Chapter 14
CREW
“Low on Kettle One.”
“On it, boss,” Troy says, closing the Dutch door to the bar as he takes off toward the liquor storage.
Boone is a madhouse tonight. Packed house with crowds here for all different occasions. We’ve got MMA fights on the big screen and hockey playoffs streaming from all the others, even a bachelorette party in the rental room out back.
No complaints here because all of this chaos means money in my pocket.
Fuck. I needed this. To put my foot back into my business and be reminded of everything I have outside of baseball. The commotion is the physical reminder of Boone’s success.
Maybe I could retire and do this. Not every night, of course; I’ve got employees for that. But running Boone from a close distance and getting more time with Addie sounds pretty damn great from where I’m standing.
Not to mention, it’s much easier on my arm.
It’s me and a barback, Mitch, handling the crowd until Troy gets back, when a group of women storms through the entrance doors en route to the bar. I recognize them almost instantly, wondering how in the hell they seem to know the days I’m here.
“Oh, Crew,” the tall blonde one coos, sliding onto the stool directly in front of me. “Where have you been? We’ve been here every Saturday and haven’t seen you in ages. It’s about time you showed that handsome face of yours.”
Her boobs are so far out they can be seen from space. I’m not sure she realizes I’ve got no interest in looking, my eyes everywhere but her chest. “I stay busy,” I tell her nonchalantly. “What can I get started for you, ladies?”
“I’ll take a vodka soda,” the short redhead speaks up with a raised hand, followed by another woman beside her, “Make that two, please.”
“You got it.”
There are times when I question whether putting myself in a public place while also being highly known in the public eye is a good idea.
There have been a handful of times I’ve had to call 911—and by that, I mean Gus or really anyone who will answer—to come rescue me.
Hell, we’ve all done it for each other a time or two.
It’s different at Boone. I’m here to make the customer happy. On the field, I don’t give a shit how happy anyone is about my performance besides myself. I play for me. For Addie. And for all the other young bucks dreaming of making it big someday.
That’s what matters.
It’s not like that at the restaurant. Quite the opposite, actually. Like now, for instance, the whispers and flirty stares mean one thing and one thing only. They know who I am, or in this case, what I do, and they want a piece of it.
A piece of me.
I should be flattered. But I’m not.
“Got to see you hit a pretty incredible homer last game, Crew. Impressive,” the blonde woman with a headband on giggles, over-enunciating her words.
I nod, rushing to finish up their drinks. “Thanks.”
Placing the finished glasses in front of them, my eyes scan the rest of the bar, searching for a waiting patron to give me an excuse to bail on mindless small talk.
I don’t want to hear about how well I played. Watch the game, support me and my boys, but don’t use it to get me to sleep with you.
Shit ain’t cute. And I’m too old for games.
My eyes scan through preoccupied couples and men simply here to watch the fights or the game. But just as Troy rejoins the bar, I’m about to call it a night when a familiar voice catches my ear.
Also sets my heart rate into a frenzy, but I won’t mention that.
“I’ve got to say, I never would have guessed that.” It’s her.
Now that I know Juniper is near, I can’t help but appear in her space however I can. This must be her date. Yeah. It has to be. No one shows up to Boone looking like every man’s fantasy without the intention of winning over a heart.
Why does my chest feel tight?
She’s in all black—no shock there. I can’t see everything since she’s sitting, but I can easily follow the fabric of her top that wraps around her neck. Her jaw and neck look dangerously slender and sharp against the tightness of her ponytail. It’s sexy when it shouldn’t be.
She shouldn’t be sexy to me. She should wear scrubs all day, every day, and never anything different. For my sake, purely.
Dr. Wilde came to play, and I just might have forgotten the rules.
I’m on my feet, planting myself directly in front of her and her date, whom I have yet to acknowledge both physically and mentally. Maybe if I pretend not to see him, he’ll somehow disappear.
Jesus, my mind is fucked right now.
“Crew. Oh, hey,” Juniper greets me, perking up in her seat against the wooden bar. I know what’s coming; her body language is issuing me a warning of the introduction to follow. But not so fast, pretty doctor. I’ll take it from here.
“Dr. Wilde.” I grin wide. “New top?”
Her eyes reach new heights, and I know I sound foolish. My mouth has a mind of its own at this point. She looks down and says cautiously, “It’s a jumpsuit.”
My brows furrow without a genuine clue what that is. “Well, whatever it is, it’s nice.”
I think I’ve stunned her.
Before she can respond, I finally decide to acknowledge the lucky, but also not-so-lucky man beside her. Lucky because, well, he gets to spend it with Juniper. And not so lucky because he also gets to look at my face all night. Not a chance I’m leaving here until they do.
He’s not horrible. Definitely not athletic. But not weak, either. Looks smart with Clark Kent-style glasses. Honestly, he resembles someone I’d probably pair her with myself.
I shouldn’t be pairing Juniper Wilde with anyone. Not a stranger. Not a friend. And definitely not me. But here I am, ready to compete. “Crew,” I greet him with very little effort. “What can I get you?”
“Vance. And I’ll take a strawberry daiquiri. Thanks.”
I can’t help it, but with two hands on the bar, I don’t look away. I can’t. Not when the dude’s name is fucking Vance. What mother sees her child for the first time after birth and says, “Hmm. I think I’ll name him Vance?”
Sounds like an *NSYNC knock-off.
A smirk tugs at my lips before my sights swing back to Juniper. “You look beautiful tonight.” I’m off to get their drinks before she can question me on it, giving myself time to figure out where I go from here.
I’ve already maneuvered my way into their conversation. Now, how do I find my way out?