4. Meri
CHAPTER 4
MERI
Everything’s great.
The bar is packed, keeping me physically busy, but mentally, I’m somewhere else. This week’s poker game was a shitshow. Not only were there two no-shows, but the Neeros made Poker so uncomfortable that he left.
Unwanted and unwarranted jealousy spikes at the image of him walking out of the warehouse with Addison on his arm. There is less than nothing between them other than friendship. Does he love her? Absolutely. But not like that.
So why the fuck does the sight of them together make me feel like this?
“Do anything fun on your day off?” Lance, the other bartender, asks when there’s a brief lull.
“Yeah, if you consider sleep fun.”
His nostrils flare, and it’s all I can do not to roll my eyes. Lance has hinted several times at the fact that he wants in my bed—not to sleep, by the way—but I’m not interested. Not only is he not my type, but he’s a coworker.
I shudder at the thought.
“I wouldn’t have let you sleep,” he says, lowering his voice an octave.
Grabbing a rag from the sink, I wring it out and start wiping down the bar. “Was it busy last night?” I ask, changing the subject.
He chuckles. “One of these days, Meri, you’re go?—”
“Don’t, Lance,” I snap, throwing the rag at his chest. “Don’t do this.”
Lifting his hands, he backs away with a grin. “Understood.”
When he disappears into the kitchen, I heave a sigh. Why is it that men think they can say anything they want to a woman, come on to them regardless of the number of times they’ve been told no?
I bend to grab the rag that fell to the floor, and when I straighten, Poker is sitting at the bar with a large grin on his face.
“If I’d have known that’s the sight that was gonna greet me, I’d have come in earlier,” he teases.
“Don’t start,” I snap, and guilt flashes in his eyes, causing my shoulders to sag. “Sorry.”
“You know I didn’t mean anything by that comment, right?”
I huff out a laugh. “Yeah, I know. You’re about the only man who can get away with talking to me like that.”
The guilt morphs to something else, something unidentifiable. “Other men talk to you like that?”
“Careful, Poker,” I taunt. “Someone might think you’re jealous.”
He scoffs at that. “Nah. Just looking out for you is all.”
Damn.
“I can take care of myself,” I remind him.
“Never said you couldn’t.”
This time, I let the eye roll happen. “Whatever. What can I get ya to drink?”
“Surprise me.”
I shake my head. “Okay.”
A minute later, I set a cocktail glass with pink booze in front of him. “What the fuck is that?”
“Cosmopolitan,” I reply, failing miserably to stifle my mirth.
“It’s pink!”
“It is.”
“What am I supposed to do with a pink drink?”
“Drink it.”
“But… I…” He shakes his head as he sputters. “I can’t drink that.”
I tilt my head. “Why not?”
“It’s pink,” he repeats.
“Afraid it’ll make your balls shrivel or something?”
“Or something,” he grumbles.
“Just try it,” I urge with a shrug. “Might even like it.”
He mumbles under his breath before lifting the glass to his nose and sniffing. “Fuck, it even smells pink.”
“Quit bein’ a baby,” I grouse.
Poker narrows his eyes at me, and with his gaze locked on mine over the rim of the glass, he pours it down his throat in one long gulp.
“Well?” I ask when he swallows and sits back. “Whaddya think?”
“It’s pink.”
I grin. “You said that already.”
“It’s not terrible,” he admits. “And if you tell anyone I said that, I’ll spank your ass.”
Heat pools between my thighs, and I rub them together to ease the ache. “Like I’d let you anywhere near my ass.”
He arches a brow. “You wo?—”
“Yo, Meri, you’ve got a delivery.”
The moment between Poker and me is ruined by Lance’s statement. I was so caught up in the flirtatious exchange that I missed him returning behind the bar.
“What?” I ask.
Lance nods to his right, and that’s when I see a man standing with a bouquet of roses in his hand.
“Are you M. Green?” the man asks.
I bristle at the use of Green as my surname. Only those who participate in my games know that name, but none of them know anything about my personal life, my real life.
“I thought your last name was Burns,” Lance comments, his forehead creased.
“Green’s my middle name,” I blurt, and Poker smothers a laugh.
“Seriously?” Lance scoffs. “Your parents must’ve hated you.”
Poker stiffens, turning his attention to the other man. “Watch it,” he snarls.
“Uh, M. Green?” the delivery guy questions.
“Yeah, um, that’s me,” I tell him, taking the bouquet he hands me.
“Have a good night,” he says before turning on his heel and walking out of the bar.
I glance from the flowers to Lance to Poker. The latter is watching me intently, like he’ll jump out of his skin if I don’t tell him who they’re from.
So not him.
I pull out the little card as I force my breathing to even out. This has to be a coincidence, right? Maybe they’re from Addison for letting her stay the other night. She heard Poker calling me Mistress Green, so she assumed that’s my actual name.
Yeah, that’s what this is.
Thank you for an entertaining evening.
-A
Relief courses through me. I was right, they’re from Addison. I make a mental note to thank her the next time she’s in here.
“Everything okay?” Poker asks when the silence stretches.
I smile at him. “Everything’s great.”