4. Skye
“Can you go to the stockroom and count how many bottles are left in the box of whiskey that Rogue special ordered?”
Tony’s been counting beer bottles for the last hour while I scrub down the tables and mop. So far, all I’ve done today is clean, but I’ll take that over counting any day of the week.
“Sure.” I lift the bar flap and head to the back where the liquor is stored. I glance up and down the shelves until I spot the box that Tony’s looking for.
Fuck! It just had to be on the top shelf.
Being five foot five usually isn’t a problem because I can stand on my toes to reach most anything. A box filled with liquor, though, is a different can of worms. Grabbing the three-foot ladder, I place it next to the shelf before stepping onto the bottom rung. I reach up, but I’m still too short and can only skim the box with my fingertips. Taking a deep breath, I climb to the highest step and rise onto my tiptoes. Stretching my arms, I pull the box toward my body.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
I shriek and stumble backward, but before I can land on my ass, a pair of strong arms catch me. Too bad the same can’t be said for the box of whiskey that crashes to the ground.
I take a deep breath to help steady my heart rate and push away from the hard body I’m being held against. I bend over to open the lid, praying that all the bottles haven’t been destroyed. When I notice the liquor seeping out from under the box, my chest deflates.
This is going to cost my entire paycheck to replace. Wait… This isn’t my fault. I wouldn’t have dropped the damn box if someone hadn’t scared me.
Suddenly outraged, I spin on my heel. “Who the he—” I choke back my words immediately.
Rogue crosses his arms over his muscular chest. “You okay?”
Unable to form a sentence, I stare into deep brown orbs. “I, um… what’re…I mean… what?”
Rogue’s lips curve. “You okay?”
I take a deep breath to calm myself before trying to respond again. “Yeah, I’m good. You scared the shit out of me.”
“You never answered my question,” he says pointedly.
“Yeah, I did,” I argue. “I said I was fine.”
“No, I asked you what the fuck you think you’re doing?”
“Excuse me?” I ask incredulously.
“Skye.” He looks up at the ceiling, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I come around the corner to find you standing on your tiptoes on the top step of the ladder, trying to pull down a full box of whiskey bottles.”
“Exactly.” I put my hands on my hips. “I’m doing my job.”
“We’ve had this discussion.”
Oh fuck…
“Not my first rodeo.” I cross my arms, not wanting to back down. “I’ve done this a million times.”
“Tony!” Rogue bellows over his shoulder before focusing his attention back on me. “And I’ve told you that if you need something off a high shelf, have someone at least hold the ladder, or have them get it for you.”
Tony skids to a stop inside the door. “Yeah, boss?” he asks as he takes in the scene in front of him. “What the hell happened?”
“That’s what I’d like to know,” Rogue says, turning to face him. Then he points at me. “Why did I come down the hall to find Skye on the step ladder, standing on her toes and reaching for a heavy ass box of alcohol on the top shelf? Anyone on a ladder, male or female, needs to have a spotter. I don’t give a shit who you are.” He glares directly at me as if he’s waiting for me to argue. “The rules are in place for a reason. This is how fucking accidents happen. Remember when Connie fell last year and we paid out a shit-ton for worker’s comp?”
“Shit, sorry, Rogue.” Tony shakes his head. “Those boxes were on the bottom shelves the other day. I had no idea someone had moved them.”
Waylon pushes his way into the room. “Jesus, what the fuck happened in here?”
My face heats with embarrassment. “I dropped the box.”
“That’s the top-shelf whiskey!” Waylon screams. “Damn it, Skye, that’s coming out of your check.”
I nod because I can’t disagree. He’s right, I dropped it. I should’ve been more careful and had Tony help me.
“No, she’s not,” Rogue growls. “I startled her, but from now on, no one uses a fucking ladder unless someone else is there to help.”
“I’m perfectly capable of grabbing a box,” I mumble.
Shut up, mouth… you’re poking a bear.
“Obviously,” Waylon says with disdain.
“Who put those on the top shelf?” Rogue looks between Tony and Waylon.
“I did,” Waylon admits. “It’s the good stuff. I didn’t want anyone mixing it up with the other whiskey.”
Rogue cracks his neck as if this conversation is getting on his last nerve. “Next time, tell your staff when you move shit around.” He points a finger at me. “You stay off the goddamn ladders unless you have help. That could’ve been more serious if I hadn’t been there to catch you.”
I bite my tongue to keep from spewing what I really want to say. Technically, it was his fault I fell because he startled me. Instead, I dip my chin.
“Yes, sir.”
I peek up through my lashes and watch Rogue’s nostrils flare. Before I can get myself into any more trouble, I grab the mop to start cleaning up my mess. Rogue turns and stomps out of the room with Waylon on his heels.
“That went well.” Tony steps beside me and grabs the broom. “Go fill up the mop bucket, and I’ll start sweeping up the glass.”
“At least some of it is salvageable.” I pull four bottles out of the box that weren’t broken during the fiasco and place them on the middle shelf. “I’ll be right back.”
I wheel the bucket to the kitchen, stopping at the drain in the back where there’s a faucet. While the bucket fills up, my mind wanders to the sexy as sin man who caught me in his arms. Rogue has that mysterious Clark Kent look with his black-framed nerd glasses, but looks can be deceiving. Under that dark gray Henley he’s wearing today is solid, rock-hard muscle.
I’d like to trace my tongue over those muscles. Whoa! Calm down… That’ll never happen. He’s the boss, totally off-limits if you want to keep your job. Oh, but what a way to go!
“Uh… Skye, you might want to turn off the water.” Raul, or RaRa, as we call him, points to the tap.
I reach out and turn the water off, but not before suds spill over the top of the pail. “Fuck!”
“Your head was definitely in the gutter,” he says as he sashays over with another mop to help me clean up yet another mess I’ve made.
My cheeks heat. “What the hell is wrong with me today?”
RaRa looks me over from head to toe before he taps his chin. “Mmh, I think someone’s having naughty thoughts,” he says with a chuckle. “Who’s the guy?”
The ground needs to open up now and swallow me whole.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that.”
My blush deepens. “I have to get this back to the storage room. Rogue scared the shit out of me, and I dropped a whole shipment of liquor.”
“Rogue, huh?” RaRa bobs his brows. “That man could make a nun sin.”
I smack him on the arm. “Stop it. It’s not like that.”
“That red face you’re sporting says otherwise.”
“Skye, where the hell are you?” Waylon bellows from the hall.
“That’s my cue.” I push the bucket through the doorway, leaving RaRa in the kitchen singing something about ‘Rogue and Skye sitting in a tree’.
Lord help me.
I duck into the stockroom as Tony is sweeping up the last of the glass.
“Got the water. If you want to get back to counting inventory, I’ll get this mopped up and then come out and finish cleaning the tables before we open.”
“Works for me.” He empties the dustpan. “Next time, come and get me. I didn’t know the box was that high. Last thing we want is a pissed-off Rogue.”
“Sorry. I thought I had it.”
And I would’ve if tall, dark, and sexy hadn’t scared the shit out of me.
Tony grunts but doesn’t say anything else as he leaves the room.
I finish mopping up the mess, but my thoughts keep straying to the feel of Rogue’s strong arms wrapped around my body. Wetting my dry lips with my tongue, I think about him kissing me senseless while his hands explore every bit of me. I squeeze my thighs together and stifle a moan.
RaRa was right, my thoughts are naughty.
Too bad they’ll only ever be a fantasy.