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It was simple stuff, but everybody clapped and cheered good-naturedly, and I felt a little glow of happiness that lasted right up until I glanced down toward the end of the bar. Sitting there, unsmiling and grim, his eyes darkly flashing, was none other than Michael fucking Bradley.
What the hell? I did a double take and even stumbled a little as I saw him sitting there. It had been a year and a half since I’d seen him, and I’d never thought I’d see him again and had to make sure I wasn’t imagining things. But no, there he was, and he didn’t look all that happy to see me. Tommy noticed me looking a little shaken and came over right away.
“What’s wrong? You went pale as a sheet.”
“I-I don’t know. Nothing.” But I couldn’t help a glance back down at Michael, who was still watching me with glittering eyes.
“Did Mr. Bradley say something?”
I turned around to stare at him. “You know him?”
“Well, yeah, sure. He’s one of the owners.”
I was shocked, but played it off pretty well, I thought. I shook my head. “I didn’t know. I never met any of them before or know any of their names.”
“Well, okay, like I said, that’s Michael Bradley. He’s one of the owners, and he’s a Dom, but he doesn’t come in too regularly. I think he lives here in Ft. Lauderdale now, but he hasn’t been here that long. He usually comes in midweek, on your day off. That’s probably why you haven’t seen him. He’s not dressed to play tonight. Are you sure he didn’t say anything to you? He looks a little pissed off.”
“He didn’t say a word. Why?”
He shrugged. “Some of the bosses don’t like it when we flair. That could be it. They say we’re too busy, but then others do like it, so you just never know. Maybe we should cool it for now since he’s giving us that look.”
“Fine by me. I can’t do anything while he’s glaring at me anyway. Does he really look pissed off to you?”
“Yeah, a little and it’s not like him, really. He’s usually nice, but one of the strict ones. He’s never said anything before, but... Do you want to switch sides of the bar with me? Get away from him?”
I almost said yes, but then I thought, no, why should I? I haven’t done anything wrong. “No, it’s okay. If he has something to say to me, then he can just say it.”
Tommy got called away then and I kept serving drinks, trying not to pay any attention to that end of the bar. It didn’t work for long though, and soon someone called to me.
“Hey, can I get a refill down here?”
I looked up and nodded, finished what I was doing and hurried back down to the other end of the bar. I took care of the customer and then glanced over at Michael, who was still staring steadily back at me. He was only inches away, so I decided to be the adult and be polite.
“Hello,” I said. “Nice to see you again.”
“Is it?”
I was a little surprised at what I thought was a belligerent tone. He was the one who’d decided he’d had enough of me after that one date, so why was he acting pissed off?
“The name is Cruz Martin, in case you forgot.”
“I remember,” he said softly, frowning at me, and I got a funny feeling in my chest. I rubbed at it absently and I wished I was anywhere but there at that bar.
“What are you doing here, Cruz?” Michael asked, dropping his voice low enough that only I could hear him.
Amazingly, his expression was…not angry, but tense, like he thought he might not like the answer I had. Or that’s what I imagined, anyway.
“I’m working, obviously.”
“Look Cruz, I thought I made things clear the last time we saw each other, but I guess you didn’t understand. You’re a good-looking young man, but I have no further interest in you. We played once and it was fun. Period. I never play with the same sub twice, or rarely ever, anyway. So, if you’ve come here for this job, thinking that maybe I’d notice you or that I was going to…”
I laughed out loud, stopping Michael in mid-sentence.
“What’s so damn funny?”
“You are. If you think I came here to see you again, then you have a lot of nerve. I had no idea you were one of the owners. And if I’d never seen you again, it would have been too soon for me.”
I became hyper aware of how hard my heart was thumping in my chest. This close to him, I could smell his cologne, somehow familiar after all this time. Sultry, with a hint of musk—it made my knees shaky. Seriously, was that for real? I’d always heard that expression about feeling weak in the knees, but thought it was an exaggeration. Apparently, not so much.
