And there my dick goes again. What the fuck was wrong with me that I liked when this girl gave me attitude. A slow smile spread across my face. “You can always go to the bar down the block if you don’t like the treatment here.”
Poor Riley’s head bounced back and forth between us so fast, and she started to look a little pale. Her eyes had grown as big as saucers. That’s right. Fear me. Teach your little friend to do the same.
While Gia and I glared at each other, Riley stuttered an excuse to get the hell away. “Ummm…I, I…someone needs help down there.” She pointed to the other end of the bar. “I’ll see you in a little bit, Gia.”
“Great,” Gia frowned. “Now you’ve scared away the bartender, and I can’t even get a drink.”
I mumbled a few curses as I walked around behind the bar and grabbed a highball glass from under the counter. Adding ice, I poured some grenadine over it and filled the remainder of the glass with 7-Up before tossing a few maraschino cherries on the top. When I was done, I slid it across the bar to Gia. “Here you go. Your drink. One Shirley Temple.”
“I wanted something harder,” she said.
I want to give you something harder too.
Gia flashed a devilish smile and then proceeded to dangle a cherry in front of her mouth before sucking it in. Watching those full lips close around that little cherry, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked, was better foreplay than porn. It was a good thing I’d moved behind the bar to hide the growing swell in my pants.
Goddamn it. I’m horny as shit.
I needed to get laid. That was the problem. It had nothing to do with Little Miss Cherry Sucker.
Steering my eyes away to avoid watching her finish off the cherry, my gaze innocently landed on her rack. Although my thoughts were anything but innocent. For a little thing, she had great tits. Full, round, more than a mouthful. I had the strongest urge to run around the bar and chase her, to see them bounce up and down—find out if they were real. I laughed out loud at what my staff would have thought watching that shit go down.
Clearly, I was losing my mind.
“What are you laughing at?” Gia squinted.
“Nothing. Nothing at all.” I scrubbed two hands over my face and shook my head a few times to snap myself out of it. Then I made a mental note to text one of my hookups after seeing that Gia got home safely. Every summer, there were always a few who were down for a no-strings attached good time.
Based on my appearance, women made assumptions. Fucking who they thought I was, made them feel like they were saying fuck you to their rich daddies. I needed to stick to those women and keep my mind out of the gutter when it came to my new employee.
“How was the crowd tonight? Anyone give you a hard time?”
“Nothing I couldn’t handle.”
“How about the writing? Get anything done today, Shakespeare?”
Gia pulled a small notebook out of her purse that hung on the back of the chair. She flipped through a few pages. “How do you like the name Cedric for a male hero?”
I arched a brow. “Is he a heavyset black comedian?”
“No.”
“Then it’s a stupid name.”
She dug a pen out of her pocketbook and drew a slash through a word that I assumed was Cedric.
“What about Elec?”
“What the fuck is an Elec? Is he an electrician or something?”
Another slash.
“Caine?”
“Does he kill his brother Abel in the story?”
Slash.
“Marley.”
“Sing reggae?”
Slash.
“Simon?”
“Nerdy dude with glasses who gets beat up a lot?”
Gia sighed.
I swiped the book from her hands and started to read the rest of the list aloud. “Arlin. Aster. Benson.
Tile?” I lowered the book and arched a brow. “Seriously? Tile?”
She leaned over the counter and plucked the book back from my hands. “Give me that if you’re going to make fun of me. You think it’s so easy, then tell me some good names for a hero that are unique and strong.”
“Alright. Let me think.” I scratched at the scruff on my chin as if I was actually giving it some thought. Gia looked like she was seriously waiting to hear what I’d come up with. Poor innocent thing. I snapped my fingers. “Got the perfect name.”
“What?” She legit seemed excited.
“Rush. Name your character Rush.”
She tossed the book across the bar at me. “You’re a jerk.”
I laughed as I caught it. “That’s not news to you, sweetheart. How the hell did you start this book without even knowing your character’s name, anyway?”
“In the beginning he goes by a nickname. But he needs an actual name, too. Her shoulders slumped.
“I can’t even pick out the names for characters in this book. How am I supposed to write it all in the next two months?”
“You know what I think?”
“I’m afraid to ask…”
“I think you’re stressing yourself out. My mom is a painter. She never really made a living out of it, even though she’s really good. She waitressed at night to pay the bills, but painting has always been her passion. When I was a kid, she used to paint all day long with a smile on her face. Then she started to sell them for extra money at flea markets and stuff. It got to the point where she would have to produce a certain number by a set date to display them for sale, and she’d get all stressed out and wouldn’t be able to paint. You know what she would do?”
“What?”
“She’d take a few days off from painting and we’d go do fun stuff. Like go to the matinee movies—
pay for the first movie and then stay all day sneaking into other movies. Or we’d go mini golfing—
she kept two little putters and a few balls in the trunk of her car so we didn’t have to pay the rental fee.”
“Aww. Your mom sounds great.”
“She is. But that’s not the point. The point is, you need to get your nose out of your fucking book for a few days to clear your head.”
“Maybe you’re right.”
“I’m always right.”
Gia rolled her eyes. “Can I at least get a drink before I head home? A real one?”
I lifted my chin. “What do you want, pain in my ass?”
She clapped her hands together and bopped up and down in her chair.
Oh yeah. They’re fucking real.
“I’ll take a Cosmo.”
“Alright.” I reached for a martini glass. “One pussy drink coming up.”
She scrunched up her nose. “Do you have to say that?”
“What?”
“That word.”
I leaned across the bar, getting my face close to hers, then lowered my voice. “You don’t like the word pussy?”
She covered her mouth. “No. I don’t like that word. Almost as much as I don’t like the other word.”
I grinned. “Cunt? You don’t like cunt either?”
The corners of her mouth were upturned underneath her hand, even though she tried to pretend it offended her. “Yes, that. Don’t say that word either.”
“Okay.” I whipped up a batch of Cosmos and poured one into the fru-fru glass the sugary crap got served in. Sliding it half way over to her side of the bar, I waited until she reached for it and then wrapped my hand firmly around the stem. “Not so fast. There’s a fee for this drink.”
“Oh. Sorry.” She slid the twenty to my side of the bar.
I shook my head. “Nope. Your money is no good here. I have a rule. I don’t charge employees for a drink after their shift, or a meal while they’re working.”
She looked rightly confused. “But you said there was a fee.”
I grinned. “There is. You have to say pussy.”
“What? No!”
“Say it or no drink.”
“You’re insane.”
“Listen, you’re writing a romance book, aren’t you?”
“Yes. So?”
“Well what are you going to write when they start getting it on… Baby, spread those legs, I’m gonna eat your vagina? Cause I got news for you, Shakespeare, there’s only one way to inform your woman that you want a taste—and that’s spread those legs, I’m gonna eat your pussy.”