drink, by
the way.” He slaps the bar twice, like a pat on the back, and walks
off toward the mysterious door at the back of the room.
That’s officially the point where my night
takes a nose dive.
Strangely, what I’d thought would help
Taryn’s disposition seems only to have made her more hostile.
Unfortunately for her, my mood has plummeted, taking my patience
and tolerance with it. So for the rest of the night, I give just as
good as I get.
Even though I dread having to talk to Cash,
I’m really relieved when the night is over. Taryn and I had
graduated from thinly veiled remarks to her shoulder-bumping me as
she passed, to me purposely backing into her while she was pouring
a round of lemon drop shooters. From there, it escalated to her
pushing a drink into the floor and splashing Bailey’s all up my
legs. It made a horrendous sticky mess that took me far too long to
clean up. At that point, I figured the only logical progression
would be been hair pulling and vicious clawing as we roll around in
the floor, growling at each other. And, call me crazy, but I’m
thinking that kind of thing might be frowned upon in all places of
business that do not include a Jello pit.
That’s when I stopped antagonizing her. Now,
I’m just ready to go home.
As I’m closing up my end of the bar, I’m
thankful I remember most of what Marco showed me. The things I’m a
little fuzzy on I’m able to improvise by sneaking peeks down at
what Taryn’s doing on her end. She’s just faster at it than I am.
Obviously.
When she’s finished cleaning up her area, she
practically runs around the bar and makes for the door at the back
of the room. She doesn’t even glance in my direction, much less say
anything to me. And I could care less, really. Her attitude isn’t
the reason my stomach is in knots. My stomach is in knots because I
think I have a very good idea of who’s doing whom tonight.
For that reason, I take my sweet time
cleaning up. I’d rather die than interrupt them. In fact, I really
wish he’d just forget about my paperwork and let me go home.
I’m berating myself for giving a guy like
Cash a second thought when Taryn comes out of the room. I look up.
At first glance, she seems…bothered. But when she sees me looking
at her, she turns on her brightest smile, grabs her purse from
behind the bar and walks merrily out the front door.
I want to paper cut her. On every square inch
of her body. And then roll her in salt water.
Just the thought of that has me snickering to
myself, which is what I’m doing when Cash comes out. He’s not
adjusting his clothes or anything that obvious, but I know what
he’s been up to. And I’m furious.
“You about done?” he asks casually.
I snort. “Are you?” I could kick myself for
letting my upset show, but it sort of slips out before I can stop
it.
Cash’s brow wrinkles for just a second. “I’m
ready whenever you are. I know you need to get home.”
How convenient that you remember that now! You’re probably ready for bed. A real bed.
Gritting my teeth, I toss my rag in the
bleach and snatch my purse from beneath the bar. I refuse to rush
just because he’s finally ready. Refuse! Yes, I’ll be the one
paying for it when I’m exhausted tomorrow, but tonight passive
aggressive is all I’ve got.
He leads the way back to the carefully
concealed door at the back of the bar. As I suspected, it’s an
office. And a nicely decorated office, too. Especially considering
that it’s located in a bar.
The color palette is both soothing and
masculine with its rich creams and calming taupes. There are black
accents found throughout the room in the throw pillows on the sofa
and the lamps on the end tables. They tie in to the huge black desk
and expertly-carved cabinetry behind it.
There’s a partially open door on the back
wall. It looks as though it leads into an apartment. A very nice
and spacious one from what I can see.
With a sinking sensation, I realize he
the way.” He slaps the bar twice, like a pat on the back, and walks
off toward the mysterious door at the back of the room.
That’s officially the point where my night
takes a nose dive.
Strangely, what I’d thought would help
Taryn’s disposition seems only to have made her more hostile.
Unfortunately for her, my mood has plummeted, taking my patience
and tolerance with it. So for the rest of the night, I give just as
good as I get.
Even though I dread having to talk to Cash,
I’m really relieved when the night is over. Taryn and I had
graduated from thinly veiled remarks to her shoulder-bumping me as
she passed, to me purposely backing into her while she was pouring
a round of lemon drop shooters. From there, it escalated to her
pushing a drink into the floor and splashing Bailey’s all up my
legs. It made a horrendous sticky mess that took me far too long to
clean up. At that point, I figured the only logical progression
would be been hair pulling and vicious clawing as we roll around in
the floor, growling at each other. And, call me crazy, but I’m
thinking that kind of thing might be frowned upon in all places of
business that do not include a Jello pit.
That’s when I stopped antagonizing her. Now,
I’m just ready to go home.
As I’m closing up my end of the bar, I’m
thankful I remember most of what Marco showed me. The things I’m a
little fuzzy on I’m able to improvise by sneaking peeks down at
what Taryn’s doing on her end. She’s just faster at it than I am.
Obviously.
When she’s finished cleaning up her area, she
practically runs around the bar and makes for the door at the back
of the room. She doesn’t even glance in my direction, much less say
anything to me. And I could care less, really. Her attitude isn’t
the reason my stomach is in knots. My stomach is in knots because I
think I have a very good idea of who’s doing whom tonight.
For that reason, I take my sweet time
cleaning up. I’d rather die than interrupt them. In fact, I really
wish he’d just forget about my paperwork and let me go home.
I’m berating myself for giving a guy like
Cash a second thought when Taryn comes out of the room. I look up.
At first glance, she seems…bothered. But when she sees me looking
at her, she turns on her brightest smile, grabs her purse from
behind the bar and walks merrily out the front door.
I want to paper cut her. On every square inch
of her body. And then roll her in salt water.
Just the thought of that has me snickering to
myself, which is what I’m doing when Cash comes out. He’s not
adjusting his clothes or anything that obvious, but I know what
he’s been up to. And I’m furious.
“You about done?” he asks casually.
I snort. “Are you?” I could kick myself for
letting my upset show, but it sort of slips out before I can stop
it.
Cash’s brow wrinkles for just a second. “I’m
ready whenever you are. I know you need to get home.”
How convenient that you remember that now! You’re probably ready for bed. A real bed.
Gritting my teeth, I toss my rag in the
bleach and snatch my purse from beneath the bar. I refuse to rush
just because he’s finally ready. Refuse! Yes, I’ll be the one
paying for it when I’m exhausted tomorrow, but tonight passive
aggressive is all I’ve got.
He leads the way back to the carefully
concealed door at the back of the bar. As I suspected, it’s an
office. And a nicely decorated office, too. Especially considering
that it’s located in a bar.
The color palette is both soothing and
masculine with its rich creams and calming taupes. There are black
accents found throughout the room in the throw pillows on the sofa
and the lamps on the end tables. They tie in to the huge black desk
and expertly-carved cabinetry behind it.
There’s a partially open door on the back
wall. It looks as though it leads into an apartment. A very nice
and spacious one from what I can see.
With a sinking sensation, I realize he
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