I’m opening?”
“So, you know the bartender by name, and you have the menu memorized… shall I assume you’re a regular here?”
“I’m often told, by Jessie herself, that I’m here too much.” “It’s true,”
“As a regular, I’m confident you haven’t been in here before.” I wait for the woman’s eyes to return to mine. “So, are you new to the area or passing through?”
The man holds his hand out. “Luther.”
“Kendra.” His fingers close around mine, firmer this time. “Hi, Kendra.” Good god. His deep voice saying my name… It melts my insides. “Hi, Luther.”
Why am I blushing?
“I’ve never met a Kendra before.”
I feel like I’ve heard that name in a movie as the bad guy, but who needs superheroes if this is what the villains look like?
“Grab your shot, Doll,” Luther tells me as he reaches for his own.
As I swallow, I pull the glass away from my mouth and replace it with the lime. Luther leans forward. Toward me. Like he can’t help himself.
“Are we drinking to celebrate or drinking to forget?” Halfway through my question, the music turns up. Kendra furrows her brow adorably. “Sorry, what?”
Then she slides her beer toward me. She grips the edge of the bar, steps on the brass footrail running the length of it, and slides over onto what has been the empty seat between us. Jessie is immediately getting a raise.
My thumb slides between her jean-clad ass cheek and the wooden seat. I’m not copping a feel. I’m pulling her closer. She doesn’t protest. And I don’t stop until my knees are touching the outside of her thigh. It’s unnecessary.
Melting
“I was asking if we’re drinking to celebrate or… the opposite of celebrating.”
Her touch feels like a live wire. She applies pressure, pushing my knee toward the bar. “Just move for a second.” I follow her direction and spread my legs.
When I’ve made enough space, Kendra twists to face me, putting her knees between mine. This girl is bold. And I fucking love it. So I’ll be bold back. I close my knees around hers, and I can almost hear her quick little inhale at the contact.
“To the good and the bad.” She smirks. “For better or worse.”
