With this, I pause and turn back to her. “I don’t do blowjobs, sweetheart.”
“Oh, I’m sure you don’t give ‘em, but I bet you receive enough of them.” There’s a definite flirtiness in her tone, and she licks her lower lips. The angel is trying to tease the demon, is she? Get a response out of me?
I need to resist this, but I’m finding myself pulled to her. The fact is, last Friday was crazy, yet here she is again, pretending like it didn’t bother her. Maybe she’s trying to pick me up.
I can’t let it go that far—won’t let it. But I can’t resist flirting back. “Fine, but next we do a shot of my choice.”
She swallows a little, then nods. “Deal.”
I mix the blowjobs for us and hand her one. We clink the shot glasses on the counter, then raise them in the air. I give her a small nod, and we swig them back.
She gasps and rubs her chest. “Oh, that’s hot going down.”
“Pretty sure it’s suppose to be,” I lob right back.
She laughs, and her whole face lights up. The sudden shift in seeing her like this makes my pulse throb. Holy fuck, did I say earlier that she’s gorgeous? She’s ethereal when she’s smiling. “You make it good,” she says, and her compliment warms my chest in a way I find slightly disconcerting.
“What’s your name, sweetheart?” I find myself asking.
“Aubrey.” The word is a small breath, and she licks those sexy lips again.
“I’m Smith. Welcome to Rock Bridge.”
Her eyes widen in mock surprise. “That was actually polite, Smith. I hope you’re not losing your surly demeanor. I’ve so come to enjoy our encounters and I’d hate for you to change just for me.”
The half grin that had been working its way across my face grows bigger. Aubrey is…refreshing. She’s definitely flirting with me, that much is clear. But I like that she’s busting my balls too. Not afraid to throw it right back at me.
This one’s full of surprises, I decide.
“You ready for your next shot?” I lean toward her and stare into her eyes. Fuck, her gaze is so intense as she looks back at me with increasing sexual interest, like she has no filter at all. I can see everything on her face, every nuanced emotion. How the hell has she made it through life exuding this level of innocence, of naivety, and not been utterly broken yet?
I can almost smell her heat; the thought of how expressive she probably would be in bed makes me bite back a groan. I’m sliding into dangerous territory here—this girl is so not for me. I’d do well to remember that before I get caught up in her.
She nods. “What’s our drink of choice?”
“Jameson.”
“Whiskey.” Aubrey gives a nervous laugh. “I…really haven’t had a lot of that.”
“Seems like a good time to try something new,” I tell her, knowing my words are loaded and that I shouldn’t be saying it.
“Smith!” Maria bellows. “My new friend here wants to buy me a drink.” There’s a sharpness in her voice that I don’t quite care for. Clearly she wants me to feel jealous over some other guy trying to bang her.
I walk over to them, flinging a dishtowel over my shoulder. I keep my face expressionless; best to start cooling shit with Maria so she doesn’t think it’s ever going to be more than casual hook-ups. I give the guy a nod. “She likes rum and Coke, if you’re trying to get anywhere with her.”
Maria gives a little shocked gasp and blinks. She huffs and swivels to the guy, plastering a smile on her face. “That’s what I used to drink. Now I really like Jim Beam and ginger ale.”
I can’t help but laugh a little—it’s what the guy is drinking. Maria gets over shit fast, I’ll give her that. I mix one up for her and slide it to her, and the guy hands me a few bills. Then Sam is ready for a refill, so I pour him another beer.
“Thanks, man,” he slurs. His mussed brown hair is flopped over his brow, and he squints at his watch, trying to read the time, moving it closer and further away.
“It’s ten thirty-five,” I tell him. Sam hasn’t told me much of his story—unlike most drunks, he doesn’t treat the bar like a personal confessional. But I can tell he’s avoiding going home. Of course I wonder why, but I’ll never pry. The man has a right to his privacy; in fact, most of our “clientele” frequent Outlaws because no one gives a fuck what you’re doing. We all just mind our own here.
Sam nods, and I sidle back to Aubrey. She’s quietly watching me, taking in everything going on.
“So.” She clears her throat, and the pink on her cheeks deepen. “Um, we’re doing a shot of Jameson?” She digs in her purse.