6. Salem
SIX
SALEM
Indy is a god among men. I’m convinced. He’s all my weaknesses wrapped up in one delicious package.
Tall? Check.
Light eyes? Check.
Built like a brick house? Check.
Thick thighs and thicker bulge? Check, check, check.
Christ on a cracker. I was so close to tasting that sexy mouth of his when Bob the Builder busted in. Now I have to pretend to be focused on boring paperwork when the man of my dreams is mere inches away from me.
He’s in deep discussion with the pretty one and the wild one. I can’t remember their names, so they’ve all got monikers in my head. The pretty one is glamorous and shares a love of feminine touches with me. The wild one looks like a regular good-looking dude, but there’s something about his energy that reads chaotic. Then there are the twins—the two guys who don’t look shit like each other but if you’re looking for one you’ll find the other. The last guy, the bear, is almost as hot as Indy, but shorter, stockier, and hairier .
Indy laughs, drawing my attention back to him. When he’s serious and unsmiling, his muscular arms straining against his t-shirt as he folds them across his chest, he’s a dream, but when he laughs? Well, twist me up and call me a tornado. Could there be anything better?
I’ve long known I have a thing for older guys. There’s just something about the bits of gray hair mixing with their natural locks, the crinkle lines etched beside their eyes when they laugh, the way they carry themselves like they’ve seen shit. But Indy takes my interest to new heights, and now I know I have a shot. I just have to play my cards right. He wants to be professional, and I get it, but I’ll prove to him I can climb him like a jungle gym and hold it together in front of customers.
“Salem?” the pretty one calls out. “What’s your last name?”
“Barlowe, with an E on the end.”
“Thanks.” He scrawls in his notebook.
When I look up again, Indy is staring at me, but he flinches at being caught and turns back to his friends. I finish my paperwork, but my thoughts quickly drift to wondering more about Indy and his friends. Have they all fucked each other? Any amicable breakups among them?
Indy drapes himself over the pretty one from behind, his hand resting on the bar. Lowen. That’s his name. I watch the interaction, looking for signs of romance or attraction. I mean, if I liked femme men I’d be all over Lowen. He’s gorgeous.
The wild one… Ridley, I think… leans on the bar from the front, his forehead nearly touching Lowen’s. They’re a physically affectionate bunch.
“All done,” I announce from the other end of the bar.
The three men look over at me, and Indy’s eyes heat. Definitely delicious. Lowen walks over, glances at my paperwork, and nods.
“Perfect. We’ll get this scanned and emailed to the payroll company today.” Looking over his shoulder at Indy, he smiles. “I think Salem is ready for training now.”
“Great.” Indy clears his throat. “Where’s the laptop?”
Lowen points at the leather messenger bag on the back counter. “Oh, before you go, let’s see what Salem thinks of our plans.” He waves me closer, spreading out a few hand-drawn blueprints. “So, we’re thinking we could keep the bar in the same place but shift the pool tables farther back so we can add on an outdoor patio. What do you think?”
I look down at the designs, nodding at it all. “I like the flow, and an outdoor space will be popular in the summer. Are you serving food?”
“Still discussing,” Ridley says. “I’d say we’re half and half.”
“There are a lot more hurdles to jump if we serve food,” Lowen says. “Plus, greasy bar food is not a vibe. If we serve food, it has to be quality, which means higher overhead to consider.”
“What do you think?” Indy asks me.
“I don’t know shit about overhead or running a business, but Willow Bay is seriously lacking in the restaurant department. What do we have? Fast food and a diner that’s seen better days.”
Lowen twists his lips, nodding as he glances off into space while Ridley grins. Indy looks deep in thought before he calls out, “Guys.”
The other three leave the area they were in—apparently looking at flooring options—and join us at the bar.
“Salem is for the restaurant idea,” Indy says.
The bear shrugs. “If the costs work out, it’s fine with me, but that kitchen in the back is nasty. It’s a full gut at this point.”
The twins look at the papers on the bar then up at me. “Do you cook?” the quieter one asks. What is his name? Jerry? No, that sounds off.
“Absolutely not, but I know a couple of guys in the city who might be looking. It’s so competitive there, they might like the opportunity to work here.”
“It’s risky,” the other twin says, “but I agree with Salem. If we can offer more than just a bar atmosphere, we have a better chance of attracting locals year-round.”
Lowen sighs dramatically, shuffling the papers together. “I’ll talk to Oakley about a quote for the kitchen.” He looks at me. “It would be helpful if you could check in with your contacts so we can at least get a feel for who’s out there. This requires me to adjust our operating budget.”
“Is it too much for you, gorgeous?” Indy says, but his tone is clearly teasing.
“Nothing is too much for me, handsome.” He winks. “Just communicating.” He brushes past me, off to find the contractor.
“If we were the same age I’d swear we were separated at birth,” I muse, watching Lowen.
Indy chuckles. “I might agree.” He grabs the laptop bag, glancing around the space filled with workers ripping out paneling and flooring. “Want to sit on the bench out front?”
“Works for me.”
I follow Indy outside, staring at his butt the whole time. The weather is nice today, sunny and breezy, and the warmth of spring is in the air. Perfect.
We sit on the old bench a few steps from the bar. It’s always been in such a weird spot, facing the street but right next to parking spaces, but I’m grateful for it today.
“It’s nice out today.”
Indy nods, glancing nervously at me before opening the folder in his hands. “Yeah. So, um, what we were thinking is we could get you started on sourcing all the shit we’re gonna need to run this place. I made a list, but if you think of more just add it. We have a proposed budget Lowen created, but it’s based on research he did, so if we need to adjust it we can.”
I take the paper, dragging my finger down the list mostly made up of different kinds of glasses. “Should I go ahead and look into restaurant supplies?”
His brow creases and then he nods. “Might as well, but maybe on a separate tab. The form is in the computer so you can make easy adjustments.”
“I can do that. What about alcohol? Do you have a vendor selected yet?”
“No. Ridley and Kit really want to have a local brew on tap too, so maybe find something made in our state?”
“Sure thing. What about monograms? Are you branding the glassware or just generic?”
“Lowen said if we brand it, people will steal it as souvenirs.”
I chuckle. “Accurate. What about a special glass for a house cocktail or something? With a name like Moby Dick , you have to play that up.”
He grins. “Just Moby’s, but yeah, I like where you’re going with it. Go ahead and get some quotes.”
“I’m all over it.” I turn so I’m facing Indy. “So… I need some tea on you guys.”
“Tea?”
“Backstory. Have any of you dated each other?”
“No. We’re all just friends.”
“Even the twins?”
His brow creases. “Huh?”
“The two who are always together. I forgot their names.”
“Bane and Jerryn, and no, just super tight friends. Why?”
I shrug. “Just noticed how close everyone is.”
“Are you jealous?” The sexy glimmer in his eyes stirs my cock again .
Damn, this man.
“I’m definitely jealous of anyone who already knows what you taste like.”
His lips part and his eyes darken, but he doesn’t move an inch. “You’re gonna be trouble, aren’t you?”
“Who, me?” I bat my eyelashes with feigned innocence. “I figured a guy like you would appreciate someone who knows exactly what they want and goes after it.”
“Yeah? Why do you figure that?”
“Just a vibe.” I scoot closer until our knees touch. “Am I wrong?”
He studies my face for a second before leaning in and draping his arm across the back of the bench. “Why don’t we get down to exactly what it is you want, Salem? A quick fuck? A picket fence? What do you want with me?”
Something about his demeanor makes it clear I have to watch what I’m about to say. I could scare him off before I even get my hooks in him. Do I play it safe or slutty?
“I’m a play it by ear kind of guy, but I’m definitely not looking for picket fences and wedding planners.”
His shoulders drop and he seems to relax a little. “So you want to fuck?”
I nod, biting my bottom lip. “I sure do, Indy.” Slutty it is.
“And what happens when whatever this is fizzles out?”
If I had even an ounce of optimism I would challenge his assumption that it will, but if my love life has taught me anything, it’s that all good things come to an end.
“Then we’ll be mature adults who can be friends and coworkers.”
Taking a chance, I slide my hand up his thigh, aware that we’re hidden behind the large construction truck and the tarp covering the bar’s front window.
“I’ll make it worth the risk. ”
“If we do this…” He glances over his shoulder before leaning so close I can feel his breath on my face. “We need some boundaries.”
“Like?”
“No messing around at work.”
I want to pout, but if these are his rules to get some of that dick, I’ll play. “Okay.”
“I don’t want to flaunt it if we’re still doing this when we hire other employees.”
“Fair.”
“If you fuck other guys, I don’t want to know.”
“Same.”
“I’m not a relationship kind of guy, okay? It’s nothing personal. No matter how awesome you might be, that’s just not who I am. Don’t expect anything else and we’ll be okay.”
Oooh, okay. I get it now. He’s afraid he’ll break my heart. “We’re on the same page.”
He blows out a breath before finally reaching out to touch my cheek. “Fuck, Salem. You are so damn pretty. I can’t stop looking at you.”
“I don’t mind your eyes on me.”
His gaze lingers on my lips as he brushes his thumb across the bottom one. “We’re doing something tonight as a group, so I won’t be around until late.”
“So call me after. I am your dirty little secret, after all.”
He huffs a laugh. “Oh please. The guys will know within thirty seconds of your arrival. Honestly? They called it the minute you walked in the door.”
“Have a type, do you?”
“Just a little.”
“Lucky me.” I close the tiny gap between us and flick my tongue out across his lips. His gasp heads straight to my dick. “See you later, Indy. ”
He nods, giving me that glazed-over look I’m becoming familiar with. Oh, the power. Standing, I straighten my t-shirt and point towards the door. “We should get back inside.”
I walk off, knowing he’ll follow soon enough. I like to leave them wanting. It’s how I keep them coming back.
Tonight, I’m gonna get my hands on fine-ass Indy. It’s a damn good day.