I nod. “She probably has more hours and the pay would be hella better than Ma pays her waitresses.”
She tugs at the end of her ponytail and I’m all proud of myself for pulling that off with so much tact, until she says, “Ambling Rose is only open until four. Maybe when Carol goes on leave and I’m on nights here, I could do that in the mornings.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I say. It was an asshole move anyway. “I’ll put in a word for you next time I’m there.”
I’m a dick. It’s the least I owe her.
She gives me a sparkling smile. “Thanks for the suggestion.” She leans across the bar. “And whoever the lucky girl you’re into is, I wish you the best of luck with that.”
I nod, hoping she remembers she said that when she finds out it’s her twin sister. “Thanks.”
The two hours between when Destiny leaves and when Lilah shows feel endless, and I keep rolling how to approach this over in my mind. I am going to tell Lilah I’m into her tonight. I’m just not sure exactly how far I should take it. My stiff cock every time I think of her is all the indication I need of where I want to take it, but my better judgment tells me bedding her right off the bat is likely not the best strategy.
Because in my mind, this isn’t a one-time thing. For the first time I can remember, I’m thinking beyond the first fuck.
But when she finally comes in and I see her crossing the bar toward me, I’m not sure I’m going to be able to keep my libido in check for another night. Because the fantasy of throwing her onto the bar right this second and sinking my cock into her consumes my every thought.
I slide a tip jar across the bar as she sets her guitar on her regular stool and unpacks it.
“I don’t need a bodyguard,” she says without looking at me.
“Good, because I don’t know any.”
Her eyes lift to mine, cold as a steel blade. “I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it for years.”
I nod. “I’m sure you can. That’s not the point.”
“Then what is the point?” she snarls.
I lean across the bar. “The point is, I want to walk you home.”
She throws her hands up, exasperated. “I told you, I don’t need you to!”
I lower my voice and let every ounce of desire I feel for her flow through my next words. “But the question is, do you want me to?”
I know she gets my message when her eyes flare and her face flushes. My eyes skim down her tight shirt and, as if on demand, her nipples harden for me. Her mouth opens to answer, but closes again as she climbs onto the stool. She pulls her guitar into her lap and starts playing.
A small group seats themselves at the booth nearest the door and Carol brings their drink orders to the bar. I’m mixing when Lilah’s voice filters into my head, a song I’ve heard before but can’t place. But the lyrics grab my attention and when I glance up at her, her eyes are burning through me.
It’s a song about wanting something you can’t have. When she hits her stride in the chorus—a verse about how fighting base instinct is futile—I feel my groin tighten in anticipation. If I’m reading this right, she’s answering my question. And it’s exactly the answer I was hoping for. She’s feeling it too.
I mix her rum and Coke and slide it across to her. When she finishes her first song, she downs most of it before launching into the second.
Carol comes for her tray. “She’s in rare form tonight,” she says with a tip of her head at Lilah.
“Meaning?”
She turns her back to Lilah and mutters, “Meaning you two should just jump each other in Vicky’s office and get it over with.”
I scratch my head. “That obvious?”
A devious smile kicks up one corner of her mouth. “I could be blind and still see it.”
In between orders, I try to stay busy with cleaning and inventory so I don’t burn a hole through Lilah’s skin before she even finishes the first set. I keep her glass full of Coke, but otherwise leave her be.
When Marcus, my ex-roommate, shuffles through the door with his girlfriend, I breathe a sigh of relief for the distraction. They arrange themselves around the table nearest the door and just as I round the end of the bar the door opens and his sister Blaire and her husband come through.
I knuckle bump Marcus. “Thought I was rid of you.”
He shoots me a grin. “Caiden defended his dissertation today up at the Sierra State. I used the excuse to tag along for a Sam Hill burger.”
I look at Blaire’s husband as he settles into his seat. “How’d it go?”
He leans back, loops his arm around Blaire’s shoulders. “They didn’t ream me right on the spot, so that’s something. I’ve got some clean up but nothing major.”
“I don’t really get all that academic shit,” I say, lifting my hand for a knuckle bump, “but congrats, I guess.”
He bumps me. “Thanks.”