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“Sit,” Gideon said, biting the word off. “Finish your coffee. And don’t ever mention Spike’s junk around me again.”
I slouched into my chair, pulling my mug closer and fiddling with the handle. I was restless, eager to move. Otherwise, I was a sitting duck and I hated that.
“Do you need anything?” Gideon offered.
I frowned.
“Like what?”
He rubbed his thumb over the lip of his mug. I followed the rhythm of his gesture, wishing I could shove that damn cup away and push my body into his hands instead.
“Girl stuff,” he replied. “Clothes, clean underwear, shit like that.”
I huffed.
“If I’m not allowed to talk about Spike’s junk, you’re not allowed to talk about tampons. It’s awkward as fuck.”
Gideon didn’t say anything more, but he raised his eyebrows expectantly.
“I’m fine,” I insisted. “God, I didn’t take you for the fretful mother hen type.”
“Just checking,” he replied coolly, unruffled by my prickliness.
I hunched over my coffee, hoping that would be the end of the conversation. Deep down, warmth nestled between my ribs knowing Gideon had been concerned enough to ask. No one had ever done that for me before.
I would definitely be doing everything in my power to fuck him senseless tonight.
***
By noon, I was successfully tending the bar on my own. Baby Doll and Hot Shot gave me a quick rundown, and within thirty minutes, I was running the show. It wasn’t complicated. The few club members who were present didn’t request anything fancy. It didn’t take a genius to figure out how to pour whiskey and pop the top off a beer bottle.
The challenge was keeping up with these bastards. They held their liquor well, and it seemed I had barely delivered one drink before they requested another. Three hours later, my feet were killing me, but the back pocket of my jeans was stuffed with tips.
Spike finally emerged from one of the rooms in the back. His unbuttoned jeans were slung low on his narrow hips, with no shirt, and a scantily-clad girl on each arm.
“It’s nice to see you’re wearing pants,” I said.
Spike slid to a stop.
“Is that disappointment I hear in your voice, baby girl?”
I breathed a faint laugh and kept busy by wiping down the bar.
“Just an observation. Gideon said you were probably going commando earlier, strutting around like you owned the place.”
“Well, air circulation is important. Every man in this room goes free-ballin’ at one time or another.” Spike stepped up to the bar and propped his elbows on the counter, leaning in. “You’re always welcome to join the party. I bet you’re a sight to see if you shed a few of those layers you’re hiding in.”
“Spike,” Gideon barked with a dark look. “Final warning.”
Spike turned around, lounging against the bar. Fuck boy oozed from every angle of his posture.
“I can’t decide if you’re a spoilsport or a cockblocker.”
“Both,” Gideon growled.
“I can fight my own battles, tough guy,” I piped up.
He accepted a cigar from Kingpin and lit it, inhaling deeply before he slowly allowed the smoke to seethe from between his lips like a dragon boiling with a belly full of fire.
