Wild Temptation (7 page)

“I’ll pay Saturday, darlin’. I promise. Friday is payday.”

“So pay on Friday.”

He laughs, my snarky tone skimming right over his head. “Pretty girl like you should have a ring on that finger.”

“Keep it up and I’ll think you’re offering, Dill.”

He laughs again and hands me a fifty. “Here. Take that off the bill.”

I give him a sickly sweet smile. “Payday on Friday my ass. And I told you before, I’m single and I’m staying that way.”

I take fifty off his tab and put the bill in the drawer of the cash register. Turning, I ask, “Sorry it took so long. What can I get you?”

“I’ll have a Blow Job, please.”

Every word is clipped and British, and I know before I look up that it’s Tyler who’s asking. The request causes goose pimples to coat my arms, and I meet his eyes. I lean against the bar and fold my arms across my chest.

“I bet you will,” I reply. “Unfortunately, we don’t serve cocktails at this bar. You’ll have to go upstairs for that.”

His rose-colored lips twitch. “Then I’ll have whatever you’ve got.”

“There are several things on offer tonight, but they might not be what you’re looking for.”

“I’m sure there’s something in this bar I’m looking for.” His eyes flash.

“Then you should probably look at the bar instead of the woman serving behind it.”

The twitch in his lips pulls them into a full-fledged smirk. “I’ll try, but I’m not promising anything.”

“Oh, isn’t that the problem,” I mutter, turning to serve another person.

Tyler’s eyes are on me the whole time, following every one of my movements as I pour three pints and hand them to the barely legal co-eds eyeing me up.

“Are you working all night?” one of them asks. He’s built and leaning his elbow on the bar so his bicep flexes.

“I am,” I smile at him flirtatiously.

He winks before turning away with his friends.

I hear a snort from my right and turn back to Tyler. “Have you decided what you’d like to drink tonight, sir?”

“Sir?” he murmurs, rubbing a thumb down his jaw. “Yes. I’ll have bottle of Budweiser, please.”

“Of course.” I walk to the other end of the bar and bend down to grab a bottle from the fridge. I remove the bottle cap and place the bottle in front of Tyler. “Two eighty, please.”

He hands me a five-dollar bill from between his fingers. I snatch it up, turn to the second till, swipe my card, and ring up his beer. I turn to hand him his change and his fingers brush mine as he takes it.

“Thank you,” he says in a low voice.

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.

I should.

Should and will are different things.

I
give the bar one last wipe-down and the door opens. “I’m sorry. We’re closed for the night.”

“College boy left then, I see.” Tyler’s voice slides smoothly through the empty bar and wraps around me.

“I’m out of his league.” I discard the cloth and lean forward on the bar.

“And she finally admits what she actually said to him,” he says with a smile, sitting on the stool in front of me.

“How do you know he didn’t realize that after he fucked me here?”

“Because you don’t look like you’ve just been fucked. You look like you’re ready to be though.”

I straighten. “What are you doing here, Tyler?”

“Aside from informing you that your skirt is too short for work, I’m here to talk to you.”

“What could you possibly have to say to me that won’t piss me off?”

“I talked to Dayton earlier. She chewed my ass out and told me to stay the fuck away from you. Naturally, I’m ignoring her.”

“Naturally.” I flick the light switches and cross to the door. “Do you mind? I need to lock up.”

Wordlessly, he gets up and steps outside. I set the alarm and pull the door closed, sticking the key in the lock. I gasp when Tyler steps up behind me and slips his hand beneath the hem of my shirt, flattening it against my bare stomach.

“You’re acting like what I have to say isn’t important,” he says into my ear. His breath washes over my neck like a warm caress, and I turn the key in the lock with all my strength.

“I don’t particularly care what you have to say, Tyler.” I step away from him. “If you don’t mind, I’m tired and I’d like to go home.”

“Fine. I’ll follow you and we’ll talk there.”

“No, you won’t. You’re gonna sit your tight, little butt in your own fucking car and you’re going to drive to your own place. We have nothing to talk about.” I pull open my car door and pause before getting in. “Besides, I’m totally over it.”

I drive away before he can reply and take the long way home. Hell, I don’t want him following me. I still check the parking lot like a madwoman when I get back though. I have no doubt he could find out where I live if he really wanted to.

I’d be surprised if he didn’t already know, but that would be crazy, because I get the impression that Tyler Stone doesn’t hear the word ‘no’ very often. In fact, I don’t think he’s ever heard it.

Well, he’s going to be hearing it a lot from me. Turning up at the place I work in, giving my customers the stink eye, and then attempting to seduce me after my shift with the pretense of talking? Hell yeah, he’s gonna be hearing ‘no’ a fucking lot.

And that talking bullshit. I bet he wanted to talk—with his cock. Frankly, though, I prefer his cock talking over his mouth talking. His cock isn’t capable of spouting complete and utter douchery.

I shiver as I unlock my apartment door. Thinking about his cock isn’t helping matters here. In fact, all it’s doing is getting me worked up. It’s not getting his arrogant ass out of my head or the tingle of his touch off my skin. It’s making it worse.

I grab my phone to call Dayton, but 1:45 blinks back at me from the bright screen. Huh. Maybe calling her at almost two a.m. isn’t a smart idea.

I blow out a long breath and glance at Angus curled on the sofa. I turn the key in the lock and head for my room, intent on calling my best friend in the morning.

“I don’t have long.” Dayton slides into the seat opposite me. “Tyler will kick my ass if I’m late for the shoot this afternoon.”

The noise of the lunchtime rush in the coffee shop means that her voice is louder than normal, and I switch seats so I’m next to her instead of in front.