by Gina Drayer
“Where to?”
Lee glanced at the now empty alley and took a deep breath. She couldn’t take any more chances. “Can you drive around for a while? I’ll give you an address in a little bit.”
“Sure thing, lady.”
A sixty-dollar cab ride later, Lee was back home. The encounter had unnerved her. There was a possibility that it was just an attempted mugging, but a voice in the back of her head told her it wasn’t a coincidence. She’d spent the morning at the DA’s office and then some guy attacked her on the street.
She slipped into a bath and tried to convince herself that she was safe now, but the blooming bruise on her upper arm would be a temporary reminder that safe was a relative term.
It had been busy for a Monday, which was good. Per Lee’s suggestion, Dylon had started letting local groups rent the upstairs room for meetings. Like the steampunk club that had booked the room for every first Monday of the month. They were a low-maintenance bunch that tipped well. And lucky for him, they were also a fun bunch that liked to drink and ran a big tab.
While Bernadette’s catered the room, event space wasn’t part of the bar. Dylon owned the space, and that meant he collected the rental fee. Now if he could only get a few more regular clients, he might be able to dig out of the hole.
Renting the apartment upstairs had helped a little, but he was only charging Lee half of what he wanted for it. Still, even a little bit of income from that property was better than none. Besides, it made him feel better having her close. Even though she didn’t talk about it, Dylon knew she was afraid of something. He’d seen that look before. It was the look of desperation, of having nowhere else to go. He’d seen that look from people who’d lost everything and from women who were abused. Maybe it wasn’t just a bad breakup like she’d implied. If she was in that kind of trouble, it was better for everyone that she had a safe place to stay.
As promised, Lee popped in right before closing and helped the girls shut down. She didn’t need to, but Dylon got the impression that she was the kind of woman who did things for other people without expecting anything in return. It was a nice change from the women that normally hung around.
When she came back to the store room for the mop, he noticed a wariness that hadn’t been there before. He got up to help her, and she jumped.
“Is everything okay?”
“I’m fine,” she answered too quickly. “It was just a long day. Are you still up to doing that taste test tonight? I could use a drink.”
“Are you sure you’re up for it?” he asked. While he wanted all his waitstaff to be familiar with the menu, he wasn’t going to force her to spend time with him.
“I think a few drinks tonight is exactly what I need,” she said.
He didn’t really like that answer. Something had happened today on her day off to rattle her. “If you’re in trouble or need help—”
“I’d rather not talk about it.” Her shoulders sagged, and she leaned against the door. “Can you just dazzle me with your mixology skill?”
“Sounds like a plan,” he said. “Let me just finish up paying some bills, and I’ll be out. Give me fifteen minutes.” He looked back to the laptop and the stack of papers. “You better make that thirty. What I wouldn’t give to have someone else do this for me.”
Lee opened her mouth to say something, but stopped, shaking her head, as if changing her mind in mid-thought. “That should be plenty of time for me to finish mopping.”
When he finally finished in the back, he found Lee waiting for him at the bar. The lights in the main dining area were turned off, making the space feel more intimate. The overhead music was still playing, but someone had turned it down, so it was a soft background noise. Abbie wasn’t too far off the other night; this was exactly the type of scene he’d set up for a date. But this was business. He was instructing a new employee.
Lee turned around as he approached the bar. The downlight made her red hair glow around her face, and when she smiled at him, Dylon forgot to breathe. She was a stunning woman and every male cell in his body cried out to touch her. This was a bad idea. What the hell had been thinking?
“Can we start with the Horse and Cart?” she asked, holding up the menu. “Out of everything on the list, I think I’ll like that one the best.”
Dylon slipped behind the bar and started pulling out bottles. The physical separation was already helping. This was a role he was comfortable playing.
“Ginger beer, vodka, triple sec, and lemon juice.” He mixed the ingredients and garnished it with a lemon peel.
Lee picked up the glass and gave it a sniff. “Smells citrusy.” She took a sip and grinned. “I like it. I can really taste the ginger.”
“It’s all about the quality of the mixer. I prefer to use one with a nice ginger bite.”
Then much to his surprise, she finished off the drink in a few swallows.
“Maybe you should slow down,” he said. “We’ve got a lot of drinks to go through tonight. If you drink them all like that, I’ll be picking you up off the ground.”
“Well, maybe you should split them with me,” she said, challenging him. “It’s no fun to drink alone.”
This was a really bad idea, but Dylon had never been known for his good sense. He poured up the next two drinks: a cranberry negroni and a jasmine.
“The next two drinks have Campari as the main ingredient. Campari is an Italian liqueur with a bitter bite, made from aromatic herbs and orange peel.” He took a sip from the negroni, enjoying the complex flavors, and handed over the cup. “The negroni is a classic gin cocktail. I’ve added a dash of cranberry bitters and cranberry juice to brighten up the flavors. It’s a popular drink, especially around the holidays.”
He watched as she took a drink and wrinkled her nose. She passed the glass back. “Sorry, not a fan.”
He shrugged, handing over the other glass. “Campari is an acquired taste. The jasmine is more approachable.”
“It looks like a cosmo,” she said, reaching for the glass.
Their hands met, and she looked up. Something in those pale gray eyes of hers drew him in. It was a quiet desperation. A need for connection that resonated with him. He pulled away, breaking that connection, and the moment was lost.
“Pink drinks get a bad rep for being girly drinks. The jasmine is actually one of my favorites.”
“It tastes just like grapefruit juice,” Lee said, leaning over the bar, “but I swear I didn’t see you using any. What kind of sorcery is this?”
“Didn’t anyone tell you?” He laughed and leaned in close to her, lowering his voice as if imparting a secret. “I have magical mixology powers.”
Dylon started to pull back just as she turned her head; her hair brushed across his cheek, and her lips grazed his. Her hot breath caressed his skin, the sweet scent of the drinks mingling with the fresh soap smell. The sensation was unexpectedly sensuous.
The sexually charged moment must have surprised her as well. She sucked in a breath and her eyes went wide.
It was just a heartbeat, but for him the moment seemed to last for an eternity. All he’d have to do was lean in to get a good taste of her plump mouth.
But before he could do anything, she pulled back and licked her lips. “I guess you can’t really judge a drink by its color.”
“Maybe we should call it a night,” he suggested.
“One more drink,” she said. “It really was a long day, and I’ve been dying for another of your martinis. Show me how you make it.”
He thought about saying no, but he remembered how she’d looked when she came into his office: sad and beaten down. Hell, how many times had he drowned his trouble in alcohol? And it wasn’t as if she had to drive home.
“Fine, but this is the last one tonight. We can go over the rest some other time.” He got out a martini glass and mixed up two. “Start with good quality vodka and vermouth. I like to add equal parts dry and sweet vermouth.” He poured the drink out of the shaker and reac
hed into the garnish tray, and deposited four olives into her glass. “And extra olives for the lady.”
They sipped their drinks in silence. Something had shifted between them, and he wasn’t quite sure what to do next. Getting involved with Lee would cause all kinds of trouble. But the attraction was there, electric, between the two of them. It wasn’t something he could ignore for very much longer.
Lee finished her drink first and started collecting the glasses.
“You don’t have to do that. It’s supposed to be your night off.”
“I don’t mind. I actually prefer to keep busy.”
She washed out the glasses while he put away the bottles. She slipped off her sweater as she worked, and that’s when he saw the dark purple bruises on her upper arm that looked suspiciously like a handprint.
“What happened?” he said and grabbed her arm to get a better look at the damage. This hadn’t been an accident. “You need to tell me who put his hands on you.”
Lee yanked her arm away and put her sweater back on. “I told you, I didn’t want to talk about it.”
“Fuck that. This isn’t a bad day. Someone hurt you.”
“It was no one. You don’t have to worry about me. I have everything under control.” She tried to put on a brave front, but the slight tremor in her voice gave her away.
“Like hell you do. Lee, let me help you.”
“This was a bad idea. You’re my boss and my neighbor. We need to keep things professional.”
“If that’s what you want. I promise not to pry into your personal life.” Dylon crossed his arms over his chest. “But personal or not, if that asshole shows his face around here, I’m going to make him regret ever laying a hand on you.”
“It won’t be a problem. I swear.” There was a long, uncomfortable silence as he waited for her to fill in more details, but none came. Lee was the first to look away. “It’s been a long day, and those drinks made me sleepy. I’m going to head upstairs.”
The night had taken a strange turn. Dylon followed her to the back stairs and locked up the bar. He couldn’t get the picture of that ugly bruise out of his mind. He didn’t trust that Lee would tell him if she was in real danger, and he wasn’t quite sure how to protect her if she wouldn’t let him in.
From the moment he’d laid eyes on her, Dylon had known that Lee was in some kind of trouble. And now that he knew what kind, he couldn’t just turn a blind eye.
Chapter Seven
Lee spent the rest of her next day off locked in the apartment. After her encounter on the streets, she wasn't up to venturing out into the city again. And after the sexually charged moment she had with Dylon, neither was she ready to face him. For his part, Dylon hadn’t been in the mood either. She’d heard him in his apartment and coming up and down the stairs, but he avoided the third floor.
When Wednesday rolled around, Lee wasn’t sure what the evening would hold. Should she talk to Dylon about Monday night? Was it better or worse for her cover now that he thought she was a battered woman? And then there was the almost kiss. Her lips still tingled at the memory.
Maybe it would be best just to pretend nothing happened. Put it out of her mind and get ready for work. But when she opened her mostly empty closet, she was reminded of the wasted day she’d spent cowering in her apartment. She needed to go shopping. The only clothes she had to wear for work were a few borrowed dresses. She sorted through her meager possessions and sighed. Not that long ago she’d had a walk-in closet filled with designer clothing.
But those possessions had been tainted by Christian’s crimes. On her way out of his life, she only took one over-sized suitcase. The sad thing was, even those items were useless to her new identity. Nothing she had owned back then was appropriate for hard work, and the designer labels certainly didn’t fit the retro dress code at Bernadette's.
Lee shifted through the borrowed clothing and decided on a forties-style, navy polka-dotted dress that Roxie had loaned her. The A-line skirt accentuated her curves. Even though it was a bit long on her, the style was more flattering than most of her expensive wardrobe. Maybe tomorrow she’d take a deep breath, leave the apartment, and fill in her wardrobe. Or there was always online shopping.
That was another thing she could blame Christian for; she was very close to becoming a shut-in. And one of the drawbacks of never leaving the house was that time took on a new dimension. The clock had barely moved even after she finished showering and dressing.
Her shift didn’t start for another hour, and Lee didn’t feel like hanging out in the bar. She tried to tame her wild curls into one of the cute styles Abbie had shown her, but the effort had been futile. The uncooperative hair wouldn’t hold the style, and she ended up pulling it back into a clip. She sprayed it lightly and thought about tweaking her makeup. It was just another stall tactic. And despite all her extra efforts, her mind kept straying back to Dylon.
She liked him, in spite of her initial misgivings. Sure, he was a shameless flirt, and from what Abbie reported, a happy bachelor not looking for anything deep in a relationship. But he was also fun and generous to those he called his own. And by virtue of working at Bernadette's, Lee had become one of his people.
She couldn’t deny her attraction to him, and after the strange sexual tension from their late-night drink-tasting, she didn’t want to. He wasn’t looking for long-term, so maybe it could work out. What if she did sleep with him? Her track record with men wasn’t stellar, and it would probably end in disaster. The last thing she needed was more complications in her life.
On that cheerful note, her alarm went off. She’d waited long as she could, and it was time to face the music. She slipped downstairs, hoping to go unnoticed, but all her stealth didn't matter because Michael was behind the bar.
Lee knew she’d eventually have to face Dylon, but one more night without dealing with the awkwardness would be nice.
She’d been working at Bernadette’s long enough to get a feel for things, and the ebb and flow of the nights were becoming apparent. Different crowds showed up on different days, and the energy in the bar changed depending on the time. As expected, Friday and Saturday nights were always busy. The weekdays were hit and miss.
That Wednesday was a clear miss, which was disappointing. She found the busy nights were the best. They could be frantic at times, but her shift flew by, and the tips were good. On a busy night, she could, for a few hours, get swept up in a world of people having a good time. It helped her forget her own troubles.
One thing she never expected to enjoy about her job was its voyeuristic nature. She was privy to snatches of conversation about jobs, families, and love lives. It was odd, but listening to the mundane passage of everyday life gave her a comforting sense of normality that she desperately clung to.
The people she waited on were sociable, even casually friendly, but they didn’t know her. She’d taken on the persona of Lee Taylor, the waitress, but none of them knew the real her. She wondered if people would treat her differently if they knew her as Lee O'Brien, the former financial analyst, star witness for the prosecution, and double-crossing girlfriend. Even if they didn’t know anyone involved in the case, she couldn’t help but think some of them would condemn her for her personal role in those crimes.
Still, despite knowing that this fleeting happiness was built on a lie, Lee had embraced the life she was living. It was a connection to the world of people, and to everyday life—drinks after work, guys wooing girls, women looking for Mr. Right. It was ordinary and vital, and she needed it.
Another advantage of the work was that it required concentration. On busy nights, remembering customers and drink orders kept her from feeling sorry for herself. It was too bad that every night wasn’t busy from opening to closing.
But on slow nights, she had way too much time to think. Most of the time, she thought about her current predicament, but tonight, she couldn’t stop thinking about Dylon. And as her mother always said: speak of the devil, and he doth appe
ar.
Dylon came down a little after ten, looked around the bar, and told Sarah to go home. “There’s no point in making you stand around here,” he said. “If anyone comes in, I’m sure Michael, Lee, and I can handle it.”
“You sure?” she asked, but was clearly delighted at the idea of leaving early.
“I am. Go home and tuck your kids in.”
She took off her apron and laughed. “It’s past ten. They’re already in bed.”
“I always stay up past my bedtime,” he said with a wink. “Besides, I think I read something about forced bedtimes being bad or something. You should just let them run around until they're tired. I’d bet they’d sleep better.”
“Do you have any idea how terrifying a tired four-year-old is?” she said, shaking her head. “God help you if you ever have kids. Actually on second thought, never have kids. Trust me. It will be better that way.”
“I’d have to find a woman who’d put up with me first.” He wrapped his arm around Sarah and walked her to the back door. “So if the kids aren’t up, you should go home, soak in the tub, and enjoy the quiet.”
“Now you’re talking.” Sarah gave him a big hug and a quick kiss on the cheek. “You’re the best.”
“Just remember my generosity next time I call to ask you to pick up a shift,” he called after her.
Dylon’s employees all genuinely liked him, and for his part, he cared about what was going on in their lives. It was a nice change from the cutthroat world Lee had come from. She felt safe here. If she was honest with herself, it was Dylon she felt safe around.
Dylon turned back to the mostly empty bar and eyed Lee as if assessing her for additional injuries. She squirmed under his attention. She could just tell him what was going on, but then he’d want to get involved. She couldn’t put him in that position. It’d be easier to let him think whatever story he’d come up with.
As she delivered food to one of her tables, her cell phone text notification went off. Hopefully, it was the DA with a court date. Janet and Dylon were the only people who had the new number. Lee was the only person on the floor. And with Dylon sitting at the bar watching her like a hawk, she didn’t want to check the message, so she ignored the phone for now. Anything Janet wanted could wait until later.
