I stalled one step into her studio apartment. From the tiled floor all the way up to the ceiling was color everywhere. She had sunsets on one wall and pictures of her and tons of people on the other. She’d made collages and framed them. Then, she’d placed them side by side to make a sort of timeline of her life.
Her place was filled with happiness and vibrance. Sunflowers sat in a blue vase on her table, and bright-pink flowers were on a side table where she’d set up her living area. “Wow, Ladybug. You lived here long?”
“Long enough to put together my space, I guess.” She pulled the cat food from a little cupboard while Mr. Tabby rubbed against her thigh because the cat was that big. It stood taller than her shin, a veritable bobcat on steroids.
He turned his feline gaze on me and his ears went back. The meow that came from him was low, territorial, and definitely mean.
“Mr. Tabby, don’t be rude. He’s not staying or stealing your food.”
“That’s not a tabby, woman. I’m serious, I think it’s wild.” I stood by the door, ready to dart out if it came for me. I had a feeling it would inflict more pain than a dog attack.
“He’s probably mixed with a Bengal or something. Like I said, he just showed up. He’s a little bigger than most cats, but I keep him on a leash when I walk him.”
“I’m sorry, did you say—” I pictured her outside with the lion and tried to tell myself she couldn’t get more adorable. “Did you say you walk him?”
“Of course. He loves being outside. You saw him try to dart.”
“Because he belongs in the damn Serengeti, woman.”
She tilted her head as she watched him devour the first scoop of food she’d poured for him. “Maybe. But he’s mine, and I’m keeping him.”
Would she say the same about me if I kept following her around too?
“If you say so. Better change for work.” I pulled my phone out to glance at the time. “We should get over there pretty soon.”
“Mm-hmm. I’ll just wear this or a Heathen’s top if you still have extras when we get there.”
Now that I’d seen her in skintight jeans and a low-cut top, I wanted to take back my taunting. My throat closed just thinking about her serving guys all night. I couldn’t throw out a standard when all the Heathen’s girls wore less than her. I gulped down the sick feeling and clapped my hands together.
“Let’s get going then. I’ll have you bartend with me tonight.”
“Don’t you need a waitress?” She grabbed her keys and bag off the counter.
I shrugged.
Truth was, I could do without a waitress or a bartender if it meant keeping wandering eyes from locking onto her.
Zoey was coming out of her shell, and I knew that meant my inner heathen was going to have come out of hiding too.
7
Zoey
Halfway through the night, I took a break because I’d sweat bullets through my top. I figured I would take a few swigs of water in back and find one of the Heathen’s shirts to change into.
My first step of getting back to myself was dressing like myself. I wanted to shed the layers, be happy with who I was again, and okay with my body.
My mother’s words echoed in my head that nothing that had happened in that basement was my fault. The clothing was a part of that.
The night was busier than the other shift I’d worked, and if that meant dressing in less clothing so I could be comfortable, I would.
I was lighter on my feet now. I could be myself—I wanted to be myself—and I wanted to have fun with it too.
I threw my sweater into my bag and pulled on the white Heathen’s top. The red lettering across my chest stretched and was cut in the middle to form a V over my cleavage. I’d be tempting a lot of men with this look. Still, I felt safe in this space, like not one person was going to let a damn thing happen to me here.
I smoothed my hands over the top and smiled as it hugged my curves. Cole had looked more than once at my chest today, and I knew he was thinking about the text I’d sent him days ago. I was too.
Something in me that hadn’t stirred for a long time was heating up again with him. Exploring how far I would go sexually with a man who turned me on just by looking at me was going to be fun. And I needed fun after avoiding it for so long.
When I pushed open the swinging door to get back out to the bar, the first person who saw me was Drake.
He let out a low whistle and then warned me, “Cole’s not going to like that.”
Peering down and then back up at him, I said, “What’s not to like? He specifically told me to wear this when I started.”
Right as I said the words, Cole turned back toward us from the bar where he was handing out shots. His eyebrows slammed down as he stalked over. “I thought you were taking a break, Bug.”
“I took one to change. I’ve been sweating for the past hour.”
Red bounded up to the bar and whooped when she saw my top. “You’re officially one of us, girl!”
“I need to get you all bigger shirts,” Cole grumbled as he scratched at his mess of hair and went back to work.
My stomach dropped a little when his eyes didn’t hold mine. That was it? Hardly an acknowledgment? He didn’t have a thing to say about me adopting their attire? Didn’t he want me here?
“He’s had a stick up his ass for the past hour,” Red reassured me and patted my shoulder over the bar. “You look hot sauce, seriously. And I’m putting you on the schedule for next week. It’s official. Things are smoother with you helping wait tables and bartending when needed.”
I stared at Cole’s back as my stomach flip-flopped, stressing from all the thoughts in my head. Could I work here knowing that I might just be wanting his attention, and he probably wasn’t willing to give it. I needed to check my emotions and remind myself that he was the manager of Heathen’s Bar.
Still, the money was amazing. That’s what mattered most and I was getting my vigor for life back.
Plus, every corner of this bar was lined with hot guys willing to give out attention if I wanted it.
So, I got to work.
I flirted and smiled and winked. I poured cocktails and shots and beer.
By the end of the night, my white shirt was practically see-through. It clung to my body from the effort of how quickly we were working. We only had ourselves to blame. With a splash of something here and there, along with our sweaty bodies brushing against one another, we were all in it together.
Drake had even taken his freaking shirt off at one point, the sweat dripping over his tattoos. The girls at the bar about climbed over to do body shots off him.
“I should be charging double for this,” he grumbled at the register.
As I brought a credit card over to swipe, I soothed whatever battle his mind was working up. “Charge what you want. If you enjoy it, then that’s enough, right?”
Drake stared at me for a couple seconds longer than I expected him to. He worked through something—as I found most of the Heathens were prone to—then he smiled big, his white teeth taking over his face in genuine happiness. “I’d enjoy it more if it were you and Red taking body shots of me.” He yanked at a piece of my hair and then messed it up like a big brother would.