2. Banter Stranglehold
TWO
BANTER STRANGLEHOLD
Rylee
In one smooth motion, I slide the knife through the lime. The two pieces fall to the sides. I toss them into the condiment tray and set another lime on my cutting board and repeat the process.
“What are The Boy Scouts of America doing back there?” Nora, the newly hired bartender, asks from next to me as she fishes olives from a jar. She’s been on the job for two weeks and luckily, I haven’t had to do too much handholding, so I know she’ll fit right in.
“It’s some bachelors forever meeting. I don’t know. Jake said they could use the backroom for the next few Thursday nights.” Clamping the lid tight with a snap, I tuck away the container into the bottle cooler and grab the lemons.
“Do they call themselves bachelors because they can’t score any dates? Especially the guy on the end with the plaid collared shirt, khakis, and black rimmed glasses. I bet he sells car insurance and still lives in his mom’s basement.” She pulls her long, beach wave blonde hair back and secures it with a hair tie. “All of them except that dark haired Greek god. White button down flexing all his forearm deliciousness. What’s his story?”
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Without glancing up, I know exactly who she’s referring to. Every time he’s here, he’s the topic of conversation. “That’s Trey. I don’t know his deal. Women flock to him like he has a golden dick. But also, it’s a different woman every time, so it can’t really be that special.” I slice through a lemon.
With a loud stomp, Jake passes by us, the liquor bottles shaking on the shelves as he beelines it to the backroom where Trey and the others are hanging out. We exchange glances and shrug simultaneously.
“I won’t lie. I’d be willing to take one for the team and test it out.” She rises to her tippy toes, peering over the heads of the bar patrons for a better view of Trey.
I roll my eyes and continue slicing the lemons. “Have at it, but double protection might be necessary. Anyway, Jake said we don’t need to wait on them. If they need anything, they have to come to the bar.”
Nora turns toward me, resting her elbow on the edge of the cooler. “Have you ever hooked up with him?”
“Hell no.” I shake my head. “He’s not my type. In fact, my type and him are in completely different area codes. Not even in the same state. More like opposite ends of the country.”
“Okay. Okay. Got it.” She raises her hands up, palms out in defense. “You seem a little riled up over someone who’s not your type.”
“Guys like him are all the same. Hell, I was married to a guy exactly like him. They’re not worth your time.” Amongst many other things, like knocking you up and promising he’ll take care of you while also sticking his dick in other women, but I keep that to myself.
Our gazes anchor to Jake as he storms past us and down the hallway toward his office. This time sporting a wooden gavel in his hand.
I stab the knife into a lemon. “Anyway, the more money they have, the bigger assholes they are. Based on the designer suits he wears, he’s plenty of both.”
She twirls her blonde ponytail around her finger. “I don’t know. I think you’re judging him too harshly. What if he fosters puppies and kittens because he has so much love to give." With a hand on her waist, she pops her hip. “Wouldn't you feel like an ass for judging him so harshly?"
I bark out a laugh. “No. Plus, I highly doubt it.” Images of Trey with a gaggle of puppies and kittens pouncing all over him as he lays on the floor, shirtless, flash before me. Ugh! Of course, he's shirtless. All my daydreams of him are shirtless. Trey and his friends have been coming into the bar since before I started working here. My first impression of him was he’s hot. But it didn’t take long to see him for who he really is. A playboy. Night after night he would have a different girl on his arm. That’s when I slammed the door on anything happening outside my daydreams. A customer takes a seat at the other side of the bar, and I abandon my thoughts and the conversation with Nora.
Over the next hour, we busy ourselves with customers serving drinks and taking food orders. After everything settles down, I pour myself an ice water as a guy sits on the abandoned stool across from me. His dark hair matches the scruff along his strong jaw. His lips tip up in a sexy half-smile I wouldn’t mind waking up next to. But the most attractive thing is, he’s sporting a t-shirt and not a three-piece suit.
“What can I get you?” I ask.
His gaze drifts from my face and lingers on my chest before sliding up. “Are you an option?”
Scratch that. He just went from semi-cute to jackass in two-point-two seconds. “No.”
“Are you sure? You look a little tense. I could ease that for you.” He rests a hand on the smooth wood surface and the silver band on this left hand glints from the overhead lights.
If Jake wouldn’t fire me, I’d punch him in his smug face. According to him, it’s his bar so he does the punching. Not only is the guy in front of me a jackass, but also a cheating bastard. I rest my hand on the bar top and lean in. He does the same. I jerk my chin toward his hand before squaring my gaze with his. He snaps his hand back and hides it behind the bar.
Too slow, asshole. “So, drink or no drink?”
He clears his throat. “How about a Vodka Collins and your phone number.” He flashes me another half-smile. That must be his signature move and the only thing he can offer.
“Oh, you want my phone number?" He unlocks his phone and waits as if he believes he's charming enough that I'll give it to him. "Five. Five. Five. Go to hell.”
His head jolts up from his phone. “That’s too many numbers.”
“Fucking hell,” I mutter, pushing off the bar. Twisting around, I grab a bottle of vodka and a glass. When I’m finished with his drink, I slide it in front of him. Before I can pull my hand away, his fingers wrap around my wrist.
Red-hot rage courses through my veins as I glower at his hand on mine. Slowly, I lift my head, my glare as sharp as broken glass. “Touch me again and I’ll shove this vodka bottle down your throat… sideways.” I hold up the half-full bottle. Immediately, he releases his grip but keeps his hand on the bar.
“Is that some new, kinky foreplay?”
“I wouldn’t test her. I’ve seen her throw bigger guys out on their ass.” Out of nowhere, Trey wedges himself between the asshole and an empty stool.
He sizes Trey up and huffs out a laugh. “And what are you? Her enforcer?”
Trey shrugs. “More like a cheerleader. By the daggers she’s throwing your way, she doesn’t need my help.”
The asshole’s glare cuts to me. “You’re not worth it,” he sneers and grabs his drink before shouldering past Trey.
A cocky smile covers Trey’s face. His gaze is glued to the asshole as he disappears into the crowd. Once he's out of sight Trey turns his attention to me. “That guy's a dick.”
I hold up the bottle again, done with the bullshit. “The same offer extends to you.”
“Got it.” His smile never falters as he holds up his hands in defense.
I blow out a small breath. Trey’s not the enemy. I lower my arm, setting the bottle on the bar. “Thanks, but I had it covered.” Reaching over, I grab the empty coaster and toss it into the trash. There’s only been one time where a guy got too handsy and I needed Jake and Lach to help escort him out. Other than that, I’ve always held my own.
He rests his elbows on the bar and leans in. “But I can be your enforcer if you need.”
“I’ll pass. I know how to handle guys like him,” I snap.
“Well, if you ever—”
“Don’t. I can take care of myself. I don’t need guys like you trying to come and save the day like a knight in Armani armor.”
He tilts is head. “What’s that supposed to mean? Guys like me?” he asks, not in indignation but curiosity.
“You save a girl,” I use air quotes around the first four words, “and expect her to be wooed by your manliness and fawn all over you. Which I'm sure leads to a night between the sheets. Then, once it's over you throw her out like discarded trash.”
“So, my manliness does nothing for you?”
“Not. A. Single. Thing.”
When my gaze shifts to his, dark steely gray eyes meet mine as a slow smile spreads across his face. I've seen him flash that same smile at countless women here, but this is the first time it’s aimed at me. I understand how it could entrance them, but I have more willpower. I think.
Needing his attention off me, I nod at a table where several women gather around. “Don’t you have some girls to flirt with? There’s a bunch here, or have you already been with them all?”
Without taking his eyes off me, he shrugs his shoulders. “Nah. The only girl I want to talk to is standing in front of me.”
I shake my head, fighting hard to hold back a smile of my own. He must have an entire book full of one-liners. “Too bad I’m immune to whatever charm you think you have.”
“I’ll have you know I have more charm than one of those overpriced charm bracelets with all the dangling hearts, butterflies, and chat bubbles.”
“Chat bubbles?”
He nods viciously. “Oh, it’s a thing.”
“It sounds like you’ve been scorned by a charm bracelet.”
“Nah. Just the women who wear them.”
“I’ll be sure to wear my charm bracelet next time.”
He flinches. “That’s harsh.”
“How about a beer to cheer you up?” Mostly, I need away from him. He has me in a stranglehold with his playful banter. Never would I think I’d be bantering with Trey. He’s only good at getting women to take their clothes off. Not this.
“Deal. IPA.” He nods to the row of taps.
I reach for a pint glass. Once the golden liquid kisses the rim, I slide it across the bar top. From across the room, one of his friends yells for him, motioning him over with a wave. As he reaches for the glass, our fingers brush against each other’s. My gaze flits to his as a burst of electricity flows between us. It’s like the slow motion moment before a bolt of static electricity zaps you, catching you off guard. I yank my hand away, grab a rag, and wipe down the already clean bar. What in the fresh hell was that?
The corners of his lips twitch, telling me he felt it too. Before walking away, he turns toward me. "Just so you know, I wouldn't throw you out."
Before I can respond he pivots on his feet. Halfway to the backroom, a woman at a nearby table halts his progress. She runs her hand down his arm and shoves her chest in his face. My jaw clenches with each graze of her finger over his buttons of his dress shirt. When he flashes his dimpled smile at her, I roll my eyes and return to serving the next customer. It was nothing. Absolutely nothing.