“Hey, Ford, this is Shayne,” Chad says, taking a step back to allow room for his friend to join our close circle.
His eyes widen with shock right before they take a leisurely perusal of my body. When they finally return to my face, he seems even more confused than moments ago. “You’re Shayne? But…you’re a woman.”
I glance down at my chest, at the hint of cleavage peeking out of the fitted V-neck T-shirt I’m wearing. “Uh, yeah, I’m definitely a woman.”
Chad barks out a laugh and hits his friend on the back. “I told you that, didn’t I?”
The impossibly gorgeous man turns to my cousin and shakes his head. “No, I’d definitely remember…her.”
“Oh, well, sorry,” Chad replies with a shoulder shrug. “Come on, let’s grab those two seats at the bar.”
He takes off, but Ford doesn’t move. He’s still looking at me, those green eyes assessing and observing. It starts to make me feel a little uncomfortable under his intense scrutiny, but it’s quickly washed away when he steps forward, extends his hand, and says, “Ford Gregory.”
His hand is rough, warm, and sends sparks of lust bolting through my bloodstream. Like little zaps of electricity, they land firmly between my legs, leaving me a little achy and breathy.
What the hell?
“Shayne Danner,” I reply, allowing him to hold my hand for way longer than normal. “Female,” I add, unable to help the little dig.
He smiles perfectly white, straight teeth. Of course he does. A man this pretty wouldn’t have a stained, crooked grin. “Sorry about that. You were just a…surprise.”
I wave his comment off. “Believe it or not, you wouldn’t be the first person to be shocked by my lack of a penis.”
He barks out another laugh and shakes his head. As he opens his mouth to respond, we’re interrupted by a holler. “Yo, Ford, quit hitting on my cousin and get over here! I’ve been thinking about these wings for nine long months.”
“I guess I should…” he starts, leaving his statement hanging open.
“Yeah.” I clear my throat and turn to head back behind the bar. Only, we’re still holding hands. The realization is both startling and comforting. I didn’t even notice he still had my hand in his. I pull it out of his grip and give it a little shake, as if I could vibrate the warm sensations prickling my skin where his hand once rested away.
“I’ll j-just—” I stammer but stop immediately. I’m acting like a lunatic who hasn’t seen a gorgeous man before.
You haven’t met one who makes you all breathless and tingly before.
I force my legs to carry me away and back behind the bar and turn off the water I left running, completely ignoring Connor and his cronies as I go. I stop and grab another Michelob for a regular sitting at the bar, taking the three dollars out of his stack of cash in front of him. Then, I make my way to where Chad and Ford sit. “What can I get ya?” I ask, tossing two coasters in front of them.
“Miller Lite,” Chad states.
When I look at his friend, I’m again struck by the intensity of his green eyes. “Bud Light, please.”
“And grab the new guy a menu too, Shay,” Chad adds with a side glance at Ford, as I reach down to grab two beers from the cooler.
I pop the tops off the bottles and set them on the coasters before wiping off my hands and grabbing a menu. And by menu, I mean a laminated index card with the hamburger and wing selection.
“Thank you,” he replies politely, taking the offered card and glancing at it. He flips it over, surprised when the back side is blank.
“You either order a hamburger, which no one gets, or wings. I recommend the parmesan garlic,” I suggest, leaning against the cooler with my hip.
He sets the card down and nods. “Then that’s what I’ll get.”
I take their orders to the kitchen and deliver a few more plates to a nearby table. As I’m walking back to the bar, I jump as a hand slaps my ass. Hard. I ignore the stinging on my cheek and whip around, ready to throw punches with whoever just touched my ass. Only, when I turn around, I’m not in the least bit surprised by the smirking features I come face-to-face with.
“What’s wrong, sweet thang?” Connor asks innocently, his words slurred from the alcohol he’s been consuming for the better part of two hours.
“What’s wrong? Don’t touch me, Jorgeson. Ever,” I seethe through gritted teeth.
Movement catches out of the corner of my eye, and I already know it’s Jet approaching. He has a keen eye for trouble, especially where I—or any other bartender—is concerned. But before Jet can make it up to the bar, a large figure slides stealthily between myself and the jackass. I have to look up—way up—until I see the back of his head. It’s not Chad, his big egg-shaped noggin I’d recognize anywhere.
“Did you put your hands on the lady without her permission?”
I recognize the voice instantly. It’s Ford, and he’s in Connor’s face.
“Hey, Green Giant, I didn’t mean no harm, friend,” Connor replies with a drunken laugh.
I step to the side just as Ford steps forward, his nose practically touching Connor’s. “Touch her again and lose your hand forever, friend,” Ford growls, his eyes narrowed into little slits. I’m only beside them, but I can still feel the anger, the authority, and the threat oozing off my cousin’s friend.
Connor seems to sober up a little and squints up at Ford. “Yeah? You gonna do something about it?”
“Put your hands on her one more time and see what fucking happens,” Ford snarls.
“All right, settle down,” Jet states, pushing his own big body between the two going toe- to-toe. “Connor, I think you’ve had enough to drink. Maybe it’s time to call it a night.”
“What? Me? He just walked in here and started threatening me, Jet!” Connor whines, his glassy eyes pleading at my boss.
“He only stood up because Connor slapped my ass again,” I argue, immediately coming to Ford’s defense.
“Again?” Ford asks, those wide, green orbs locked on mine. I see the mix of fury and disdain flash within them.
I shrug, placing my hand on his forearm. It tenses under my touch, but his entire body seems to relax instantly. “Yeah, well, I work in a bar. Sometimes, the assholes get a little handsy.”
His jaw ticks. “Unacceptable, Shayne. No one should touch you without your permission.”
I smile at his insistence. “Thank you, and I do agree. All I’m saying is sometimes the alcohol causes them to do something they shouldn’t. I can usually handle them, though. Or Jet,” I reply, nodding at the man leading Connor and his posse toward the front door. “He’s the owner. He’d never let anything happen to me.”
Ford seems to relax even more and walks beside me back to his barstool. Chad is there, standing and watching the entire scene.
“Thanks for coming to my rescue,” I tease my cousin.
He snorts. “Are you kidding? I barely knew what was happening before G.I. Joe jumped up and was over there. I knew you were in the most capable hands ever, so I wasn’t too worried,” he replies as he takes his seat.
Capable hands.