by Meghan Quinn
Next activity is it. At least she’s a little looser, because what I have planned is going to require to be a lot looser.
***
“You have got to be kidding me.” Georgie bites her bottom lip and looks behind her.
“I’m not, Princess. It’s either dance or no drinks.”
“Just hand them some cash.” If only it were that easy for me.
I make her look at me and hold her still. “Those heels are going to come in handy now, so use them to your advantage. I’ll help you up.” I go to lift her when she swats at my hands.
“What the hell are you doing? Do not lift me up on that bar.”
I chuckle from the panic in her face and lean forward so my cheek grazes hers, and I’m speaking directly into her ear. “Nothing is going to happen to you, Princess. I wouldn’t allow it.” I press my hand against her hip and pull her closer. “You’re safe when I’m around. But if you want your drink, you’re going to have to work for it.”
Eyes wide, she pulls away and asks with a shake in her voice, “Do I really have to dance on the bar?”
Seeing how nervous she is, I shake my head. “You don’t, Princess. You really don’t, but tonight is about letting loose. Tonight is your one night to step outside your comfort zone and live it up. If there is ever a moment to throw caution to the wind, it’s now.”
Her hand slides into mine, and I refrain from closing my eyes, from showing how much I like the feel of our palms connecting. God, it feels good, so damn good. “You won’t let anything happen to me?”
Leaning forward some more, I press my forehead against hers, the intimacy between us growing to dangerous levels. “Never. I promise.” I step back and clear my throat. “Now go get us some drinks, we have some darts to play, and I’m not doing it empty-handed.”
“Oh God, am I really doing this?”
“You tell me, Georgie.”
She looks back at the bar again, contemplating her decision. And before she changes her mind, she presses her hand against my chest and says, “Help me up.”
“Fuck, yeah.” I scoop her up and whisper in her ear, “Make me proud.”
When she stands on the bar, the music changes, the crowd cheers, and all eyes are on her. A slow beat starts to channel through the joint. Looking unsure, Georgie starts to move from side to side, doing the “grandma sway” and I try to keep my face neutral so she doesn’t see me laughing. It’s taking a lot of courage for her to be up there, so I know not to fuck this up with making her feel insecure . . . even if I should hand her a shawl and cane to go with her sway.
When the crowd quiets down, confused as to why she’s acting like a geriatric up on the bar, I shout up to her. “Let go, Georgie. Just fucking let go.”
She makes eye contact with me.
And does the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. She turns in my direction, as if all her focus is on me and me alone and starts to feel the beat of the music through her body.
The “grandma sway” is gone. Instead, Georgiana Westbrook drops her socialite and stuck-up snob persona and becomes an entirely different woman. A vixen with eyes for me and me alone. Hell, I’m instantly entranced.
Her body moves flawlessly with the music, her eyes trained on me, her hands running up and down her body, until they run through her hair. Her shirt lifts up with her movements, revealing a small patch of skin. That patch of skin I saw many times while she was tanning out by the pool, but right now, in this moment, that little patch of skin is doing a hell of a lot more for me than her bikini-clad body ever did.
Fuck, she’s so hot.
No . . . she’s not just hot. She’s beautiful.
She’s beautiful in the way she moves, in the way she’s so unsure but also confusingly confident. It’s almost like she’s innocent and naughty at the same time, if that’s even possible.
The crowd around me starts to cheer, mainly the men, who are seeing exactly what I am—a gorgeous woman moving her body seductively to the erotic-sounding music. It’s devastating to all dicks around, because she’s a wet fucking dream but so unattainable.
Men around me bump each other and draw closer to the bar, closing in on Georgie. A slightly worried look crosses her face but she has nothing to worry about. I elbow my way forward just in time for the music to stop and for her dance to be over. Everyone around us cheers, but I’m focused on one thing and one thing alone: making sure Georgie isn’t touched by any man that isn’t me.
I reach my hand up to her, which she takes, and I yank her down into my arms. She squeals and then safely falls into my chest where she wraps her arms around my neck. She squeezes me tightly, giving me an unexpected hug, and then pulls away when her feet hit the floor. Her hands skim down my back, trailing a desperate yearning through my thin cotton shirt. Fuck . . .
She rests her hands on my hips and her eyes meet mine. “Thank you,” she whispers just as another man comes up behind her, placing his hands on her hips.
I’ll never know why men think it’s okay as a random stranger to approach a woman like this. It’s creepy and just fucking wrong. Get to know her name first, dickhead. Although in this situation, there will be no getting to know her name.
“Want to dance?” he asks loud enough for everyone around us to hear.
I yank Georgie into my chest and wrap both arms around her, shielding her from the creep. “She’s with me, dickhead, and unless you want my fist decorating your face, I suggest you leave her the fuck alone. Got it?”
The man holds up his hands and says, “I don’t want to cause any trouble.”
“Then beat it before my fist flies through your teeth.”
Not even bothering to bid us a goodbye, he flees and thanks to talking loud enough for everyone around us to hear, no one in the vicinity even looks our way. Just the way I like it.
“Here you go,” the bartender says as he hands us the drinks we ordered before Georgie got up on the bar and danced. “On the house. Thanks for the show, sweetheart.” He taps the counter and then assists another customer.
In awe, Georgie hands me my beer and then sips from her girly drink. “I won these for us.”
Chuckling, I shake my head. “I wouldn’t say won, but you did get them for us. Thanks, Princess.”
“I can’t believe it.” She’s smiling brightly, bouncing in excitement. “I want to do it again.” She starts to get back up on the bar when I grip the back of her jeans and pull her down.
“Don’t even think about it. Once is enough; I don’t want to get in a bar fight with every man in the vicinity.”
“But it was so exhilarating.”
“I’m sure it was, but you can dance on the bar on your own time. We have other things to do. Come on, Princess.”
She loops her arm through mine and follows me to the back room. God, that feeling. Of a girl on my arm. Been a long time. But it’s not just that it’s a girl on my arm. It’s because of this girl. This hot, complicated, beautiful, off-limits girl. Shit. Maybe I should have stayed back at the shop to work. I wouldn’t be in this predicament—a hard dick with the urge to take this woman back home with me—had I stayed away.
***
“You hustled me.”
“I did not.”
“Don’t even fucking lie to me right now.” I point my beer at her. “You’ve played before. There is no way you can shoot that well and never played before.”
“Beginner’s luck.”
“Bullshit,” I say, calling her out. “You hustled me to get your way. Just admit it.”
Looking over her exposed shoulder, she smiles at me, a devastating smile that’s been eating me up all night. “I will never admit to anything. I won fair and square. It’s time to pay up.”
“You won under false pretenses. I went into our bet knowing fully well I was going to win, or else I never would have shook hands on your ridiculous request.”
She presses her lips together. “Sounds like your problem, not mine.”
I lean back in my ch
air, observing her in her tight fucking jeans, sexy-as-hell shirt, with a provocative smile plastered across her face that says, “I got you.” I like it. I like it a lot. I like her a lot.
“I demand a rematch.”
She shakes her head. “That would be your fourth rematch.”
“Best out of five.”
“No.” She laughs. “We’re done. You need to pay up.”
I sit up in my chair and hang my beer between my legs. “What if I don’t?”
“What if you don’t pay up on your bet?” She thinks about it for a second and then says, “Then I’ll purposefully let a box of Little Debbie snacks lay out in the sun right in front of you.”
“You wouldn’t,” I answer back, loving how playful she is.
“I so would. Swiss Rolls, death by sun.”
“You evil witch,” I sneer, standing over her.
She carelessly shrugs. “I take my bets seriously. I’m not opposed to take your unsettled debts out on your friends, Little Debbie being the victim.”
“Heartless.” I shake my head. “So fucking heartless.”
“Pay up, Racer.”
Sighing, I set my empty beer bottle down. “Fine.” I shake my head in disbelief. I can’t fucking believe I’m about to do this. “I should have bet something different.”
“You’re the idiot who agreed.”
“Because I didn’t think—” I take a deep breath and settle myself down. “Doesn’t matter, you’re a sea wench and that’s that.” I head toward the bar, hating every minute of this. When I turn to see Georgie talking to the DJ, a giant smile gracing her face, lightness takes over me. Yeah, I might just humiliate myself right now, but seeing her happy? Yeah, it seems I’m cool with that.
The beat of “Uptown Funk,” the same song I “stripped” to in front of Georgie and Madison when I first went to the shop, plays over the speakers.
That’s my cue.
Rolling my eyes, I jump up on the bar and shuck my shirt, tossing it straight at her.
Go big or go home, that’s my motto.
***
“You’re a savage.”
“Am not.”
“Are to.” Georgie is shaking she’s so upset. “How could you possibly do that? What is wrong with you?”
“Uh, nothing. I’m hungry.” I take another bite and Georgie brings her hand to her forehead in shock, her eyes transfixed on what is in my hand.
“Stop. Stop! You’re ruining everything.”
“What?” I asked confused, lifting up my Kit Kat. “What the hell am I doing wrong?”
“You’re biting into the whole thing.”
“Correct, it’s called eating it.”
“No.” She shakes her head and shows me her Kit Kat. “You’re supposed to peel the bars apart, not just bite into the whole thing. Who does that? Savage beasts, that’s who.”
I observe her Kit Kat and mine and then shrug my shoulders and take another bite. “It all tastes the same, doesn’t matter how it goes down.”
“It matters. It matters greatly. I don’t think I can handle you right now.”
“Because I’m biting into my Kit Kat differently than you.”
She sits up on the bed of my truck, her face a mask of seriousness. “You’re not just eating it differently than me, you’re eating it differently than EVERYONE. No one eats their Kit Kat like that. No one.”
“Never been someone to run with the crowds.” Not caring, I pop the rest of the bar in my mouth and lean back in my truck bed to look up at the foggy night air. We’re parked in front of Limerence, eating our gas station snacks we picked up. “And you can’t be mad at me. I introduced you to not only the glory goddess that is Little Debbie, but I also showed you how to properly fill an Icee.” I nudged her leg with mine.
“I wouldn’t say that makes up for eating your Kit Kat improperly.”
“You were not putting the top on the cup first. I just got you a half-cup more of Icee. I taught you all you need to know in life.”
She sips her blue raspberry Icee and nods her head. “That was a pretty clutch lesson.”
“See.” I toss my empty cup in the back of my truck and soak in the night we had. Weird, random, but fun, almost too much fun. “Stick around me, Princess, you’ll learn everything you ever need to know.”
Silence spreads between us until she shifts on the truck bed and faces me. With her legs crossed, she puts her hands in her lap and speaks softly. “Thank you for tonight, Racer. I had to get my mind off things.”
“No big deal.” I shrug it off even though I know it was a big deal. It was a huge deal for me, because not only did I not earn the money I desperately need, I spent too much time with this woman. I spent too much time watching her loosen up. I liked her before tonight, and now, after our time together, I fucking really like her.
And what do people say? Never get involved with your boss? Yeah, I just very well might be fucked.
I check my watch and even though it says midnight, for a second I think about trying to get some work done. From the way she’s yawning and the way my body is screaming at me for Ibuprofen, I know it’s a lost cause.
“It’s a big deal to me. I know you didn’t have to take me out tonight. I appreciate it.”
I sit up and stretch my back right before hopping off the truck bed. Time to get back home so I can get a little sleep before tomorrow morning. Taking a day off is not an option.
“No problem.” I stick out my hand and help her off the truck. When she lands on the ground, she stumbles for a second, gripping my waist for balance. When she catches it, those green eyes stare up at me, something unfamiliar passing over them.
“Thanks.” Her hand slides up my back, her fingers dancing over my spine, spiking my body with chills. “Are you coming tomorrow to start working on the shelves?”
Her fingers dance with my shirt and I can’t help but wonder what the hell she’s doing. Is she trying to drive me crazy? Because job well done.
“Yeah, I have to.” I grip my hat, immediately hating that I answered her in such desperation. She has me out of whack. She shouldn’t be touching me like that. She can’t touch me like that or else I’m going to do something I regret.
“Because of the deadline?” Her hands run to the front of my waist where they play with the hem of my shirt barely covering the waistband of my jeans. My dick hardens in seconds from the light brush of her fingertips.
“What?” I breathe out, my hands now finding her hips, trying to steady myself.
“The deadline.” Her finger curves into the top of my belt loops as she steps closer. Fuck me I’m hard as a rock right now. Her fingers are so damn close to my hardening cock, dangerously tempting me to the point of no return. “You need to work tomorrow because of the deadline.”
Deadline, she keeps saying that word but it’s not registering. All I can think about is the way her fingernails feel against my skin, how they’re just inches away, so fucking near, that I can almost feel her getting closer with each breath.
The deadline. Yes, the fucking deadline. I need to work because of the deadline, not because I need the money—yeah, that’s all she needs to know.
“Yeah, the deadline. I don’t want to have to charge you more.”
She shakes her head and steps closer. “I hired you for a fixed cost. You can’t charge me more.” Her hand slips under my shirt and runs across a little patch of skin. I almost topple over from the contact, contact I haven’t had in a long time.
Where the hell is this coming from? Why is she touching me tonight? Seeming into me? Just yesterday she was telling me to go to hell. None of this makes sense.
“What’s happening?” I ask, not sure why I just let that slip out of my mouth.
With uncertainty in her face, she shakes her head. “I’m not sure.”
We search each other’s eyes, our hands moving on their own. God, her skin is so smooth. So soft. It’s not until I notice a sparkle on her neck, a light shimmering off the neckla
ce she’s wearing that I’m reminded why this is a bad idea. We are worlds apart and no bridge will ever connect us.
Stepping back, I grip the bill of my hat, trying to rein in my emotions. “I should get you to your car. It’s getting late.”
Her face falls flat, all the sparkle in her eyes vanishing. And just like that, with one brush-off from me, she puts up her wall.
“I can make it to my car. I’m fine.” She steps away. “Thank you for tonight. I had fun. Back to work tomorrow.” Awkwardly she pats my shoulder and starts to walk away.
I snag her hand before she can get too far and say, “Where do you think you’re going? I said I’ll walk you to your car.”
“My car is just around the corner in the back, I’ll be fine.”
“Like hell I’ll let you walk around the corner of the building at midnight. I’m going with you. Stop being stubborn and just let me do this.”
“Fine,” she huffs and walks, once again on her own. Leaving me to follow behind.
Annoyed, I chase after her, wondering if she’s hurt from the way I pulled away. Surely she didn’t really want me to kiss her. Does she want me? Physically, yes. But not in any other way. “You don’t have to walk so fast, you know.” I catch up to her but she doesn’t look in my direction.
“Just trying to get to my car, that’s all.”
“Seems like you’re trying to ignore me.”
“Why would I do that?” she asks, picking up her pace. Damn she’s a fast walker.
I jog to make up her pace. “Because maybe you wanted to kiss me, and you didn’t get a chance so now you’re embarrassed.”
Listen, I don’t know why I said it. Words slip out of my mouth before I can stop them. Are they the most intelligent words? Nope, not even in the slightest, but that’s me.
Georgie halts, causing me to knock into her back. When she turns around, she’s screaming mad and I’m nervous what will happen but also intrigued. “I didn’t want to kiss you.”
I decide to push my luck. “I think you did.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Racer. I had no intention of kissing you.”
“Sooo, your hand up my shirt was because you were cold? In this muggy New York summer heat?”
