She unlocked the door and pushed it open, leading me through to the wall on the far left with a bunch of cubbies built in. “You can put your stuff there,” she said, pointing to an empty cubby that had a piece of paper with my name on it taped to the bottom. “Everyone here is pretty good about not messing with other people’s stuff, so you don’t have to worry about stashing your things, but just to be on the safe side, it’s smart to leave cash and credit cards at home.”
“Thanks for the heads up. I’ll do that.”
She moved to the battered desk and pulled one of the drawers open. “New hire packet,” she announced, holding up a sheaf of papers before heading back my way. “You can fill these out when you get home and bring it back on your next shift.” I took the packet and stashed it and my purse in my cubby while Shane pulled an apron from a tiny closet and extended it to me, continuing to give me the lay of the land as I tied my apron in place. “The bar’s split into two sections right down the middle. You’re on section two tonight, but if you start getting overwhelmed, just let me know and I’ll try my best to give you a hand. The pool tables tend to get really crowded, so we’re both in charge of those and’ll split the tips from there at the end of the night. Just keep an eye out and check in with them every once in a while, and I’ll do the same.”
The instructions continued as we headed back to the bar where she gave me my float, the cash I was responsible for keeping track of in my apron so I could make change for customers. Then I was handed an order pad, pen, and tray and sent on my way.
It took ten minutes for my nerves to finally loosen their death grip, but once they did, I got into the swing of things easily enough. I kept a smile pinned on my face the whole time I worked, and, while it was a bit of a struggle, I made sure to maintain eye contact with everyone I waited on. A couple of the guys flirted harmlessly while other customers cracked jokes, and as the minutes ticked by, I’d discovered everything I’d told Darla was the truth. Waitressing was like riding a bike for me, and I’d picked it right back up like it was nothing, rushing back and forth, filling drink orders and hustling food to keep the people at my tables happy.
As evening turned into night, the crowd continued to grow, and Shane and I were right in the thick of it. My smile eventually began to feel normal, and I found that being around these people was easier than I’d expected. For the most part, everyone was friendly and welcoming to the new girl on staff.
I’d just headed back to the bar to deposit a load of empty glasses and fill another order when the door opened. Instinct had me turning in that direction to see where the latest customer would sit, but the moment I set my eyes on the man who’d just entered, everything around me seemed to slow to a stop.
Bikers had been filtering in and out of Bad Alibi all night long, but there was something different about this one, something that drew my attention to him and refused to let it go.
The guy was big in a way that I just knew, even at five foot seven, I’d feel small if I were standing next to him. A soft-looking navy T-shirt covered wide shoulders that led to a thick chest that traveled down to a trim waist, and denim that could only be that expertly faded after a million washes encased bulky thighs. On his feet were a pair of worn, dusty motorcycle boots—what I’d come to discover was the standard footwear for men in Redemption, Tennessee—and as he walked, the overhead lights glinted off the chain that hung from his belt loop to his back pocket. His darkish blond hair was cropped short at the sides and back, but left longer on top, styled in an attractive disarray, and he had at least two-week’s worth of growth on his jaw that was a couple shades darker than his hair. But what drew my attention most was the black ink on his large biceps and carved forearms. It started beneath the sleeves of his tee and went all the way down to his wrists, covering nearly every inch of available skin.
From this distance, I couldn’t make out any of the patterns or shapes in the tattoos, but that didn’t make them any less eye-catching.
As though feeling my intense perusal of all that was him, the man turned in my direction, and I sucked in a sharp gasp the moment our eyes collided.
Stop staring, you moron, a small voice inside my head screamed, but for some insane reason, my body wouldn’t cooperate. I was frozen stiff, even my eyeballs refused to budge.
One corner of his mouth quirked up in a knowing smirk, having caught me, and I felt a sensation shoot through me that I hadn’t experienced in a very long time. My insides tingled like my blood had gone electric, and the dip in my belly had nothing to do with anxiety this time.
As he continued through the bar toward the section with the pool tables, my traitorous gaze tracked him the entire way. I watched as he closed in on a large group of men, passing out fist bumps and back slaps. I continued watching as a woman in a skintight cami and jean shorts so short you could see the bottoms of her butt cheeks threw herself against him and wrapped her arms around his neck. I watched as he looked down at her with a grin that just screamed sex as he muttered something that made her giggle, all the while his hands were coasting down her back and coming to rest on her behind, giving it a long, hard squeeze.
The way my body was behaving and the crazy reaction I had just from looking at this guy shook me to my core. Warning bells started going off in my head, but I just couldn’t make myself look away.
I’d been so transfixed by that man I hadn’t realized Buck was trying to get my attention until his hand appeared in front of my face, and the snap of his fingers pulled me from my daze.
Jerking around to face him, I met his concerned gaze head on. “Sorry. What?”
“You okay?” he asked, studying me closely. “You’ve gone a little pale there, sweetheart.”
“Oh, uh . . .” I cleared my throat, trying to give myself enough time to formulate a convincing lie. “Yeah, I’m good. I think I’m just a little tired. I guess being on my feet for so long will take some getting used to.”
He didn’t look convinced, but thankfully let it go. “All right. If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure,” I answered with a grin I hoped would pacify him, and luckily it worked.
I grabbed the tray he’d loaded and headed back to the floor to serve drinks, glancing briefly toward the pool tables to see the guy now sitting in a chair with that same bleached blonde woman resting on his lap.
My smile was a bit wobbly as I took care of my tables, and I couldn’t seem to shake off the discomfiture I’d been feeling since the stranger walked in.
I silently sent up a prayer that Shane would be able to head over to take the man’s order, but when I looked and saw she was slammed with her section, I knew I was out of luck. I was going to have to go over there and do it myself. Just looking at him from a distance had been enough to throw me completely off balance. My gut was telling me that getting up close was a very bad idea.
Shaking off my unease, I tucked my tray beneath my arm and moved across the floor, climbing the two steps that would take me up to the pool tables on shaky legs.
Careful not to focus on the man, I looked around at a few of the guys I’d already served throughout my shift. “Hey guys, how are we doing over here?”
“Just fine, sweetheart, thanks,” a man who’d introduced himself earlier as Scooter answered, giving me a warm smile. From the looks of him, he was well into his fifties or sixties, and from the deep lines carved around his eyes, it looked like he spent most of his time laughing, something I knew for a fact since I’d heard it several time already.