“Thanks,” they both said in unison to me as they walked in.
I stepped inside, the lightening in the bar low, and the sound of soft music played overhead.
“Need Bishop to sign the paperwork,” one of the burly men said and pulled out a stack of papers that were rolled and had been shoved into his back pocket.
“Probably in the back,” the other man grunted, and the two headed toward the narrow, short hallway before turning into one of the rooms that had its door open.
I just stood there, unsure if I should go back there as well or wait for my interviewer to come out.
I could hear the men talking; then there was some deep laughter. A moment later the two delivery guys left, mumbling to themselves, not paying me any attention, which was fine by me.
I didn’t have to wonder long if I should head back or not, because before I could make up my mind, a man was walking out from the room the delivery guys had just come from.
He was looking down at a stack of papers in his hand, his focus solely on that, his short dark hair disheveled around his head, as if he’d been running his fingers through it. And as if my thoughts conjured that, he lifted a hand and ran his fingers through the locks, mussing them up.
The next thing I noticed was that he was tall and lean, muscular, as if he had a swimmer’s physique. He hadn’t introduced himself, but the way he held himself told me this was the owner. Bishop.
He glanced up and looked toward the bar, presumably at the liquor that had just been delivered, and then his head swiveled in my direction before he stopped.
He halted as if some invisible force pulled him to a stop. I saw his eyes flare slightly as he blatantly checked me out. My body instantly reacted in an aroused way, and I was embarrassed that his appraisal of me affected me this much.
I gave him a smile, which I knew didn’t reach my eyes, because on top of being nervous, I was getting turned on and liked the fact that my would-be employer was eye-fucking me.
He rolled up the paperwork and shoved it into the back pocket of his jeans, giving me a smile, his straight white teeth flashing, a dimple showing in his cheek. And my heart decided to do some weird beat at the sight of that, this warmth filling me. But then I saw his expression change as realization clicked into place.
“You’re my one o’clock? Korrie Abernathy, right?”
I nodded and offered another smile before smoothing my suddenly sweaty palms over my navy slacks. Had I overdressed for a waitressing position? Right now I kind of felt like I had, since he wore faded blue jeans and a hoodie.
There was this awkward pause between us in which we just stared at each other, and then he cleared his throat and stepped aside, swinging his arm out in some old-fashioned gesture for me to lead the way.
“Please, after you. We can do this in my office.”
His words instantly had my thoughts going right into the gutter on the whole “we can do this in my office” line.
I felt the blood rush through my veins, and my heart was beating so hard and fast that I swore he’d be able to hear it as soon as I walked by him.
And as I put one foot in front of the other and moved past him, I prayed I wouldn’t make a fool out of myself and trip, which would most likely happen in my case, since I became perpetually clumsy when I was nervous.
I went into the room that had the only door open. It was clearly an office, and a minimalistic one at that, with a desk across from the door, a few filing cabinets, a vacuum leaning against the wall, still plugged in, and a worn brown leather couch off to the side with a blanket sling over it. For some reason I thought of him sleeping here on occasion.
Bishop sat behind the desk and exhaled, then gave me a blinding, very genuine smile as I took a seat in one of the two plain office-style chairs that were situated in front of the old wooden desk.
Then there was that silence again, his eyes locked on me, this weird thickness starting to fill the space between us.
“So, Korrie, tell me why you want to work at Lyrics.”
2
Bishop
God, she was absolutely gorgeous. The most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. When I first locked eyes on her as I’d come out of the office, I literally lost my footing, unable to move—hell, unable to fucking breathe.
Breathtaking. Yeah… that’s what she was.
I found myself lifting a hand and rubbing the center of my chest. I knew I should have said something, but I was literally tongue-tied by how stunning she was.
Her hair was thick and curly, and so dark it reminded me of onyx. Her eyes were big, soulful, and a rich brown that was reminiscent of mahogany. Her dark skin was smooth, flawless, and her lips were pouty and red, drawing my eyes to them over and over again. I thought back to her body when I’d first seen her standing there. Despite the jacket and slacks she wore, I could tell she was curvy, feminine in all the ways that turned me on.
No, nothing and no one has ever made me feel like this.
“Well,” she said, and I blinked, bringing myself back to the present. “I love this bar and the atmosphere. It’s eclectic and unique, and my father loves all things jazz—as do I—so I thought this would be a perfect fit.”
“No,” I said, and she stopped, her eyes going wide. “Korrie, tell me why you want to work here.”
It took her a moment, but I saw that she knew I wanted the truth. I’d never asked an interviewee this, because it wasn’t my fucking business, but there was no denying there was something special about this woman, and a part of me grew curious to know all the things, all her secrets.
Finally she exhaled and glanced down at her lap, her thick curls falling over her shoulder. My fingers itched to touch her, to smooth my thumb under her chin and bring her head up so I could look into her warm mahogany eyes once more.
“My father is sick, and I need this job to pay his medical and prescription bills.” She looked up at me, and I leaned back, not expecting that to come from her. “And this is the only place that called me back for an interview.” She shrugged and glanced back down at her lap. I could see she twisted her hands together nervously.
“Look at me,” I said gently, coaxing. She lifted her head, and I smiled. “Thank you for being honest. You can’t know how nice it is to hear the truth.” I watched her shoulders relax, and she gave me a tentative smile in return.
“I wasn’t lying about loving this place though. All of that was the truth.” She licked her lips, and I was riveted to the sight.
I got hard.
My heart raced.
My palms started to sweat.
Nothing mattered but her. This tunnel vision settled in, and I embraced it.
“So when can you start?” I gave her a grin when I saw the surprise on her face.
“Just like that?”
I looked down at the application she’d dropped off just a few days ago, one of the waitresses having taken it. Hell, if I had taken the application from Korrie myself, I would’ve hired her right on the spot simply from the connection I felt with her alone.
And the truth was, I still would have hired her even if she hadn’t told me about needing this job, because she had to help her dad out. I wanted her close. It was this strange, sudden, but very strong sensation in me. It was as if this feeling I had toward Korrie was ingrained in my very DNA.