Total pages in book: 210
Estimated words: 203847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1019(@200wpm)___ 815(@250wpm)___ 679(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 203847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1019(@200wpm)___ 815(@250wpm)___ 679(@300wpm)
I nudge the register drawer shut with my hip. “You’re welcome.” I leave him smiling into the top of his bottle and return to Dill. “Another?”
He nods, eyeing Tyler. “Who’s that?”
“That’s the thorn in my side,” I quip, pulling down on the ale handle. “On the tab?”
Dill grunts a yes. “He bothering you, Liv darlin’?”
“Nah, not so much.” I shrug a shoulder. “He’s like one of those little flies you get in the summer. Gnats, is it? Like them, he just won’t go away.” I glance down the bar at Tyler and he grins.
“Bit of bug spray will get rid of those. Course, you’d need a baseball bat for a gnat the size of him.”
“Dill, honey, if it wouldn’t get me arrested, I would have done it before now.” I rap my hand on the bar and glance at the clock. Crap. The about-to-be-engaged couple’s champagne.
I spin and grab a bottle and two flutes. I carry them over to the table and set the glasses down. The girl looks at me with wide eyes, and I turn to the guy. He’s wearing a shy smile.
“Would you like me to pop the cork, sir?”
“In a moment.” He moves from his chair, and I step back.
Really? He’s going to make me stand here in front of him and hold a bottle of fucking champagne while he proposes to her?
Oh, yep. He’s on one knee. He is. Fantastic. Hello, Mr. Romance? I have a bar to tend to and customers to serve. Not to be rude, but could we hurry this up?
Seriously, though. A proposal in a bar. No dinner and they’re both wearing Seahawks jerseys. It’s not even football season.
“Pop the cork,” Tyler whispers in my ear as he passes.
When I turn, he’s heading for the men’s room. Giving my attention back to the couple in front of me, I notice that the ring is on her finger and she’s crying. Great. A crier. Everyone loves a crier.
“Congratulations,” I smile, popping the cork and pouring them two glasses. I turn away before I’m subjected to that phony linking-arm thing people do.
Barely Legal Co-Ed approaches the bar again when I’m drying out the inside of a glass. “Can I get another?”
Resisting the urge to roll my eyes, I reply, “You sure can, honey. And for your friends?”
“If you don’t mind.”
Tyler takes his seat as I pour another three pints for Mr. Muscle over here. He watches us casually, but I can feel that there’s more to his gaze than just general interest.
I put the pints down in front of the young guy and ring up his order. “Seventy thirty, please.”
“There you go, gorgeous.” He hands me a ten-dollar bill and I take it. “How often do you work here?”
“Most days,” I reply vaguely. “How often do you come in here to pick up the bar staff?”
He laughs, but it does nothing for me, unlike Tyler’s quiet chuckle at the other end of the bar that somehow seems louder.
“I’m Baz,” College Guy says, holding out his hand for me to shake.
I put his change in his hand and lean forward. “I’m out of your league,” I whisper, pulling back with a small smile.
He looks at me, amused, before grabbing all three pints and going back to his friends. Tyler’s bottle is empty, so I grab it.
“Another?”
He pulls his eyes away from Baz and looks at me. “Yes,” he answers in a clipped tone.
I raise my eyebrows and grab another. I place it back in front of him, and he grabs my wrist before I can move away.
“What did you say to that guy? When he told you his name?” Jealousy and annoyance flash in his eyes.
“I told him I’m the girl he’s taking home later.” I snatch my wrist with an innocent smile. “Two eighty, please.”
He counts out the exact change and drops it on the bar, the sound clinking over the music. “Do you often go home with college kids who wank more often than they fuck?”
Wank. What a wonderful word.
“Why are you smiling?”
I lick my lips. “Wank. It’s a very British word.”
“I’m British, if you hadn’t noticed.”
“I noticed. Somewhere between you hooking my legs over your shoulders and pinning me against my car.” I lean against the bar again. “Does it matter if I leave work with college guys?”
“You’re free to leave with who you like. For now.”
“For now? That sounds like someone planning to intervene in my lifestyle.”
Tyler drinks his beer in one go and slides the bottle across the bar to me. “That sounds like someone who’s meeting you from work with an offer you won’t be able to resist.”
“Sounds like someone’s cocky.”
He drops his eyes to my hips and back up. “You’d know, baby girl. You’d know.”
My eyes follow him out of the bar and stare at the door for a minute after he’s gone. My body is on red alert. An offer I won’t be able to resist? I shouldn’t even entertain the thought. I should snort derisively, go back to work, and leave without considering talking to Tyler Stone.