CHAPTER TEN MRS. BUTTERWORTH, SOMEHOW STILL A SYRUP SLUT
CHAPTER TEN
MRS. BUTTERWORTH, SOMEHOW STILL A SYRUP SLUT
RHYS
“Can you make a Rusty Nail?”
Lo moved her gaze from the shelves stocked with liquor bottles to where I sat on the other side of the bar. “Do people order Rusty Nails?”
“Not once in the whole time I’ve owned Rye.”
“And how long is that?”
It was stupid as shit considering she was a fake employee, there was nothing romantic happening, and the gray in my hair paired with the lines on my face made it obvious I wasn’t anywhere near her age. But tension still bunched between my shoulders at the thought of telling her.
I did it anyway. “Feels like a century, but it’s been more like a decade and a half.”
“Wow, that’s a long time.” She softened that blow by tacking on, “Did you buy it when you were in high school?”
“Let’s go with that.”
Lo gestured to the bottles. “So if no one orders Rusty Nails, why does it matter if I can make one?”
“No one’s ordered it yet.”
“Then that’s what Google is for.”
“Fair enough.”
The curveball question was my attempt to throw her since she’d easily nailed the rest of my bartender pop quiz.
Truth be told, she would mostly be pouring drafts and opening bottles, with the occasional common mixed drink thrown in.
Unless, of course, Harlow told her about the ones she liked to concoct when she was bored.
Those always ended up being bigger sellers than I would’ve ever thought.
Putting her elbows to the bar, she leaned closer—a move that pushed her ass out, making me suddenly wish I had mirrors behind the shelves.
Or some strategically placed cameras. The view from my angle would’ve been better if she was wearing a low-cut top.
Hell, I would take one of her uptight blouses right then since it would’ve given at least a glimpse down it.
But she’d listened to me and wore jeans and an oversized hoodie that gave me no view of her tits.
It was for the best, but I was having trouble remembering why with her in my space.
When the silence stretched, she prompted, “What else you got for me?”
If that ain’t a fuckin’ loaded question…
If I was smart, I would tell her she could go.
Hell, if I was smart, I would’ve canceled the training session when we’d talked about it during her fake interview.
I’d known it would be a waste. She’d only been there for half an hour, but it was obvious she hadn’t been lying about her experience.
She could easily handle the minimal amount of work to keep her cover.
Before I could force that dismissal from my mouth, the front entrance opened. I turned on the barstool as Jury walked in, armed with a toolbox.
I should’ve realized he would be part of the MayCo team working that day.
I should’ve sent her home before that handsome fucker arrived.
He glanced over and lifted his chin at me without breaking stride. Before relief I didn’t want to examine too closely could sink in, he did a double take at the woman opposite me.
And then he rounded his path to come over.
But when he thought it was just me, I barely got a chin lift.
He didn’t even play it up like he was coming to greet me while waiting for an introduction I sure as shit wouldn’t give. He handled that himself, ignoring me as he reached his free hand across the bar. “You must be Lo.”
She took the offering with another of those damn genuine smiles. “If someone has to be, I guess it should be me.”
His mouth tipped, which was the equivalent of a grin for the brooding bastard. “Jury.”
“Judge…?” she said back slowly, her brows lowered.
“That’s my brother.”
Her confused gaze darted to me, then back again.
Feel like I’m watching a damn Abbott and Costello act.
Jury—who still had her hand in his—explained, “My name is Jury. My brother’s name is Judge.”
She tilted her head as she looked up at him. “Is there another brother named Executioner?”
“Nah. But my brother and his old lady keep saying they’re gonna name their baby Grand Jury.”
“Prestigious.”
“An outrage and a damn insult. I’m the grandest of the Juries.”
She laughed, and it was just as musical as the day before.
“We’re in the middle of training,” I ground out.
“Good, I can be the customer. I’m thirsty,” Jury said.
I’m sure you fuckin’ are.
Guessing Glitch didn’t pass on the message to steer clear of the detective.
I thought I was gonna have to forcibly remove her hand from his—and maybe forcibly remove him from the building while I was at it—when a whistle cut through the air. I turned to see Glitch standing at the far end of the room near the hallway.
“Need ya,” he called.
“I’ll keep Lo company while you’re gone,” Jury said as he finally released her hand.
“I’m not paying you to babysit,” I said.
He shrugged and gave her a bigger smile. “I’ll do it for free.”
When he tried to sit, I kicked the stool out from behind him, using more force than was necessary. It skidded across the floor before toppling with a loud clatter.
“Need you, too, regular Jury,” Glitch called, piling on to Ophelia and Judge’s joke.
Jury gave him the finger even as he spoke to Lo. “What can I say? They’d be lost without me.” He put his hand on the bar next to hers. So close, their fingers nearly touched. “I’ll be back for that drink.
Again, I should’ve sent her home. Especially if she was gonna be a distraction to Jury and Haze.
But again, I didn’t.
Standing, I reminded Jury, “We’re closed till Friday. You want a drink, come buy one then.” As I spoke, I leaned over the bar to grab one of the menus stashed behind it without looking away from the dumbass flirt.
I didn’t know Lo had moved at the same time to rest her elbows on the bar.
Not till her soft gasp right next to my ear ricocheted through my head before settling in my dick.
Whatever fight I had against getting hard disappeared when I turned my head without thinking and found her face right next to mine.
I met her wide eyes before my gaze automatically dropped to her parted lips.
She jolted away with a laugh, but not before I got a nose full of her scent.
It was almost tropical. Like fruit and cream and something more that I wanted to bury my face in. Something that hardened my dick to the point of pain.
Her voice was steady—minus a trace of residual laughter—when she said, “Sorry.”
That was it. No blush. No snark. No sign that she was affected at all. Just a sorry and a laugh.
Meanwhile, my body was reacting like I’d never been around a pussy, much less in one. It didn’t make a damn lick of sense, but I wasn’t sticking around to sort my feelings out in a unicorn diary.
Slapping the laminated menu onto the bar top, I didn’t even look at her as I ordered, “Study this. I’ll be back.”
I figured I would have to drag Jury away, but when I started across the room, he followed. I waited till we’d put enough distance between us and Lo before quietly muttering, “Take it no one filled you in?”
“About?”
“That she’s an undercover detective.”
“We went over it at our meeting on Sunday.”
“And you thought the smart thing to do with that knowledge was put yourself on her radar like you’ve got nothing to hide?”
Just the possibility that the newest bullshit could ooze out to impact those around me was enough to kill my hard-on.
Jury didn’t seem to be facing the same internal battle.
He glanced over his shoulder before smirking. “Been a while since I’ve been arrested. And she looks like she knows her way around a pair of handcuffs.”
I ignored the burn in my gut. “You get that means you’d be cuffed, not the other way around?”
Didn’t know a lot about Jury’s love life other than it was basically nonexistent.
On the rare occasion he got involved with someone, he kept it casual like I did.
’Cause also like me, he’d been burned bad, and it’d left the kind of wounds that festered till they formed a black rot where the heart should be.
But right then, I was realizing I really didn’t know a lot about his personal business. ’Cause my point didn’t make him backtrack.
He doubled down.
“I’m good with that. I’ll even kneel if she asks nicely and calls me a good boy.”
I’d been riding with Mayhem for a while, though I wasn’t patched in as an official member. I liked my solitude. I liked my rules, not other people’s. I liked my bar that took up the majority of my focus. But I also liked the camaraderie and brotherhood of the club enough to consider them family.
That said, I was on the verge of shoving all that camaraderie, brotherhood, and Jury himself through a fuckin’ wall.
And apparently, I wasn’t gonna get a break.
“You talking about Lo?” Haze asked as we entered the hallway. I’d caught enough the day before to know he was supposed to be moving the device in his hold around, but he wasn’t. It stayed stationary as he leaned to the side to see around us.
Just as fuckin’ moony-eyed as the day before.
The prospect that came to a stop next to him wasn’t much better. He held a long coil of wires he was likely supposed to be bringing to Glitch, but he was too busy eyeing the distraction across the room.
I was about to issue the warning that Glitch had clearly neglected before Haze made known what’d already been said. “I thought she was off-limits?”
“She is,” I confirmed.
“For now,” Jury tacked on. “Case can’t last forever.”
“But your hobbies can,” I said, watching my words since prospects weren’t always included in everything Court of Mayhem did. “You planning on living a double life after that?”
I figured he’d say for a night since anything more went against the strings he refused to attach.
He didn’t. “Judge has O. Hollywood has Mac. Glitch has Kat. Some women get it.”
“None of them are detectives,” I pointed out.
“Are we even sure she’s a real detective?” the prospect asked. “’Cause the only time I’ve seen a cop look like her was in a porno. Or theme night at Wicked.”
Since Wicked was a strip club, the idea of Lo working the stage in a private show threatened to raise my dick from the dead.
I pushed thoughts of soft thighs wrapped around a gleaming pole from my brain.