CHAPTER 2

Avery

“How much would it cost to get a drink—and your number?”

Assholes.

If I had a dollar for every time someone asked me that question, well, let’s say I wouldn’t be working in this tacky bar to begin with.

“The prices are on the menu. My number, however, isn’t.” I delivered flatly.

He leaned against the bar in a pose he probably thought was sexy and winked suggestively at me. “Everything is on the menu for me.”

My eyes dropped to his hand on the bar top—to the expensive looking watch he had on. Figures.

Make that a rich asshole.

“Sorry to disappoint.” I said in the same measured tone. “What drink would you like to get?”

He looked mildly taken aback that I had refused to give him my number. I guess he was used to getting what he wanted. He was sort of average looking and I knew it was probably his money that made him think he could get whatever he wanted. He had lucked out tonight ‘cause I wasn’t into assholes.

“You really don’t have to play hard to get, you know?”

“Are you getting a drink or not?”

“I’m not buying anything anymore. In fact, with such poor customer service, I might just stop coming here altogether.”

Add entitled to the list.

“Door’s that way.” I shrugged and turned away from him, already facing the next customer.

This wasn’t the first time someone had tried to get my number by all means and it was starting to get irritating. Some had even gone as far as calling me names yet every single time, it never ceased to amaze me how petty some men were and how little they thought of women.

I would bet my bottom dollar that the rich asshole was married. Discreetly, I turned towards him and my eyes found the engagement ring on his left hand. I shook my head. They were starting to get predictable.

Sliding the next customer’s drink over to him, my eyes caught the time on the huge clock overhead. I had two more hours before my shift ended. Tonight was going so slowly, and one hour seemed like three. Were we having shorter days and longer nights?

The married asshole was obviously fuming. He muttered some words that I didn’t catch then turned and stormed out. No one paid him any attention. The regular customers and my co-workers were probably used to them by now. How could one not be at a bar like this?

Before, customers like him used to elicit all sorts of reactions from me , but they rarely did anymore. Their comments and jabs bounced off me now, and it was always the same thing. When they got tired, they would leave.

My best friend and co-worker, Mariah, wasn’t on shift with me tonight so it was really boring. I wasn’t that friendly with my other co-workers.

I grabbed a bar and decided to occupy myself by wiping the bar tops when I had this prickly feeling at the back of my neck. I felt like I was being watched. Unable to fight the sensation, my head lifted, scanning the crowd for anyone that might be familiar or strange. There were a couple of people dancing around, some walking and some just plain sipping their drinks. No-one seemed to be doing anything extraordinary . No-one seemed to be paying attention to me at all.

I rubbed the back of my neck with my free hand, feeling disoriented. I knew what I felt. It was too intense and I haven’t felt something like that before so what the hell was going on?

When my eyes scanned the bar again and I didn’t see anyone watching me, I shrugged and went back to work. A guy came over to the bar to order for a refill and I went on my tiptoes to get the drink from the top counter. As I was filling up the glass, I got the same feeling again, way more intense than the first time. This time, I lifted my head immediately and locked eyes with a man over six feet tall standing off from the crowd. Even if he hadn’t been standing off from the crowd, that height was enough to make him stand out. How had I not seen him before?

As far as I could see, he had on a black long-sleeved polo shirt. A wide-shouldered frame and a big—but not bulky muscular build. And he was staring right back at me! Why hadn’t I seen him the first time? And what was it about him that made it unable for me to look away?

“What the hell?”

The exclamation pulled me back to the present. The drink!

Shit.

I dropped the bottle hurriedly and saw that the liquid had poured all over the bar top and was now rolling over onto the ground. The guy had quickly stepped back on time to avoid being bathed by the drink so, thankfully, I had just one thing to worry about. Paying for the drink.

“Oh my God, I am so sorry.” I told the guy as I tried to clean up my mess with the rag. “I really don’t know what I was thinking. Did the drink get on you? Do you—”

“Hey, it’s okay.” The guy cut me off, placing his hand on my arm to stop my hurried movements, “It was just a mistake, yeah?”

“Yes, but—”

“Its calm. Don’t worry about it.” Then he walked away, still wearing that small smile.

I slammed the rag down when I was done cleaning and dropped my forehead on the bar top. I wanted to die of mortification. I couldn’t even meet the eyes of my coworkers. They were definitely going to laugh at me and if they wanted to know the reason I had been so distracted that I poured a glass over, what would I tell them?

Oh, God. What if they had even caught me staring at him?

I groaned, staring out the side of my eye at the half-empty bottle. It just had to be an expensive one. Only the expensive drinks were kept on the top counter. How on earth was I going to be able to afford paying for it?

My shift tonight was four hours. Even if I gave my pay away, it still wouldn’t be enough to pay for the drink. Fuck.

What the hell had I been thinking?

How could I forget myself completely like that?

I couldn’t remember that ever happening to me before, coupled with the intense feeling I got about being watched. So what was it about this guy? I didn’t get a clear look at his face because he hadn’t been standing under the lights and I hadn’t found the courage to look in his direction again. I still hadn’t even lifted my head yet.

I had no choice but to raise my head when a customer came. Besides, I needed to gather as much tips as I could to pay for that drink. Better to tell the manager that someone bought the whole thing than tell him that I had wasted it due to nay clumsiness. I hid it underneath the bar, in my section and got back to work, determined not to look at the stranger in the dark again. I couldn’t afford any more slip up. Literally.

Plus, I was pissed that now I had to give away today’s pay for a guy I didn’t even get to see. A pay that would have gone a long way for me.

Despite my concrete will to not stare in his direction again—turns out it wasn’t that concrete—I found my eyes being drawn there because even though it wasn’t as intense, I still couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. He was still there, standing in the dark and still watching me.

Why was he even looking at me? I didn’t know him, at least I was positive about that. Even if I still couldn’t see his face clearly, if I ever met a guy like him, I would definitely recognise him. So what was it about him that had me feeling like this?

He finally stepped under the light and my breath caught, because, fuck, he was hands down the most good-looking guy I had ever seen. With a square jaw, roman nose, and full lips, he was beyond gorgeous and venturing onto tempting. And I wasn’t the only one staring. Some girls had stopped dancing with their partners to stare and even one seemed to be trying to talk to him and I didn’t know why I felt the strange urge to stake my claim and shout, ‘I saw him first’.

I guess I didn’t have to bother about that because he didn’t even seem to notice her and I was too caught up in staring at the way he moved in a controlled, almost sensual pace that I realised, too late that he was coming to the bar.

Shit.