Chapter 12
Wesley
Monday afternoon, I come to work and set up the bar, cutting up the limes and basil, filling the ice, and doing all the other little things we need when the bar opens. Derek is next to me, wiping down the counters, occasionally looking at me.
I know he wants to ask about the other day when I came back down after being in Pierce’s office, all disheveled and acting weird. I couldn’t help it. I was freaking out about how I crossed a line with him, but what’s more, I was freaking out about how much I liked it. Which, of course, led to more of the same in my bedroom the day after.
Afterward, I didn’t tell Derek what had happened. I just told him everything was fine and not to worry about it. The rest of the night, I was going through the motions, careful not to lick my lips too often because I could still taste him on me. The memory of him in my mouth did some sinful things to my body that were not appropriate at the moment.
“Would you stop doing that?” I ask him when I catch him staring at me.
“Sorry, dude. Just making sure you’re okay. You’ve been all over the place recently.”
Yeah, I have. I’ve gone back and forth between being psyched at having something with Pierce and the reality that it’ll never happen.
“I’m fine. Just a bit off. I’m sure it’ll all settle down soon.”
I hope.
I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the unexpected dinner with Pierce and his mother since it happened. After dessert, Minnie and I went home, and I didn’t talk the entire time. Minnie went on and on about Margret’s tips for keeping plants alive and said she wanted to get some. I think I hummed something that gave her permission. I don’t remember.
I just couldn’t get over how nice it was. My interaction with Pierce up to that point was angry, horny, or emotional. Not… casual. It was like a Sunday dinner with family. We laughed and talked and ate. There was a bit of flirting, which can’t be helped. He just looked so good in his dark suit, glasses, and hair, not slicked back like usual but natural. Plus, he smelled good.
It made me think more about how it could be. Margaret mentioned that she comes up occasionally from Seattle to have dinner, and she even mentioned that the next time she comes up, she'd like to have dinner again with Minnie and me.
I noticed that Pierce didn’t disagree, making hope bloom a little in my stomach.
My spine shivers and I look up and see Pierce standing on the balcony, peering down at me, his eyes dark, his hair slicked back with one hand on the railing and the other in his pocket.
“Can I have a dirty martini with three olives, please?” I look at the new customer. A man in his mid-twenties, I’d say, with dark hair and dark eyes, leans against the counter, sporting a cocky grin.
“Sure thing,” I start making the drink, and the man keeps ogling at me. Looking me up and down in a way that I think he thinks is sexy, but is just a bit creepy.
After making the drink, I put down a napkin, place the glass on it, add three olives on a toothpick, and push it to him.
“There you go, sir.” He takes a sip and exhales so loud that I hear it through the pulsing music.
“Hmm, that’s quite dirty. You know how to mix your drinks, sir.”
“Thanks,” I say, trying to move on to another customer, but he keeps talking to me.
“Is this your only talent?” He winks, and I want to gag, but I don’t because we're supposed to be friendly to our customers.
“You can take your drink to one of the booths over there,” I point to the one farthest away from me.
“Aw, come on. I thought bartenders were supposed to talk to their customers. Get to know them.”
I don’t like where this is going, so I try to take another customer's order, but he gets in the way.
“Oh, come on. Don’t ignore me.”
“I’m not ignoring you,” I say, not feeling any of this bullshit. “I just need to go back to work, and you're making that very… difficult.”
“You were going to say hard, weren’t you?” The guy grins.
“No, I wasn’t. Now, will you please take your drink and leave me alone? I have to get back to work.”
“I thought the customer was always right?”
I’m about to tell this guy to fuck off when Pierce comes out of nowhere and places his hand on the customer's shoulder.
“You got your drink. Now, I think it’s time you leave the bartender alone.” Pierce’s voice is cool and calm, but if you’re paying attention, you can tell he’s upset by how his knuckles are white on the guy's shoulders.
“Who the fuck are you?” the guy slurs, clearly not on his first drink.
“I’m the manager. Now, I’m giving you one last chance. Walk away or get thrown out. It’s up to you. I think you’re just about done, anyway.”
The guy narrows his eyes and looks from Pierce to me, then back to Pierce.
“You afraid of me?” he asks Pierce.
“Not in the slightest,” Pierce says with absolution.
“Whatever,” the guy says, then pretends to walk away before turning back, his fist flying at Pierce’s face.
Before it can connect with his eye, Pierce catches the man’s fist, spins around, and pins him to the bar.
“You should’ve walked away,” Pierce hisses as the guy struggles in his grip.
“Get the fuck off me!” the guy shouts as two guards come up and take him.
Brushing his sleeves, Pierce nods to Derek and says, “Clean this up.” He points to the ground where what was left of the guy's martini lay. The glass is shattered, and the three olives are untouched.
My heart is pounding as Pierce crooks his fingers and tells me to come with him. I follow him up the stairs, and as soon as we’re both behind his office door, he grips my face and looks me in the eye.
“Are you okay?”
I’m stunned. His eyes are wide, full of both anger and fear. I place my hands on his sides and nod.
“Yes. I’m fine.”
“Your eyes,” Pierce shakes his head. “You looked so uncomfortable when he was talking to you. It pissed me off so much I wanted to punch him in his fucking face.”
“Well, I’m kind of glad you didn’t.” I pull back. “Because the move you made was much hotter.”
He chuckles as he loosens his grip on me. “I’m sorry for that.”
“No, it’s fine. You’re right. I was uncomfortable, and I was lost at what to do.”
“Don’t worry, Wesley. I got you,” Pierce says softly. “And just for the record, I was protecting you. I wasn’t jealous.”
I chuckle. ”I didn’t ask if you were.”
“I know,” he says. “But given how I’ve acted before, I just want to let you know I’m past that. I trust you.”
My brows raise. “You do?”
He shrugs. “Enough to not get jealous when another man is talking to you.”
“Okay,” I reply.
His office is quiet, minus the soft thumping of the music downstairs
“So, are you going to yell at me for talking back to a customer?” I ask with a chuckle.
“Fuck no. I’m going to do this.” Pierce stalks to me, cups the back of my neck, and crashes his lips onto mine.