11. Carlee
Chapter 11
Carlee
“Hottie alert at twelve o’clock,” Mandy, my coworker, says as she passes behind me with a tray full of clean glasses in her arms.
Lifting my eyes, I glance toward the entry of the bar. The moment my gaze locks onto the said hottie, my stomach flips. Grayson. What’s he doing here, and how did he find out where I work? I mean I don’t really care, it’s not like it’s a secret. I’m just surprised. It’s been four days since I last saw him because I’ve worked every night this week. We’ve messaged though.
I’m trying hard not to get attached, but he’s making it difficult. Good looks aside, he’s a sweet guy. Yesterday he even had a bouquet of Hershey’s Kisses delivered to my apartment. Each one was individually wrapped in red foil, which made them look like roses. Nobody has ever sent me flowers before, well technically they were chocolates, which is even better in my eyes. He has this wooing thing down pat.
I’ve missed him, but the break has done me good. I needed some space to collect myself after my revelation about my past. I’m not even sure why I opened up to him about my mom. He’s the first person I’ve ever been so upfront with. I usually skirt around the gory details, nobody wants to hear that stuff, but for some reason, the words just tumbled out of me. The next thing I knew I was holding out my arm, like some attention-seeking wannabe, offering up more of my secrets.
When he turned his back, I held my breath. I was sure he was going to run. But when he turned around and folded me in his arms, promising to keep me safe, I think I fell a tiny bit in love with him. It was in no way the reaction I’d expected.
“Sunshine,” he says, smiling as he struts toward the bar. This man has swagger in spades.
He comes to a stop in front of me and just stares for a moment. I use this time to do the same. It’s only been a few days, but I swear he’s gotten even sexier. There’s a sparkle in his eyes like he’s genuinely happy to see me. I’m not used to people looking at me like that and it’s strangely affecting.
Is it a look he reserves just for me, or part of his overall charm? Either way, it makes me all swoony.
“Hey, handsome,” I reply, returning his smile. What I want to do is leap across the bar and climb him like a tree, but thankfully I manage to rein in my crazy. “What brings you here?”
He is here to see me, right?
I have a mini panic attack when that thought enters my mind, but then he answers, “I’ve been missing my favorite girl,” and a calmness settles over me.
The butterflies in my stomach take flight, but hopefully, on the outside, I manage to keep my cool. I’m not a gushy kind of girl, but this man makes me feel things the others before him didn’t. I wonder how many girls he has. It’s not like we’re exclusive or anything, but the thought of him lavishing his attention on someone else doesn’t sit well with me at all. I push those thoughts aside. I’m the one that wanted no strings, so I have no right to expect anything more from him.
“Can I get you something to drink, or did you just drop in to say hello?”
“What time do you get off?”
“Not until two, I’m afraid. I’m on close tonight.”
“Ah, okay. Would you mind if I hung around for a bit then?”
“Not at all.” There are a couple of people waiting to be served, and as much as I’d like to spend the rest of my shift entertaining him, I can’t. “What can I get you?”
“A kiss wouldn’t go astray,” he says, eyeing my mouth, “but if that’s off the table then a beer would be great.”
“A beer it is then, but I’ll give you a rain check on the kiss.” I give him a cheeky wink as I say it.
I pop the top off the bottle and place it in front of him. “I’ve got to serve the others,” I say, gesturing in their direction with my thumb.
“All good, babe. I’m happy just to sit here and observe.” He picks up his beer and points toward the TV screen behind me with the neck of the bottle. “There’s also a game on. I don’t want to get in your way, I only came here because I wanted to see you.”
His words have me grinning. “Are you hungry? I can get the kitchen to send out some wings, they’re pretty good.”
He nods and brings the bottle to his mouth. My eyes are glued to his throat as he swallows. He even drinks sexy. “That would be great.”
Weeknights aren’t as busy as the weekends, but we do get a bit of a crowd on Thursday evenings when there’s a game on. I’m not a huge fan of football, but what’s not to love about watching a bunch of guys in tight pants roughing each other up?
I head down to the other end of the bar, and although Grayson said he’d watch the game while I worked, I can feel his eyes on me. I try not to let it distract me from doing my job. I have guys that come in here and ask me out all the time, but I love it here, so I’d never mixed business with pleasure. I may occasionally flirt back because it gets me bigger tips, but that’s as far as I let it go. I don’t need any drama in my workplace.
“Spill,” Mandy says, coming up behind me. “Who is that delicious man?”
“Just a friend,” I reply. I like Mandy, but I don’t get too cozy with the staff either. I manage this place, therefore I’m technically their boss. Lines get blurred once things become personal, and I don’t have time for that bullshit. I just want to do my job well and go home at the end of the day.
“Just a friend? I don’t believe that for a second. I saw the way you two looked at each other.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Bitch, come on,” she says. “Are you tapping that hottie or what?” She leans over the bar and eyes him from head to toe. “Damn, he’s fine.”
“Don’t you have work to do?”
She pokes out her tongue as she picks up a cloth and starts to wipe down the counter. “You’re no fun. Does he have any hot friends at least?”
“I’m plenty fun, and no, his friend is a douche. Can you go to the kitchen and put in an order of wings?”
“Fine,” she says, sighing. “Just how douchey is this friend of his?” I give her the stink eye. “What about a brother?”
“Go. ”
“Okay, okay, I’m going,” she grumbles, turning away in a huff.
The night goes fast… I head back to Grayson every chance I get. I feel bad that I can’t spend more time with him, but he seems happy enough just sitting there. He occasionally chats with the guy beside him about the game. He doesn’t fit in in a place like this, but I love how friendly and easygoing he is.
“Dude, look at that man. Seriously, look at him,” Mandy says, coming up behind me, again. She’s starting to get on my nerves. “You need to lock this one down, girlfriend; he’s got every woman in this room throwing their vaginas in his direction.” I tilt back my head and laugh. “It’s true.”
My gaze darts around, and I don’t like what I see. Most of the women here tonight are eye-fucking him. Even some with their significant others sitting right beside them. I get it, I really do, that kind of hotness doesn’t come around often, but their ogling still gets under my skin. I’m not usually the jealous type, but I’m suddenly feeling stabby.
“Hey,” Mandy says, putting her hand on my shoulder. “Don’t let it upset you. They may be gawking, but he hasn’t even noticed. He only has eyes for you. God, I wish someone would look at me that way.”
“What way?”
“Like he’ll die if he didn’t.”
My attention flicks to Grayson, and Mandy’s right, he’s oblivious to the attention he’s getting because his focus is solely on me. The beautiful smile he gives me when our eyes meet sends warmth coursing throughout my body. I drop my gaze; I’m in a whole heap of trouble with this one and I need to rein myself back in. Things are moving way too fast.
Brad, one of our regulars, approaches the bar, so I head toward him. “Another beer?” I ask.
“The guys and I want to do a round of shots,” he slurs, swaying on his feet.
“You sure about that?” He’s already half-tanked. “Don’t you have work tomorrow?”
Brad places his forearm on the bar, leaning forward. “I’m a big boy, I can handle myself, darlin’.”
“Okay.” I reach for the tequila, lining up four shot glasses. “It’s your funeral.”
I place the bottle back on the shelf when I’m done and lift the drinks onto a tray. I’m not confident he’ll be able to get them back to the table without spilling them.
“You want me to carry this over for you?”
“What I want,” he says, leaning a little closer and fingering one of my curls, “is your phone number.”
“You’re persistent, but unfortunately it’s going to be the same answer I’ve given you the last hundred times you’ve asked.”
“Damn,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m gonna wear you down sooner or later, beautiful.”
I crack a smile because there’s no chance of that ever happening. Brad’s a nice-looking guy, but he’s in here more nights than he’s not. He also leaves shit-faced. He’s not a mean drunk like my mom was, but I’d still never consider getting into any type of relationship with a man like that.
“The answer will still be no. ”
“Ah come on, Carlee, give a man—” He doesn’t get to finish what he’s saying because Grayson grabs a hold of his collar, dragging him away from the bar.
“I believe the lady said no.”
Brad is so drunk when Grayson lets him go, he stumbles forward, falling to his knees.
“What the hell?” I screech. All eyes in the bar swing in our direction.
“Oh shit,” I hear Mandy say as she dashes past me toward the kitchen. Dave, our cook, is the only male working tonight, and I know she’s going to alert him that there’s trouble brewing. I hope this doesn’t come back to bite me on the ass.
Grayson’s shoulders rise and fall with fury as he stares down at Brad. The last thing I want is for this to turn into a fight. He should’ve butted out, I had it under control.
He takes a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself. One of Brad’s friends comes over, helping him to his feet. I swiftly move around to the other side of the bar, ready to intervene if things escalate.
“You want to tell me what the fuck that was, Grayson?” I question the moment I’m standing in front of him.
His angry eyes move from Brad to me, but they soften the moment they skim over my face. He runs his fingers through his hair, blowing out an exasperated breath.
“He had no right to put his hands on what’s mine,” he answers in a relatively calm voice, but I know he’s anything but.
“Yours?” I seethe.
“Yes, mine.” He takes a step closer, getting up in my face. The hurt I see in his eyes is almost my undoing. “You’re my girl, Carlee and nobody has the right to touch you. ”
The nerve of this guy. I’m not some type of property he can lay claim to. I’ve known him what? Six days. We spent two nights together, granted we bumped uglies multiple times, and it was insanely hot, but I’d hardly call that a serious relationship.
The next words out of my mouth are automatic, but a part of me wants to take them back the moment they’re spoken.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” I say poking his chest. “I’m not your girl, Grayson Edwards.”
He’s not the first man to pull a stunt like this, and he probably won’t be the last. But I’m my own person, and nobody has the right to force their insecure bullshit onto me. I spent my entire childhood being submissive, but I’m not that naive little girl anymore.
Throwing his head back in frustration, he tugs at the longer strands of his hair. “You’re my fucking girl,” he states matter-of-factly. “ You are! ” Before I get to say anything else, he’s turning and stalking toward the exit.
Everything in me wants to call him back… to tell him I want to be his girl, more than anything I want that, but we were doomed from the very start. I’m just saving us both a shitload of hurt by keeping things casual.
We’re too different.
I’m damaged goods .
I’m like a shiny new toy to him right now, but the fun will eventually wear off, it always does. He’ll soon see the ugly, fucked-up part of me, and it’s not pretty. I wish that wasn’t the case, but sadly it is.
I’m not the kind of girl you take home to meet your family.
I’m a good time, nothing more.
I’m my mother’s daughter .