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Her eyes widen. “I can't do that.”
“Sure you can. Austin's done it before. It's easy.”
“I don't know how to mix drinks or shots.”
“Then just serve the pre-mixed drinks in the fridge and the beer on tap.”
She shakes her head.
“D.J!”
The sound of glass smashing punctuates Michael's shout.
This is not my night. I need to clean up, and I can't put off serving the thirsty crowd any longer. I may not want to leave Claire alone looking the way she does, but I don't have much choice.
“Let me know if you change your mind,” I say, reluctantly leaving her with Kane.
6
Claire
The last thing I wanted to do tonight was to stand at the bar talking to Kane, but the alternative is to go and find a seat somewhere else, and that looks near impossible in the crowded bar. Besides, then I'll be away from Dylan and I don't want him to forget about me. There's no way I will manage to get another standing spot if I move away and come back.
So far, this evening hasn't gone the way I hoped it would. But I didn't take into consideration just how busy the bar might be on a Saturday night. So, because I have nothing better to do, I pretend to listen to Kane talk about how his cricket club doesn't value him enough. Not that I can hear him too well. Everywhere I look, I see chaos. There is a line the entire way around the bar, three people deep, and everyone is starting to yell and raise their fists to attract the attention of the people working.
Dylan, who is dressed in a white, short-sleeved button-down shirt, red tie, and black suit pants, dealt with the broken glass quickly before going back to serving. He's working so fast that he's a blur behind the bar. The other guy working alongside Dylan is moving just as quickly. But the gorgeous blonde bartender looks overwhelmed and frazzled. She keeps darting longing glances towards the door like she might walk out on the guys at any tick of the clock.
After looking on for a few minutes, I can't take it anymore. I hate chaos. The part of me that grew up without organisation and structure craves order, and there is none right now. It doesn't seem to matter how quickly Dylan and the other guy serve the customers; they can't make any headway. And whensomeone swears at the new girl and she starts to cry, Dylan looks ready to yell. It is the most rattled I've ever seen him.
Despite the fact I've never worked a bar in my life and there is plenty that can go wrong if I help Dylan out, I head for the gate that will let me through to the other side of the bar. Only then do I remember that I'm not wearing underwear and that my dress is extremely short. Hopefully, assisting won't require bending over.
I've never worn anything as revealing or sexy before. This dress is one of only a few things I've bought on a whim – mainly because Kara dared me to. Tonight, it was the first outfit I laid eyes on, and I pulled it out of my wardrobe thinking it was similar in length and style to the dresses Dylan's girlfriends – if a two- or three-night stand can be called that – would wear.
The look Dylan gave me when he first saw me tonight gave my confidence a major boost, but it didn't settle my nerves about propositioning him. The only thing keeping me here is knowing I would regret it if I walked away without following through on my plan. And the sooner the crowd thins out, the quicker I can get on with my proposition.
My heart hammers in my chest as I walk through the gate. Was Dylan serious when he asked me to help him? Dylan's co-worker points to me and my nerves form a giant ball in my stomach. When Dylan looks me over from head to toe, his fists tightening and his jaw clenching, I want to turn tail and run.
“Please tell me you're wearing underwear,” he grinds out as he walks over to me.
“Let's just say I wasn't planning on reaching too far for anything tonight,” I joke awkwardly.
He runs a hand through his hair and mutters something about me trying to kill him.
So much for my fantasy of Dylan being overcome with lust when realising I went without panties tonight. He is still caughtup in the role of ‘big brother’. Will my proposition be enough to shake him out of it?
“So, ah, do you want my help or not?” I ask nervously.
He takes one look at the thirsty crowd before looking back at me.
“Don't move,” he instructs grumpily before walking away from me and through a door to my right.
I shift uncomfortably as I stand behind the bar with nothing to do, especially since the other bartenders are so busy.
Thankfully, Dylan quickly returns, carrying a megaphone. The screeching noise it makes when he turns it on silences a lot of the commotion around us.
"Listen up, everyone!"
Incredibly, the crowd falls silent.
