Down to You
Page 11
“Fine by me,” she says, turning a brilliant smile on Cash. “I know what he likes.”
The guys around the bar start hollering and whistling at that, nudging and teasing Cash. Cash just smiles at Taryn. And it bugs me. I can’t tell whether there’s something between them or not. Or if it’s just a tolerant employer-type smile.
I hope if there ever was anything between them that it’s over.
It chaps my butt to think of him flirting like he does with me, watching me, teasing me, all the while sleeping with Taryn. It shouldn’t matter. He’s a playboy and that’s what playboys do.
But it does.
Dammit!
“Come on, boys. Let’s give ‘em a little help,” Cash says. The people around him start cheering enthusiastically. Cash smiles at them and then turns to face me, leaning forward a little on the bar. His eyes meet mine and one brow rises in that holy mother of hell-sexy way, then he mutters, “You’ve got one chance to make my mouth water.”
I suck in a breath. And chills break out down my arms.
Damn, he’s good!
I’m so glad for the room full of people. Otherwise, I might embarrass myself by stripping off all my clothes and climbing across the bar to wind all my body parts around him.
Caution is nowhere in my head when I taunt him in return. “Oh, I can do better than that.”
His lips curve into a nerve-racking smile. “I don’t doubt that one bit.”
Dragging my eyes and my attention away from him, I put all my concentration into making a good drink. It’s much more difficult than it should be. My eyes keep trying to stray to Cash.
As I’m rubbing the rim of the glass in salt, I forget and look up. Cash is singing along to a song about whistling and when the part comes for him to whistle, he puckers up his perfect mouth and does it right along with the beat.
I can’t help but stare. And, as if he doesn’t already have me flustered enough, when he stops whistling, my eyes climb back to his and he winks at me.
It’s the exact moment I know I’m in trouble. Big, big trouble.
Taryn pushes me to the side to slide a glass across the bar in front of Cash. It pulls me from my thrall. I pour my margarita, garnish it with a wedge of lime and a wedge of orange and offer it up as well.
He sips first Taryn’s drink then mine and then each one again, smacking his lips and savoring the flavors. I wonder if he’ll really pick the best drink, or if he’ll simply pick the one opposite the girl he’d rather see dance on the bar.
I realize there isn’t an outcome I’ll be happy with. If he chooses my drink as the best, I’ll wonder if it’s because he wants to see Taryn dance. Not that it should matter to me what he wants to see Taryn do.
But it does.
Dammit.
But then, if he chooses her drink, not only will her drink be supposedly better, but I’ll have to dance on the bar, which I really don’t want to do.
He nods and picks up my drink to finish it off. “We have a winner!” he says, pointing to me.
I feel relieved and victorious, but also strangely conflicted. Rather than look him in the eye, I remove the empty glass when Cash sets it down on the bar. My eyes move past Taryn who is smiling coyly at someone, I assume Cash.
“Good news, boys,” she yells happily. “I’m still gonna be making margaritas my way, and you’ll be getting some entertainment tonight. I call that a win-win.”
With a whoop, Taryn reaches back to flip on different music, choosing a very suggestive song that I have no doubts she’ll make good use of. When I see her climb up on the bar, I move to the opposite end to get drinks for the handful of people that aren’t watching her and cheering her on.
I do everything I can not to watch her or Cash. I don’t want to see his reaction. But when the cheers get louder, my eyes are drawn down the bar despite my resolve.
Taryn apparently jumped off the bar into Cash’s arms. He’s cradling her and she has her arms wrapped around his neck, very tightly it appears. She’s smiling like the cat who ate the canary—or maybe the cat who wants to eat the canary—and Cash is laughing.
Just as I’m looking back to the draft I’m pouring, I see Taryn pull Cash’s head down to hers and kiss him. And it’s not just a little peck. She looks like she’s trying to swallow his face. And he’s not resisting.
Cold liquid gushing over my fingers pulls me back to the task at hand. The pilsner is overflowing and beer is running down my wrist and into the spill tray. I jerk back and set the glass down, angrily flinging beer from my fingertips. I’m inordinately mad at myself for letting Taryn and Cash rile me up, and even more so for letting it affect me so blatantly.
I’m making furious swipes over the wet counter, cleaning up my mess, when Cash leans across the bar and speaks to me.
“I need you to stay after for just a few minutes tonight. Got some paperwork for you to fill out. Shouldn’t take long.”
I look up and meet his eyes. I want to scratch them out. And then spit in his face. And then curse him for being exactly what I thought he was.
A bad boy.
A playboy.
A heartbreaker.
But I also want to kiss him. And let him carry me up to the private room above us and put an end to the dull ache of desire that’s been plaguing me since the first night we met when I pulled his shirt over his head.
Dammit!
He smiles as he leans back. “Great drink, by the way.” He slaps the bar twice, like a pat on the back, and walks off toward the mysterious door at the back of the room.
That’s officially the point where my night takes a nose dive.
Strangely, what I’d thought would help Taryn’s disposition seems only to have made her more hostile. Unfortunately for her, my mood has plummeted, taking my patience and tolerance with it. So for the rest of the night, I give just as good as I get.
Even though I dread having to talk to Cash, I’m really relieved when the night is over. Taryn and I had graduated from thinly veiled remarks to her shoulder-bumping me as she passed, to me purposely backing into her while she was pouring a round of lemon drop shooters. From there, it escalated to her pushing a drink into the floor and splashing Bailey’s all up my legs. It made a horrendous sticky mess that took me far too long to clean up. At that point, I figured the only logical progression would be been hair pulling and vicious clawing as we roll around in the floor, growling at each other. And, call me crazy, but I’m thinking that kind of thing might be frowned upon in all places of business that do not include a Jello pit.
That’s when I stopped antagonizing her. Now, I’m just ready to go home.
As I’m closing up my end of the bar, I’m thankful I remember most of what Marco showed me. The things I’m a little fuzzy on I’m able to improvise by sneaking peeks down at what Taryn’s doing on her end. She’s just faster at it than I am. Obviously.
When she’s finished cleaning up her area, she practically runs around the bar and makes for the door at the back of the room. She doesn’t even glance in my direction, much less say anything to me. And I could care less, really. Her attitude isn’t the reason my stomach is in knots. My stomach is in knots because I think I have a very good idea of who’s doing whom tonight.
For that reason, I take my sweet time cleaning up. I’d rather die than interrupt them. In fact, I really wish he’d just forget about my paperwork and let me go home.
I’m berating myself for giving a guy like Cash a second thought when Taryn comes out of the room. I look up. At first glance, she seems…bothered. But when she sees me looking at her, she turns on her brightest smile, grabs her purse from behind the bar and walks merrily out the front door.
I want to paper cut her. On every square inch of her body. And then roll her in salt water.
Just the thought of that has me snickering to myself, which is what I’m doing when Cash comes out. He’s not adjusting his clothes or anything that obvious, but I know what he’s been up to. And I’m furious.
“You about done?” he asks casually.
I snort. “Are you?” I could kick myself for letting my upset show, but it sort of slips out before I can stop it.
Cash’s brow wrinkles for just a second. “I’m ready whenever you are. I know you need to get home.”
How convenient that you remember that now! You’re probably ready for bed. A real bed.
Gritting my teeth, I toss my rag in the bleach and snatch my purse from beneath the bar. I refuse to rush just because he’s finally ready. Refuse! Yes, I’ll be the one paying for it when I’m exhausted tomorrow, but tonight passive aggressive is all I’ve got.
He leads the way back to the carefully concealed door at the back of the bar. As I suspected, it’s an office. And a nicely decorated office, too. Especially considering that it’s located in a bar.
The color palette is both soothing and masculine with its rich creams and calming taupes. There are black accents found throughout the room in the throw pillows on the sofa and the lamps on the end tables. They tie in to the huge black desk and expertly-carved cabinetry behind it.
There’s a partially open door on the back wall. It looks as though it leads into an apartment. A very nice and spacious one from what I can see.
With a sinking sensation, I realize he and Taryn were probably back there. In a real bed.
I feel sick.
Cash motions me to a plush black and taupe striped chair in front of the desk as he takes the black leather chair behind it. He clicks a few buttons on the computer and prints off some forms, sliding them across the desk to me. I take a pen from the cup of pens sitting to my left.
Silently, I fill out the necessary tax forms and employee forms as Cash makes what I assume is an employee file. When I’m finished and there are no more papers to sign, I lay down my pen and wait. He finally looks up at me and smiles.
“So, how are you liking it? Besides Taryn, of course.”
I force my lips into a smile. “Fine, thank you.”
I see a frown flicker across his forehead again. “Is there anything you need to talk about? Anything I can do to make your job easier?”
Other than stay the hell away from me?
I bite my tongue and hold my smile in place, shaking my head negatively. He nods, watching me closely. “All right, well I guess I’d better let you get on home then.”
With a curt nod, I stand and leave as quickly as I can without being obvious. After I’ve passed through the exit and am making my way to the brightly lit parking lot, I give in to the urge to scream in angry frustration. Just a little. It’s more like a growl, actually.
I stomp to my car, throwing my purse onto the hood to search inside for the keys. That’s when I hear footsteps. I whirl, startled, as Cash comes to a stop beside me.
“Are you all right?”
His frown is still in place, but his eyes are wide. He’s obviously concerned. He probably heard my scream-growl, since he was coming outside.
Great!
“I’m fine.” I hiss. “Go back inside. I’m just leaving.”
“I forgot to give you your copy of the Release of Liability,” he explains, handing me a folded sheet of paper.
I snatch it from his fingers and stuff it into my purse. “Thank you. Good night,” I say dismissively, returning my attention to the hunt for my keys.
Cash grabs my shoulders and turns me toward him. “What is your deal?”
And I snap.
“Get your hands off me,” I demand, wrenching away from him. He looks stricken, which only makes me madder. “You don’t get to touch me. I’m not Taryn.”
“What?” He looks genuinely confused. Then he rolls his eyes. And I see red. “Is this about that kiss?”
I ball my hands into fists. It’s all I can do not to physically lash out at him. “No, it’s not just about the kiss. It’s about kisses and body shots and late night booty calls in your office and an assortment of things that shouldn’t be going on here!”
I’m getting loud and I know it. I’ve also taken a step forward that puts me right up next to Cash’s chest, which is where my index finger is currently buried. I look at it as if I have no idea how it got there, mainly because I don’t.
I look up at Cash, but he’s looking at my finger, too. Slowly, deliberately he wraps his long fingers around my hand then straightens his arm, pulling it out to his side. He tugs sharply, nearly causing me to fall into him.
“Is that what this is about? You think I’m sleeping with Taryn?”
“Of course I do! I’m sure it’s no secret.”
“Why do you say that?”
He’s so calm. Curious almost. It’s disconcerting.
“Well, first of all she’s gorgeous and—”
“You’re gorgeous,” he says softly.
My stomach flips over, but I continue. “And she flirts very openly with you.”
“I wish you would flirt very openly with me.” His eyes flicker to my lips and they throb like he’s touching them.
“Stop doing that. Don’t act like there’s nothing going on.”
“I’m not acting. Taryn and I have a history, but that was before she started working for me. I have few rules, but one is that I don’t get social with my employees. And now she works for me. That’s it. Nothing more.”
“But you kissed her. I saw you.”
“No, you saw her kiss me. You saw me not cause a scene in the middle of the club.”
“Well, you didn’t look like you hated it.”
“But I did. The whole time, all I could think about was kissing you instead.” He starts to bend his head toward mine.
The guys around the bar start hollering and whistling at that, nudging and teasing Cash. Cash just smiles at Taryn. And it bugs me. I can’t tell whether there’s something between them or not. Or if it’s just a tolerant employer-type smile.
I hope if there ever was anything between them that it’s over.
It chaps my butt to think of him flirting like he does with me, watching me, teasing me, all the while sleeping with Taryn. It shouldn’t matter. He’s a playboy and that’s what playboys do.
But it does.
Dammit!
“Come on, boys. Let’s give ‘em a little help,” Cash says. The people around him start cheering enthusiastically. Cash smiles at them and then turns to face me, leaning forward a little on the bar. His eyes meet mine and one brow rises in that holy mother of hell-sexy way, then he mutters, “You’ve got one chance to make my mouth water.”
I suck in a breath. And chills break out down my arms.
Damn, he’s good!
I’m so glad for the room full of people. Otherwise, I might embarrass myself by stripping off all my clothes and climbing across the bar to wind all my body parts around him.
Caution is nowhere in my head when I taunt him in return. “Oh, I can do better than that.”
His lips curve into a nerve-racking smile. “I don’t doubt that one bit.”
Dragging my eyes and my attention away from him, I put all my concentration into making a good drink. It’s much more difficult than it should be. My eyes keep trying to stray to Cash.
As I’m rubbing the rim of the glass in salt, I forget and look up. Cash is singing along to a song about whistling and when the part comes for him to whistle, he puckers up his perfect mouth and does it right along with the beat.
I can’t help but stare. And, as if he doesn’t already have me flustered enough, when he stops whistling, my eyes climb back to his and he winks at me.
It’s the exact moment I know I’m in trouble. Big, big trouble.
Taryn pushes me to the side to slide a glass across the bar in front of Cash. It pulls me from my thrall. I pour my margarita, garnish it with a wedge of lime and a wedge of orange and offer it up as well.
He sips first Taryn’s drink then mine and then each one again, smacking his lips and savoring the flavors. I wonder if he’ll really pick the best drink, or if he’ll simply pick the one opposite the girl he’d rather see dance on the bar.
I realize there isn’t an outcome I’ll be happy with. If he chooses my drink as the best, I’ll wonder if it’s because he wants to see Taryn dance. Not that it should matter to me what he wants to see Taryn do.
But it does.
Dammit.
But then, if he chooses her drink, not only will her drink be supposedly better, but I’ll have to dance on the bar, which I really don’t want to do.
He nods and picks up my drink to finish it off. “We have a winner!” he says, pointing to me.
I feel relieved and victorious, but also strangely conflicted. Rather than look him in the eye, I remove the empty glass when Cash sets it down on the bar. My eyes move past Taryn who is smiling coyly at someone, I assume Cash.
“Good news, boys,” she yells happily. “I’m still gonna be making margaritas my way, and you’ll be getting some entertainment tonight. I call that a win-win.”
With a whoop, Taryn reaches back to flip on different music, choosing a very suggestive song that I have no doubts she’ll make good use of. When I see her climb up on the bar, I move to the opposite end to get drinks for the handful of people that aren’t watching her and cheering her on.
I do everything I can not to watch her or Cash. I don’t want to see his reaction. But when the cheers get louder, my eyes are drawn down the bar despite my resolve.
Taryn apparently jumped off the bar into Cash’s arms. He’s cradling her and she has her arms wrapped around his neck, very tightly it appears. She’s smiling like the cat who ate the canary—or maybe the cat who wants to eat the canary—and Cash is laughing.
Just as I’m looking back to the draft I’m pouring, I see Taryn pull Cash’s head down to hers and kiss him. And it’s not just a little peck. She looks like she’s trying to swallow his face. And he’s not resisting.
Cold liquid gushing over my fingers pulls me back to the task at hand. The pilsner is overflowing and beer is running down my wrist and into the spill tray. I jerk back and set the glass down, angrily flinging beer from my fingertips. I’m inordinately mad at myself for letting Taryn and Cash rile me up, and even more so for letting it affect me so blatantly.
I’m making furious swipes over the wet counter, cleaning up my mess, when Cash leans across the bar and speaks to me.
“I need you to stay after for just a few minutes tonight. Got some paperwork for you to fill out. Shouldn’t take long.”
I look up and meet his eyes. I want to scratch them out. And then spit in his face. And then curse him for being exactly what I thought he was.
A bad boy.
A playboy.
A heartbreaker.
But I also want to kiss him. And let him carry me up to the private room above us and put an end to the dull ache of desire that’s been plaguing me since the first night we met when I pulled his shirt over his head.
Dammit!
He smiles as he leans back. “Great drink, by the way.” He slaps the bar twice, like a pat on the back, and walks off toward the mysterious door at the back of the room.
That’s officially the point where my night takes a nose dive.
Strangely, what I’d thought would help Taryn’s disposition seems only to have made her more hostile. Unfortunately for her, my mood has plummeted, taking my patience and tolerance with it. So for the rest of the night, I give just as good as I get.
Even though I dread having to talk to Cash, I’m really relieved when the night is over. Taryn and I had graduated from thinly veiled remarks to her shoulder-bumping me as she passed, to me purposely backing into her while she was pouring a round of lemon drop shooters. From there, it escalated to her pushing a drink into the floor and splashing Bailey’s all up my legs. It made a horrendous sticky mess that took me far too long to clean up. At that point, I figured the only logical progression would be been hair pulling and vicious clawing as we roll around in the floor, growling at each other. And, call me crazy, but I’m thinking that kind of thing might be frowned upon in all places of business that do not include a Jello pit.
That’s when I stopped antagonizing her. Now, I’m just ready to go home.
As I’m closing up my end of the bar, I’m thankful I remember most of what Marco showed me. The things I’m a little fuzzy on I’m able to improvise by sneaking peeks down at what Taryn’s doing on her end. She’s just faster at it than I am. Obviously.
When she’s finished cleaning up her area, she practically runs around the bar and makes for the door at the back of the room. She doesn’t even glance in my direction, much less say anything to me. And I could care less, really. Her attitude isn’t the reason my stomach is in knots. My stomach is in knots because I think I have a very good idea of who’s doing whom tonight.
For that reason, I take my sweet time cleaning up. I’d rather die than interrupt them. In fact, I really wish he’d just forget about my paperwork and let me go home.
I’m berating myself for giving a guy like Cash a second thought when Taryn comes out of the room. I look up. At first glance, she seems…bothered. But when she sees me looking at her, she turns on her brightest smile, grabs her purse from behind the bar and walks merrily out the front door.
I want to paper cut her. On every square inch of her body. And then roll her in salt water.
Just the thought of that has me snickering to myself, which is what I’m doing when Cash comes out. He’s not adjusting his clothes or anything that obvious, but I know what he’s been up to. And I’m furious.
“You about done?” he asks casually.
I snort. “Are you?” I could kick myself for letting my upset show, but it sort of slips out before I can stop it.
Cash’s brow wrinkles for just a second. “I’m ready whenever you are. I know you need to get home.”
How convenient that you remember that now! You’re probably ready for bed. A real bed.
Gritting my teeth, I toss my rag in the bleach and snatch my purse from beneath the bar. I refuse to rush just because he’s finally ready. Refuse! Yes, I’ll be the one paying for it when I’m exhausted tomorrow, but tonight passive aggressive is all I’ve got.
He leads the way back to the carefully concealed door at the back of the bar. As I suspected, it’s an office. And a nicely decorated office, too. Especially considering that it’s located in a bar.
The color palette is both soothing and masculine with its rich creams and calming taupes. There are black accents found throughout the room in the throw pillows on the sofa and the lamps on the end tables. They tie in to the huge black desk and expertly-carved cabinetry behind it.
There’s a partially open door on the back wall. It looks as though it leads into an apartment. A very nice and spacious one from what I can see.
With a sinking sensation, I realize he and Taryn were probably back there. In a real bed.
I feel sick.
Cash motions me to a plush black and taupe striped chair in front of the desk as he takes the black leather chair behind it. He clicks a few buttons on the computer and prints off some forms, sliding them across the desk to me. I take a pen from the cup of pens sitting to my left.
Silently, I fill out the necessary tax forms and employee forms as Cash makes what I assume is an employee file. When I’m finished and there are no more papers to sign, I lay down my pen and wait. He finally looks up at me and smiles.
“So, how are you liking it? Besides Taryn, of course.”
I force my lips into a smile. “Fine, thank you.”
I see a frown flicker across his forehead again. “Is there anything you need to talk about? Anything I can do to make your job easier?”
Other than stay the hell away from me?
I bite my tongue and hold my smile in place, shaking my head negatively. He nods, watching me closely. “All right, well I guess I’d better let you get on home then.”
With a curt nod, I stand and leave as quickly as I can without being obvious. After I’ve passed through the exit and am making my way to the brightly lit parking lot, I give in to the urge to scream in angry frustration. Just a little. It’s more like a growl, actually.
I stomp to my car, throwing my purse onto the hood to search inside for the keys. That’s when I hear footsteps. I whirl, startled, as Cash comes to a stop beside me.
“Are you all right?”
His frown is still in place, but his eyes are wide. He’s obviously concerned. He probably heard my scream-growl, since he was coming outside.
Great!
“I’m fine.” I hiss. “Go back inside. I’m just leaving.”
“I forgot to give you your copy of the Release of Liability,” he explains, handing me a folded sheet of paper.
I snatch it from his fingers and stuff it into my purse. “Thank you. Good night,” I say dismissively, returning my attention to the hunt for my keys.
Cash grabs my shoulders and turns me toward him. “What is your deal?”
And I snap.
“Get your hands off me,” I demand, wrenching away from him. He looks stricken, which only makes me madder. “You don’t get to touch me. I’m not Taryn.”
“What?” He looks genuinely confused. Then he rolls his eyes. And I see red. “Is this about that kiss?”
I ball my hands into fists. It’s all I can do not to physically lash out at him. “No, it’s not just about the kiss. It’s about kisses and body shots and late night booty calls in your office and an assortment of things that shouldn’t be going on here!”
I’m getting loud and I know it. I’ve also taken a step forward that puts me right up next to Cash’s chest, which is where my index finger is currently buried. I look at it as if I have no idea how it got there, mainly because I don’t.
I look up at Cash, but he’s looking at my finger, too. Slowly, deliberately he wraps his long fingers around my hand then straightens his arm, pulling it out to his side. He tugs sharply, nearly causing me to fall into him.
“Is that what this is about? You think I’m sleeping with Taryn?”
“Of course I do! I’m sure it’s no secret.”
“Why do you say that?”
He’s so calm. Curious almost. It’s disconcerting.
“Well, first of all she’s gorgeous and—”
“You’re gorgeous,” he says softly.
My stomach flips over, but I continue. “And she flirts very openly with you.”
“I wish you would flirt very openly with me.” His eyes flicker to my lips and they throb like he’s touching them.
“Stop doing that. Don’t act like there’s nothing going on.”
“I’m not acting. Taryn and I have a history, but that was before she started working for me. I have few rules, but one is that I don’t get social with my employees. And now she works for me. That’s it. Nothing more.”
“But you kissed her. I saw you.”
“No, you saw her kiss me. You saw me not cause a scene in the middle of the club.”
“Well, you didn’t look like you hated it.”
“But I did. The whole time, all I could think about was kissing you instead.” He starts to bend his head toward mine.
