She wiped her face with the back of her hand. She couldn’t start crying at work again. Danika had sent her home twice last week. It was humiliating. She didn’t want people seeing her like this, but it wasn’t as if she could take a leave of absence from bartending. Who did that?
And it wasn’t as if Gabe had done anything wrong really. He’d stopped when she finally pushed around the shock of what was happening and found her voice. Maybe he should have stopped before then. Maybe, knowing what he knew about her lack of history with men, he should have asked her direct questions about what she wanted like a civilized human. He’d seen her backing away. Surely he hadn’t thought that was some kind of foreplay.
But the important thing was... he’d stopped. He’d been so intense. It scared her a little. Maybe she’d watched one too many woman-in-peril movies. It had seemed for the briefest moment that he would take no matter what she wanted or didn’t want to give. She’d just gotten scared. Sure, she’d known him for a while, but she knew him like any employee knows a regular at a business—in the most casual way, possible. She shouldn’t have invited him in to begin with, no matter how much she liked him. If things had gone badly, no matter whose fault it truly was, she would have blamed herself for asking him in.
But when he’d immediately backed off with that look of horror in his eyes, she knew he didn’t plan to hurt her. Then she’d been mortified. She was sure that if it had been Danika in that situation she would have told Gabe to fuck off and get the hell away from her. But Julie had practically begged him not to leave. How pathetic. How fucking pathetic. He must be so glad to get away from someone so clingy.
It wasn’t like she hadn’t heard guys talk. In college she’d overheard a few guys talking about how it was all fun and games with a virgin until she got all clingy. Julie was sure that was how Gabe saw her—someone so inexperienced she’d latch onto the first man who seemed to know his way around a woman’s body—or clinging as if she absolutely must make sure the man she gave her virtue to was the only man who would ever have her.
That last idea felt a little too true. It was the goddamn religious upbringing that had rooted around inside her head. Maybe she had been saving herself for marriage. It wasn’t a conscious plan, but it was pretty weird she couldn’t seem to find the time to get into a relationship with anyone. And maybe she was old-fashioned. So many men wanted sex on the first date now, and she couldn’t imagine doing that. It was too intimate and personal. Like, Hi, I just met you three minutes ago, let me stick the most personal part of my body inside the most personal part of your body. All the cool kids are doing it. STD’s, pregnancy, and emotional vulnerability? What are those? Don’t be a buzzkill!
God, if she ended up married to a preacher, and trapped right back in that spiral of nonsense—oh how her parents would gloat like she was the little lost lamb being dragged back into the fold.
As much as she watched the door, hoping Gabe would walk through it, an equal part of her was almost relieved he’d kept his word and kept his distance. Maybe she could find a way to salvage her pride after all. Nobody but Danika knew the gory details.
Speaking of... her boss emerged from the back then. “Julie, I swear to God, if you start crying again, I’m going to—as my mother would say—give you something to cry about.”
It drew a laugh out of her.
“That’s better,” Danika said. “Look, I know you really liked Gabe. It would be hard for any sane heterosexual woman not to be attracted to him. He was hot, no doubt. And he had charisma.”
“I hope there’s a ‘but’ in all this because right now you’re making it worse.”
“The ‘but’ is... he’s too aggressive. Especially for a first date. The way he manhandled you? Seriously, Julie, I’ve been around a bit. I know guys like this. He might have taken no once or twice, but in the end guys like that are bad news. It starts out very romantic, but they turn dark on you fast. And you end up trapped somehow, where you can’t get away from them even though you once thought you were strong enough to walk away.”
Danika was talking about her ex. Joe was serving time in maximum security for killing a guy that had done little more than look at Danika wrong. On the outside, to some women, that might look romantic and protective, but how protective could it be when he was beating her at home? Right now he had a life sentence, but there was a possibility of parole. Danika lived with that possibility hanging over her head all the time. Because she knew if he ever got out, he was coming back for her, and there was no restraining order that would help her then.
But even if Danika was talking about Joe and not Gabe, Gabe had said himself that he was a bad man she didn’t need to know. A kind of danger had radiated off him that made Julie think he could be another Joe.
She didn’t need that. He was doing her a kindness staying away. But she couldn’t get him out of her head—or the romantic fantasy version of what things could have been like if she hadn’t freaked out.
“Speaking of dangerous assholes,” Danika said, “Watch out for this one.” She pointed to a guy with dark hair, dark navy jeans, and a leather jacket oozing into the bar. Yes, he oozed in. Walking would be far too pedestrian a description of the act. He had a tattoo of a snake on the side of his neck—like he’d just been stamped fresh with evil.
The phone in the back rang and Danika excused herself to answer it.
“Vodka,” the man said when she’d gone.
With that one word, Julie could tell from the thick accent that he was Russian. She poured the drink and put it on the bar in front of him.
“What’s your name, beautiful?” he asked, his accent lilting and curving delicately around beautiful.
She hesitated. Usually she told people her first name, but this guy... Danika was right about him. This guy looked like he’d just gotten out of prison. Before she could decide a delicate way to not give him her name or make up a fake one, Hank shouted from the other end of the bar.
“Hey, Julie! I need another beer.”
“You need a fucking liver transplant, Hank!” she shouted back.
The Russian laughed. “Feisty. I like that. I am Aleksei, Julie.”
“I’m sorry, excuse me,” she said. Julie took the opportunity to move to the other end of the bar and take care of Hank’s refill, wishing he ordered something more complicated than beer. She lingered at the other end of the bar, wiping it down, straightening some bottles until finally Aleksei called her back over.
“Julie! Another.”
She came back and poured him another vodka.
“You look sad,” he said. “Very sad. Did some bad man break your heart? I could kill him for you.” When Julie gave him what she was sure was a horrified look, he held his hands up in mock surrender. “Only joking, of course. I kid. I’m a joker. But seriously, I could make you... not sad anymore. We will go on date. I will take you to nice restaurant and you will be happy again.”
Yeah, asshole, you can magic my life into wonderfulness. If only we’d had you here sooner.
“Excuse me.” Julie went to the back where Danika was just getting off the phone.
“Problem?” she asked.
“That guy that just came in. He’s giving me the creeps. He’s hitting on me pretty hard and doesn’t seem to read disinterest. And really, I don’t think he cares.”