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“And you?” Violet still hasn’t said anything that indicates she recognizes me, but I think it would be impossible if she didn’t. It’s not like I’ve changed much except letting my hair grow out a little. It used to be clean cut in high school and the year after, when I was sticking my head under greasy cars all day. Now, my dark hair hangs around my face like Keanu Reeves but without the beard.
“I own The Rusty Oak,” I respond, trying to keep the immense pride out of my voice. The last thing I need is for her to think I’m some sort of presumptuous prick. I might be presumptuous, but I’m not a prick. And I am almost desperate to start touching Violet.
“Own?” Violet asks, and she glances around the place again like she hasn’t really seen it until now. “You’ve done well for yourself.” She bites her lip and looks me up and down. I feel my body tingle under her inspection, and I know then that she knows exactly who I am.
“I wasn’t going to work on cars for the rest of my life when I could get paid to get people drunk.”
Violet laughs. “When you say it like that…”
A customer calls me from across the bar, and I take a step back from Violet, reluctant to leave our conversation. But no matter how intriguing it is, I have responsibilities around the bar.
I tend to a few customers, entering into my usual routine where I scan the bar, send a cocktail waitress to a certain table, and check on the production of our small food offerings.
It takes me a good fifteen minutes to get everything back on track before I’m able to return to Violet.
Her glass is empty, and she’s drilling me with her green-eyed stare. As I approach her, she bites her bottom lip, and I feel that same tingle as before working its way through me.
There is something magical about her, something that has grown as she became a real woman. It’s something I can’t turn away from. My pulse quickens, and I feel as though I’m completely at her mercy.
"Another?" I ask, nodding toward her empty glass.
"Depends.” She looks down at the counter, then up through her eyelashes, her tongue playing along her lip. “Are you going to join me for one?"
I’m surprised by her boldness, her obvious flirtation, but I like it. I glance at the clock and scan the bar, trying to make sure that nothing is going to explode without me if I take a break for ten minutes.
Finally, I turn and make direct eye contact again, brushing my dark hair back from my eyes. "I don’t usually drink while I’m working, but for you, I might make an exception."
Her smile widens, and she leans forward, resting her elbows on the bar, giving me a better view of her cleavage. I feel the heat rise in my cheeks, and I’m sure she notices. It’s impossible not to look.
And when I start looking, it becomes impossible not to imagine what I could do with that cleavage. I find that one of my hands is moving in her direction, and I jerk it back, embarrassed that I’m losing control of myself.
"What's the matter, Jay? Afraid you can’t keep up with me?" she teases. I catch the challenge in her question, and I wonder if she’s referring to drinks… or something else.
"I can handle my liquor just fine," I retort. I grab a clean glass from under the counter and pour myself some bourbon along with another two fingers for Violet. I raise my glass and hold it out in her direction. "To daring women and risky decisions."
"To that," she agrees, clinking her glass against mine before taking a sip. She barely flinches at the burn of the bourbon, her eyes never leaving mine. She doesn’t question my toast, and it makes me realize that maybe I should stop questioning what’s happening here.
"So, why are you at The Rusty Oak tonight? Trying to seduce the bartender?"
She raises an eyebrow, a playful smirk on her lips. "Depends. Is it working?"
I laugh, shaking my head. "Bold move. Most people just ask for a drink."
"I’m not most people," she shoots back.
"I can see that," I reply, leaning in closer. We are only a few inches apart, and it’s hard not to feel burned by the heat between us. It would only take me leaning forward a little to be able to kiss her.
I don’t think there’s any doubt about how she would respond. But for some reason, I’m reluctant to make that move just yet.
“So how would you define your job here as owner? Taking people’s car keys when they’re over the limit?”
I laugh. I decided long ago that I can’t be responsible for people’s decisions when they’re drunk. I can only be responsible for myself.
"I’m just the guy who keeps this place running," I say, grinning. "Making sure everyone has a good time. I’m nobody’s parent."
"You're already giving me a good time, and we’ve barely gotten started.” Her gaze lingers on my lips, and I feel my dick starting to get hard. Man, this woman really has a way of controlling me.
I can’t seem to bring my eyes back up to hers as they roam her body, I’m eager to touch her. But we’re in the middle of my bar, and I’m working.
