Betting the Bad Boy (Behind the Bar)

by Stefanie London

  “I can’t handle two of you.” Ginnie grabbed Noah by the shoulders and shook him as hard as her skinny little bird arms would allow. “Snap out of it now!”

  “Hey, respect the beer.” Noah plonked the bottle down on a small table in front of him to avoid spilling the liquid gold. “I thought you two would appreciate me being serious for once.”

  “No way.” Megan shook her head. “I am not giving up that crown.”

  Megan was a bank branch manager in the small country town she’d moved to with her fiancé two years ago. At twenty-six, she was the youngest manager in her division, had won several awards for her hard work, and had completely blossomed as a human being. She was a far cry from the sensitive young girl who’d refused to set foot outside the house by herself for her first three years in foster care.

  Ginnie, on the other hand, was twenty-one and currently smashing it at university. She worked two jobs as well as studying and hadn’t changed one iota from the day he’d met her as a rambunctious five-year-old.

  They may “only” be foster siblings, but he loved them like nothing else. Where he came from, blood connections didn’t count for shit; it was the family you chose to surround yourself with that really mattered. He was just lucky that the girls had forgiven him for abandoning them.

  “That’s right,” Ginnie said. “Megan’s the serious one, you’re the protective one, I’m the funny one, and Amanda’s the…”

  The smile slipped from her lips, and she dropped her hands into her lap. As the baby of the family she wanted everyone to stick together, and she put her older brother and sisters on a pedestal whether they deserved it or not.

  “The unreliable one,” Megan offered, her lips set into a hard line. “Or the criminal one, that could also work. How about—”

  “Enough.” Noah didn’t ever need to shout to get people’s attention—he’d learned that early on. Being a big guy with a deep voice, he often found that a quiet word had more impact. “We’re still family, remember?”

  “How can you say that after what she did?” Megan shook her head. “How could you possibly defend her after she stole money from you?”

  Noah sighed. Sometimes he wondered if he might’ve done things differently if the clock were turned back. Would he still leave if there was a chance to do things over?

  Guilt had shadowed him for years after he walked out of his last foster home, because it was a selfish move. But getting out and forging his own space in the world—independently and without needing anyone’s permission—was the only thing that’d stopped him from going off the deep end. However, it’d come at a cost.

  He’d left the girls in the presence of their foster brother, a recreational drug user and wannabe dealer who’d seen them only as potential customers. Not that his foster parents had believed Noah when he’d told them what their precious son was doing behind closed doors—no one had. In fact, the one time they’d found some pills in the house, Noah had taken the blame. His foster father, Bob, had torn him to shreds, never once for a second believing that someone else might be responsible.

  He couldn’t stay in that environment; his self-esteem had taken a beating for too long. So he left…and ultimately, Amanda had succumbed to her brother’s sales techniques. Maybe if Noah had stayed, he would have been able to protect her…

  “I’m not defending her actions.” He reached for his beer and took another long gulp, memories swirling like a vicious tornado in his head. “But she has a problem, Megs. You know it’s not really her doing those things.”

  “Isn’t it? It’s been a pattern for years now. You’ll have to stop making excuses for her eventually.”

  “She’s getting help. That’s what matters.”

  A lot of people probably would have cast a family member out for what his sister had done. Thieving, lying. But now that he was in a better place, he owed it to them to provide support. Especially to Amanda.

  Megan folded her arms across her chest. “She was supposed to have gotten help last time.”

  “Come on, Megs.” Ginnie sighed and wrung her hands. “I don’t want to fight. You hardly ever come to visit anymore, and we’re supposed to be having a good time.”

  “We’re not fighting.” Megan’s expression softened. She looked as though she wanted to say more, but she stayed silent. “I promise.”

  “Excellent. Because I’m thinking this might be a good time to tell you something.” Ginnie bounced in her seat, her dark eyes glittering.

  “Why do I not have a good feeling about where this is going?” Megan’s eyes darted to Noah, and he stifled a laugh by running a hand over his jaw.

  “Don’t look at me,” he said. “I’m not the boss of her.”

  “Oh ye of little faith.” Ginnie huffed. “I was going to tell you I got an internship at Cosmo magazine in Sydney.”

  “Thank God. I thought you’d done something stupid and gotten a tattoo.” Megan sighed.

  “Hey.” Noah looked at her. “Not cool.”

  “You don’t count. I won’t have to talk the parentals down from the ledge on your behalf.”

  Too right. He hadn’t exactly maintained a close relationship with his foster parents after he walked out almost ten years ago. He was grateful, though, that Ginnie and Megan maintained a positive relationship with them.

  “Hello, great big exciting announcement alert.” Ginnie waved her hands around. “I got my dream job.”

  “Well, you got an internship, which is not quite a job,” Megan said, sitting up straighter when Noah shot her a look. “But that’s really wonderful, Gin. I know you wanted that one a lot. I’m happy for you.”

  “I did, and it’s so competitive. They get hundreds of girls applying, and they chose me.” She squealed, and the sound shot right through Noah’s eardrum. “It’s going to be like The Devil Wears Prada…but hopefully without the mean boss.”

  “I’m proud of you, Gin-gin.” Noah looked from one girl to the other, warmth kindling in his chest. “You two are blazing trails. Bob and Marie must be so pleased.”

  He tried not to let the dark cloud of Amanda’s absence overshadow his time with his other sisters. Growing up the way he did, he knew that the ideal happy family wasn’t anything but a figment of people’s imaginations.

  “I’m having a going-away party before I leave,” Ginnie said. “You should come. I’m sure they’d like to see you.”

  He pushed up from his chair, eager to get away from the sudden volatile turn of their conversation. Talking about his foster parents never did much good—to the girls, they’d been white knights. Loving, caring, nurturing. To Noah…well, they’d done nothing but reinforce his fears that he wasn’t built for long-term.

  “How about I get another round?” he said, and the girls nodded, already having moved on to talking about Ginnie’s “first-day outfit” for her internship.

  Noah walked through the patio area, trying to shake off his conflicted feelings. Ginnie’s invite to attend her going-away party might seem like a throwaway comment, but she’d been angling for Noah to repair his relationship with his foster parents for years. The scars of the past ran deep, however. Bob and Marie McMahon had been the first adults to ever treat him like he belonged. But eventually they, too, lost hope that he’d ever be anything but a bad egg.

  The music from inside the bar pulsated as Noah stepped inside, being careful to skirt the edge of the dance floor where sweaty bodies writhed to the beat. Maybe after the girls went home, he’d stay a while longer. Drown his sorrows at the bar or something pathetically cliché like that.

  As he walked, something caught his eye from the dance floor, compelling him to stop. Paige. Her lithe body had been poured into a little black dress that was hot enough to melt the gates of hell. Damn.

  It wasn’t an image that would soon be evicted from his mind. Especially since she’d been at the forefront of his thoughts all day. Her whole first week at the bar had been an exercise in restraint—his eyes constantly drifted to her. And h
e found himself making excuses to leave the office so he could chat with her while she worked. Then Friday night, kissing her and watching her walk away had given him a case of blue balls that he hadn’t experienced in quite a while.

  Like DEFCON 1 level of blue balls.

  The music pounded in time with his heartbeat as he watched her dance, her hips swinging and hands coming up to push the hair out of her eyes. She had a drink in her hand—something fruity-looking—and she stopped to take a sip. Her head lifted suddenly, as if she could feel his eyes on her, and their gazes locked. For a moment she did nothing but match his stare—then her body moved again. Her hips rocked from side to side, and her free hand smoothed over the hem of her dress. When she turned, he caught a glimpse of bare back that finished in a point above the curve of her butt.

  I have a hard limit when it comes to getting involved with people at work…

  Her words rang in his ears. Sure didn’t seem like it given the way her hips were rolling while she kept steady eye contact with him. And it sure as hell hadn’t seemed like it when she’d kissed him back with all her might. The girl was toying with him, taunting him in the wake of their bet. Cheeky minx.

  Noah stifled a grin and headed for the bar. He was going to win, but he’d take his time. Get the upper hand so subtly that she wouldn’t even know it until it was too late. Noah might not be the model big brother or budding success story—but there was one thing he knew inside and out. Women.

  Chapter Seven

  “That guy was totally eye-fucking you,” Sally said as she shimmied in time to the beat. “He’s hot, too. Looks like he’s headed to the bar—you should go and say hi.”

  Paige’s mouth was dry, despite the drink in her hand. Her pulse thumped, ringing in her ears louder than the vibrating dubstep beat that the DJ had mixed over the top of some pop song. At first, she’d wondered if the image of Noah was a mirage. A hot, delicious, sinfully tempting mirage. His light eyes had seemed to burn like blue fire, but his expression was hard to read. There was no trace of his usual, jovial smile. No playfulness.

  He had watched her so intently that she couldn’t help but preen under his gaze. She’d turned slightly, letting him see the bare skin at her back. Letting him get his fill of her body…and then he was gone, leaving disappointment stabbing at her. Which was stupid. She’d outright told him that she had a rule against dating people at work and made him a bet to back it up. So why would he hang around and watch her dance if there was no chance of it going anywhere? He probably had women lining up to do more than eye-fucking.

  Ugh. Why did he have to be so smoking hot?

  “You’re trying to get me in trouble.”

  “You need a little trouble.” Sally nudged her. “Go. Blow off some steam. Remind yourself that you’re twenty-six instead of eighty-six.”

  Paige opened her mouth to retort, but the words stuck in her throat. “I don’t act like I’m eighty-six. I know what I want. What’s wrong with that?”

  “Nothing, but you seem to think knowing what you want means not having any fun on the way to getting it.” Sally grinned. “Just because you’re going to the supermarket for a carton of milk, doesn’t mean you can’t stop to smell the roses along the way.”

  “I think you’re mixing metaphors.”

  Sally shrugged. “I’m not pushing you to do anything, only putting ideas out there. That’s all.”

  Paige’s eye darted toward the crowded bar. Noah wasn’t anywhere to be seen, but suddenly she didn’t feel like dancing anymore. “I’m going to grab another drink.”

  Sally looked down to the half-empty cocktail in Paige’s hand. “Not enjoying that one?”

  “It’s, uh…too sweet.” She shoved the glass toward Sally. “Want the rest?”

  “Well, I did pay for it.” Sally shrugged and took the drink. “I’m not above keeping both hands occupied. Travis is going to stop by anyway, so I might have to call it a night soon.”

  Ahh, Travis, the ever-doting boyfriend. Paige tried not to roll her eyes—she was happy for Sally and her newfound loved-up status. Really, she was.

  Well, mostly.

  Paige tried to keep a neutral face. “He’s stopping by on ladies’ night?”

  “He said he misses me already.” To her credit, Sally looked a little guilty. “I couldn’t tell him not to come.”

  Paige didn’t point out that she’d stayed at his place the last two nights. “He’s only allowed to join us if he wears a dress.”

  “Don’t be like that. He was going to come over, but we were out…”

  She patted Sally’s arm. “It’s fine, Sal.”

  Paige headed to the bar and tried to ignore the throbbing in the balls of her feet. There would be blisters tomorrow, she was sure of it. Maybe she should skip the bar and head home—if Noah were interested in chatting to her, he would have come over.

  But then again, did she really want to go home and hear the evidence of Sal and Travis’s relationship honeymoon period? No freaking way.

  She squeezed past a group of women standing near the bar and tried to find a free stool. Sitting would make her feel better. Reprieve for her feet and a few more drinks to dull her insecurities. Spotting someone leaving the bar, she made a dash for the opening and slid herself onto the stool.

  “Are you following me?”

  A deep voice sent ripples of awareness along Paige’s spine. Noah stood next to her, his elbows resting on the bar. Up close she could see how the fabric of his T-shirt stretched across his biceps, hugging the well-defined muscles in a way that made her stomach flip.

  Thor’s hammer, indeed.

  “Hardly. You happen to be where the good stuff is.” She signaled to the waiter and ordered a drink. “I am not following you.”

  “Glad we got that straightened out,” he said drily.

  The bartender slid two purple cocktails toward Noah, along with a gin and tonic. The cocktails definitely weren’t for him, if his comments during the mixology class were anything to go on. He must be buying drinks for someone else. A female someone else, most likely.

  Paige swallowed against the rush of jealousy in the back of her throat. Friday night he’d acted like the kiss had gotten him all worked up, and yet he’d moved on in less than forty-eight hours. So much for the thrill of the chase. She should have known better—this was exactly why she stayed away from guys who were good-looking and charming as hell. If he wanted to sleep around, that was totally his business, but she wanted no part of it.

  “Looks like you’re occupied tonight,” she said. “So I won’t keep you.”

  She turned back to the bar and forced herself to watch intently as the bartender made her drink. His deft hands sliced the lemon for her Tom Collins.

  “You’re so chatty usually.” There was a hint of amusement in Noah’s voice that made heat rush to her cheeks. “What happened? Is it something to do with our bet?”

  She was being childish. It wasn’t his fault that she couldn’t seem to get her head straight where he was concerned. Nor was it his fault that she hated herself for her own rules. And right now, using every ounce of willpower to stop herself from fisting her hands in his thick golden hair, she did hate herself. Just a little.

  “It looks like you’re on a date so I didn’t want you to think you had to sit here and talk to me.” She forced herself to smile, but her cheeks felt stiff. “Regardless of anything that happened Friday night.”

  He opened his mouth to respond, but at that moment a woman came up beside him and slipped a hand over his shoulder. She had long dark hair that curled and kinked every which way. Her makeup was on point, and she was dressed like she’d stepped off the cover of a magazine.

  Side by side they looked like one of those annoyingly perfect couples. He was all gold tones and baby blues, while she could have been a fifties silver-screen starlet with her olive skin and heavy-lashed eyes.

  “Hey, I though you must have gotten lost,” she said, her dark eyes flickering between Paige and
Noah. “Megan and I are getting thirsty.”

  There were two of them? Holy moly. He was hot, sure, but he hadn’t struck her as a complete manwhore. Well, the last guy she’d gone on a date with hadn’t struck her as the type to get her fired…so maybe her judgment was off.

  “Ginnie, this is Paige.” He gestured to her with a twinkle in his eye that said she wasn’t doing a very good job of keeping her feelings off her face. “Paige is our new barista at First.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Ginnie stuck her hand out and smiled warmly. Then she spotted the cocktails. “Is that my drink?”

  “Sure is. Why don’t you take the other one to Megs, and I’ll be back out shortly?”

  “Yes, sir.” She winked at Noah and reached for the drinks before disappearing back into the crowd.

  In the meantime, the bartender had finished Paige’s drink and she found herself gulping it down in an effort to hide her awkwardness. Thank God it was two-for-one night and there was a second one ready to go. Noah continued to smile at her as if he knew exactly what she was thinking.

  Wouldn’t be a problem if you weren’t thinking such dumb things.

  “That good, huh?” he asked, his lips twitching with a smile. “I was going to say cheers, but you might be done before I get the chance.”

  “It’s okay, I have another.”

  “Well, cheers.” He held his drink out to hers, and she obliged.

  “I don’t know why you’re still here,” she said, trying to sound unaffected. “You’ve got not one but two women waiting for you.”

  He cocked his head as if studying her. “Does that bother you?”

  “It’s none of my business.”

  “That doesn’t answer the question,” he said, sipping his drink.

  “Why should it bother me? I mean, there’s nothing wrong with that, I guess…so long as you’re not lying to either one of them.”

  “Why would I be lying to them?”

  “Well, I mean, you did kiss me and now you’re here with two women.” Heat rushed up to her cheeks. The alcohol had loosened her tongue and all the silly, jealous thoughts were slipping past her lips before she could stop them. “I hope you’re not in a relationship or anything, because that’s not a very nice way to treat people.”