Attempting to make the best of the evening, he had decided to pour himself into his studies instead. However, the longing to be with Kalvin--to play games with him, find out how his day had gone at preschool, tuck him into bed at the end of the night, see his mommy--blew his concentration straight to Jupiter. Dammit! No matter what he did, he couldn’t get his mind off Dominique and her child. Every fiber of his being wanted them both, right then and there. They would play together as a family and then…then he and Dominique would put Kalvin to bed and have some private playtime of their own.
The thought brought a mischievous grin to his lips. Slapping his face to his hands, he leaped from the sofa. He was going stir-crazy sitting around this house alone. Worse, he was going to become absolutely certifiable if he had to spend another twenty-four hours without seeing Dominique. He could just picture those men in the white coats stepping onto his doorstep, barging in, tossing him in a straight jacket and taking him away to the loony bin. He was certain it was going to happen if he didn’t find some mental relief fast. He had to see that beautiful, bright face. Hear that soft, sweet, seductive voice; gaze over those sexy curves…
"That’s it." He threw his hands in the air in surrender. "I can’t take it anymore."
Then it hit him. The sure-fire way to get Dominique Gabor out of his sexual mind once and for all. It was so simplistic he could not believe he hadn’t thought of it before. All it would take was to see her at work. Just one time, see her in action flirting with every man that entered the bar, flaunting her slender figure for all males to drool over. Seeing her behave as a true female bartender, as he was sure she would, was certain to erase from his mind forever any idea of being intimate with her.
~ * ~
Dominique spun around behind the bar, snatched a bottle of vodka off the shelf by the jigger in mid-swing, and poured a shot in the silver shaker cup. She topped it with Bloody Mary mix and added dashes of celery salt, Tabasco, and Worcestershire Sauce, before flipping a smaller silver shaker cup into the air. The cup expertly landed open end down into the larger one.
She clasped a firm grip on the two cups and shook them wildly to the fast paced music blaring from the jukebox. It wasn’t her normal preferred eighties heavy metal, but it was fast and it was rock, so it was danceable. After pouring the cup’s contents into a tall glass, she added the garnishments of sliced lemon and lime accompanied with a celery stick, and slid the glass across the bar to the customer.
"Thank you, gorgeous," Bruce Morland said. The middle-aged, well dressed man handed her a twenty dollar bill. "You know, you keep up all that tossing and pretty soon you’ll be able to give Tom Cruise a run for his money."
"Yeah, but I bet I still won’t make as much money as he did when he had to learn it for his part in Cocktail." Dominique flashed him one of her "tip me well" smiles and spun around to the cash register.
She counted out his change on the bar in front of him, then moved on to her next patiently waiting customer. The problem was, a quick scan of the bar revealed she had taken care of everyone for the moment. It was nine o’clock and business was normal for a Monday night. Not too busy, but not too slow. A few tables near the dance floor sat eighteen customers and about ten lined the bar. Thankfully, each and every one had proved to be good tippers. She hadn’t had the time to count, but she was fairly certain she had made close to a hundred bucks, and she still had three hours before she knocked off her shift.
Finding it hard to swallow due to her own dry mouth, Dominique grabbed a glass and pumped it to the rim with ice cold water from the mixer gun. She had just touched the glass to her lips when she glimpsed a customer she had missed. She gulped down half the glass of water, then placed it on the top of the closest beer cooler and made her way to the opposite side of the bar. Halfway there she came to an abrupt halt. Complete shock made her heart flip flop. Feeling her knees going weak, she coached herself silently. Calm down. Get a hold of yourself. You’re at work, remember?
After a few deep, calming breaths, she forced herself to move forward, praying all the while that her legs wouldn’t give from under her. Wouldn’t that be a sight for her customers?
"Well, well, well," she sang, placing a napkin on the freshly varnished bar. Her voice came out steady and strong, much to her surprise. "Let’s see. How does that line go? What’s a guy like you doing in a place like this? I must say you are the last person I expected to see here."
Joshua lifted a shoulder. "I got bored," he said with a wink and a breathtaking ear-to-ear smile.
Oh, don’t smile at me like that. Not here! She wanted to tell him but controlled the urge. If only she could control the butterflies in her stomach, she would be doing well. "Funny, I never pictured you as the type to resort to a barroom when you got bored."
"All right, you got me. I’m busted. I’ve been curious to see where you work. I’ve never been in here. Since you gave me the night off, I figured now was as good of a time as any."
Dominique turned slightly, scanning the level of her customers’ drinks. "It’s a nice little neighborhood bar. Not too shabby, and the customers who come in are usually nice and well behaved." She smiled. The sudden cloud that rose to Joshua’s eyes sent her mind reeling. Poor baby, she thought, her heart going out to him. Now that she knew what had happened to his fiancée, his attitude toward bars in general was completely understandable. In the next heartbeat her inner voice screamed, You idiot! What a thing to say to someone who lost a loved one in a barroom brawl. "Wh--what can I get you to drink?" she asked, attempting to recover the cool atmosphere of the conversation.
He puckered his lips thoughtfully. "I guess I can have one beer. Light in the bottle, please."
"One light beer coming up," Dominique sang. She spun on her heel and came back in a flash, setting the bottle on the napkin in front of him. "My treat."
"Oh, you don’t have to do that," he objected, reaching for his wallet.
"I know, but I still owe you for the food you brought to the house and, speaking of pay, I got my check when I came in this afternoon. I’ll have your money for last week tomorrow afternoon if that’s all right."
"Of course. No rush."
Yeah, I guess not, Mr. Moneybags, she thought, amused by the way he attempted to hide just how much money he really had. Then another thought occurred to her and she could not help but voice it. "So, where’s Heather? I expected you to be spending the evening with her." She didn’t know what had made her ask, but when she stopped to think about it, her intrigue deepened. There he was, sitting before her in a barroom on his night off instead of out with his girlfriend. What gave?
His gaze fell. "She’s not speaking to me right now," he said dryly.
Dominique’s heart leaped in her chest. No matter how selfish and cruel she knew it was, she couldn’t help the joyous feeling the news brought to her. "You didn’t break up, did you?" she asked, doing her best to show concern.
"I don’t really know, but I think so," Joshua shrugged. "It’s probably for the best anyway."
She wanted to ask what exactly he meant by that, but a masculine voice hollering from the opposite side of the bar caught her attention.
"Hey, Dom, you’ve got another customer over here, sexy," the voice said.
Dominique rolled her eyes for only Joshua to see. "I had almost forgotten I was at work. I shall return." She smiled before spinning to tend to her other customers.
"Say, beautiful, when are you going to let me take you home and show you what a real man can do for you?" Bruce Morland said. He reached out, laying a hand on her arm as she placed a beer on the bar for the customer next to him.
Dominique glared under her lashes at Bruce. "Umm…let’s see." She pretended to hesitate, stiffly removing her arm from his embrace. "How about…never."
"Still not ready to give in, huh?" Bruce shook his head, making a clacking sound off the pallet of his mouth with his tongue.
"Nope, and don’t be surprised if I never do." Her words were forceful, ma
king it clear that she held no interest, yet she strived to remain polite.
A nice brush off. That was the easiest way to deal with the many advances she faced on a day-to-day basis. Being nice saved the chance for a good tip and yet put the man in his place without embarrassing him in front of his drunken buddies.
Satisfied for the moment, Bruce turned his attention to his beer drinking buddy and instantly became lost in conversation.
Continuously aware of Joshua’s eyes on her every move, Dominique performed her job as she would on any other night. New customers came and went, each getting served with the same kindness and conversation. When passes were made toward her, she brushed them off just as she had done with Bruce and every other man who hit on her during her shifts.
When she found she had a few minutes to herself in between serving the customers, she would return to Joshua and they would talk about Kalvin and anything else that came to mind. It didn’t take long for her to realize he had ulterior motives for his visit--the intention of proving that she fit into his belief that all female bartenders were downright sluts. He hadn’t said as much, but it was obvious from the looks that rose in his eyes when she kindly turned down the many proposals offered to her by her customers. She had proved him wrong and couldn’t stop a satisfied grin from pasting itself to her face.
The evening had gone off without a hitch until thirty minutes before quitting time when a couple of customers who had arrived about an hour and a half before erupted into a heated argument. Hearing the shouts coming from a table in a darkened area to the right of the bar, she was instantly on guard. A quick glance revealed her regular customers had their eyes glued to the two men as well.
Knowing if anything serious broke out her big butch customers would take on the role of her bouncer, Dominique felt a surge of power rush through her. When the two angry men stood up, yelling vulgar remarks and pointing at each other, she dropped the drink she was in the process of serving and bolted in their direction. Knowing she was no match for either of the men, she kept the bar between herself and the two burly men and shouted, "Hey, calm down right now. We don’t allow fighting in this bar. If you’ve got a problem, take it outside."
The men went silent only long enough to glance at her, then their shouting continued. Realizing that her first attempt to control the situation had failed, she tried a different approach. "Both of you," she yelled, pointing fingers in their direction. "Out!"
"Forget it, babe, we’re not leaving," one of the men darted back. "I’m about to take this jackass down right here, right now, and beat him to a bloody pulp."
"Fine, then when the police get here you can deal with them," Dominique said forcefully. Spinning on her heels, she stomped to the phone by the register.
"You can’t call the cops on me," the man flared. The man seemed to forget who his beef was with as he swung toward her.
Out of the corner of her eye, Dominique spotted Bruce rising from his seat. She motioned for him to sit back down. Reluctantly, he eased back down into his stool, remaining in a position to pounce if the need arose.
"I can call the cops, and I will." She picked up the receiver. "So if you don’t feel like spending the night in jail, I suggest that you and your buddy over there hit the road right now."
Grumbling cuss words under his breath, the man stomped toward the door, followed by his defiant friend and the rest of their party. Dominique stood, phone in hand, and watched through the window until she saw the brake lights of their car leave the parking lot.
The silence in the barroom was deathly thick.
"Big, bad Dominique strikes again!" Bruce shouted when she finally set the phone back on its base. "Handled expertly as usual." He shot her a thumbs up. The bar instantly erupted in talk of the episode.
Taking a few deep breaths to calm her racing heart, Dominique returned to her job as normal. It wasn’t until after she was sure everyone was happy again that she remembered Joshua. When their eyes locked, the fear she saw on his face made her heart crumble. The story her boss had told her of Margot’s death jumped to the front of her mind.
He’s in shock. God, there’s no telling what’s going through his mind.
Slowly, she walked toward him. "Are--are you ok?" she asked, reaching to touch his hand that lay on the bar in front of him. He was shivering.
Seconds passed before he snapped out of his daze. "Ye--yeah," he finally stammered. "It’s getting late. I should really be going now." He quickly stood.
"Joshua, are you sure you’re all right?" Dominique asked again, not releasing her grip on his hand.
Covering her hand with his free one, he forced a smile. "I’m fine. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon, right?"
"Yeah, tomorrow afternoon." He rose, and left the bar. Her gaze stayed on him long before he had walked out. What he must have been thinking, feeling, fearing would happen--it had been written all over his face. She wanted so much to rush after him, to ask him to stay, to take him home with her and embrace him until all the fear was gone.
But she didn’t. She couldn’t. Instead, she returned to her job as usual and prepared for her shift to end.
Ten
Smiling proudly, Dominique folded her arms across her chest as Kalvin bolted across the room of his preschool to a group of children huddled in the floor and immediately joined in on the fun. With a slight wave of her hand, she said goodbye to his teachers and sauntered out of the building. The sunlight hit her eyes. She squinted. It was a beautiful day. Not too cold and not too hot. The sky was cloudless and full of chirping birds.
Easing into the driver’s seat of her car, she started the engine and slowly pulled out onto the main road. It would be four and a half hours until she would have to return to pick up Kalvin. Unfortunately, those four and a half hours were jam packed with errands. Now that she was making more money at the bar, she could catch up on the tons of things she hadn’t been able to afford before. Like the oil in her car for instance--five thousand miles was way too long to drive between oil changes. She also planned to open a checking account today. Although she had been in Mississippi for nearly two years, she had neglected to take the time to set up an account. Truthfully, checking accounts made her nervous when she knew she didn’t have enough money to keep it at a comfortable balance. But now, paying for everything in cash or money orders was becoming more trouble than it was worth.
Coming to a stop at a traffic light, she found her thoughts switching to Joshua. It had only been a couple of days since the incident at the bar, but nothing had been mentioned about it since that night. Still, the event plagued her mind. Many times she had wanted to bring up the subject and many times she had found the perfect opportunity, yet something inside her prevented her from voicing her thoughts. Joshua seemed to have forgotten all about it, but she knew deep down that wasn’t true.
The light turned green and Dominique snapped out of her daze, pressing her foot gently on the gas pedal. Her car had just made it to the center of the intersection when the terrifying, ear-piercing sound of squealing tires filled the air. The blow came hard and fast. Her forehead slammed the steering wheel with excruciating force. Then her upper body bounced back to the driver’s seat. Stunned, she sat in stillness until the throbbing in her head beckoned her hand to rise and cover it. Blinking several times to adjust her focus, she peered out the windshield. Cherry red metal crinkled and bunched up from the side of her car was the only thing she could see.
"Oh my gosh," she gasped. Tears welled in her eyes.
Okay, don’t panic, her inner voice advised. You’ve just had a wreck. Take a few deep breaths, calm down, and try to get out of the car.
A voice broke through her reverie. "Miss…Miss, are you all right?"
Careful not to rattle her brain more than it already had been, she slowly turned her head to the driver’s side window--shattered and gone--and gazed blankly. "Ye--yeah, I think so," she stammered. Her voice was shaky and cracking.
"My wife has called for the po
lice. They should be here any minute," the man informed her. "Can you move? Can you get out of the car? Do you need an ambulance?"
"N--no, I don’t need an ambulance," Dominique replied absently. With great caution, she lifted the inside handle on the door and pushed. Nothing happened.
"Wait, the front finder is really bashed up. It’s going to be hard to open the door." The man straightened, grabbing the outside handle. "I’m going to see if I can pull it open enough for you to get out."
Dominique winced at the spine-cringing creak of bent and broken metal being forced further out of shape. Finally, the door was opened enough that she could squeeze through. Once outside the car, she tried to stand, but her legs had turned to jelly. The man caught her by the arm just before she hit the ground, and leaned her against the rear of the car.
"Are you sure you’re all right, Miss?"
"I’ll be fine. I’m just a little shaken, I think."
"You aren’t bleeding anywhere, are you? Don’t move too much. You have glass from that window all over you."
Dominique stood shakily, allowing the man to brush the glass from her hair and clothing. It wasn’t until then that she actually looked at the helpful man who had come to her aide. The bright sunlight glistened off his smooth, balding, round head. He was a short, older man a bit on the hefty side with kind soft gray eyes, wrinkled cheeks and a thick graying mustache that hung like a curtain over his pudgy lips.
"There, I think I got most of it. It doesn’t look like you were cut." The man stood straight before her. "Did you hit your head?"
Dominique dropped the hand still covering her forehead. "Yeah, I must have hit it on the steering wheel," she muttered. The complete incident came as nothing but a blur.
"You should go to the hospital and let them check you out," the man advised. "You may have a slight…"
The Devine Babysitter Page 11
