“I’m here to apply for the job.”
Chapter Two
Ainsley held her chin up as the dark black eyes of the bar owner stared at her with amusement. A towering force of a man, he had shaggy black hair that framed a rugged face. Damn he was gorgeous, but she couldn’t let that distract her from her mission. Those sexy eyes of his narrowed again. It was obvious she was out of her element but he would not intimidate her. No one would ever do that again. She wanted this job. She needed it if she wanted to ever leave town. The tow truck driver had informed Deputy Conrad that the truck’s engine had been damaged. He estimated at least two thousand dollars was needed in repairs. About fifteen hundred dollars more than she’d paid for it.
So she was stuck in this two-bit town until she could raise enough to buy a new car or get the repairs made. Pulling money from her sizable bank accounts wasn’t an option. It would be too easy for someone to track her. Still in shock over what had happened the last week, she wanted to crawl in a hole and weep, but she had to survive. The first step was acquiring a job.
The deputy had mentioned one of the waitresses was about to have a baby and that the bar owner needed some help. But he didn’t look like a man who needed anything.
“Do you have any experience?” The giant bear of a man hadn’t taken his eyes off her since she entered the bar except very briefly when she’d first refused to look away.
“Yes,” she said. He didn’t ask specifically about waitressing experience so she hadn’t lied. She did have experience working with the public and particularly difficult clients. While the patrons at the bar might not have the money involved with her business, they couldn’t be any more difficult to handle.
His eyebrow shot up and she knew he didn’t believe her.
“I’ve never worked in a place like this,” she put a hand on the bar to steady herself. What was it about this guy? He had to be well over six feet and had some of the widest shoulders she’d ever seen. She wanted to run her hands through his hair, and to trail her fingers down that rugged face.
Great, after two years of celibacy my libido finally decides to kick in.
Focus.
Swallowing hard, she waited.
The trick was one her father taught her long ago on the art of the deal. Keep your mouth shut and let the other person make the play—then you counteroffer with a better number. More than once she’d used the game to do deals with stuffy art patrons at her gallery. Her clientele might have been some of the wealthiest Los Angeles had to offer, but they still wanted a bargain.
“No,” the giant man said.
She leaned forward. “What?”
“No,” he said simply and then turned to walk through a pair of saloon doors that were right out of an old John Wayne movie.
Her jaw tightened. Rude jerk. No one treated Ainsley like that. Not if they wanted to live to see another day. Unlike what the rest of the world thought of her, she was a hard worker. She had an MBA from Wharton School of Business, a successful career as a gallery owner, and she ran one of the best auction houses on the West coast.
Or she used to.
No way could she return to that life unless she found a way to solve her problem. The trouble was she couldn’t think of a way out of the situation where she didn’t wind up dead.
Sighing, she sat down on the nearest open stool. The people at the bar ignored her. She was okay with that. Disappearing into a crowd was what she needed until she could decide what to do next.
The deputy had mentioned there weren’t a lot of jobs in town. Most of the area was ranches and farms, which were definitely out of her league. Ainsley didn’t do the outside. She had the porcelain skin to prove it. The hate was mutual. Nature seemed to despise her as much as she did it.
Tonight was a perfect example. Snow, tigers and trees.
Of course the deputy had laughed when she mentioned the tiger.
“Ma’am,” a handsome man behind the counter pulled her from her reverie. His shaggy, dirty blond hair was in need of a good cut, but he was handsome with his blue eyes and Marlboro man looks.
The guy could be a model for Ralph Lauren for God’s sake.
“Yes,” she said expecting him to tell her to leave.
“Can I get you something? You’re kind of pale.”
She chuckled. “This is my natural shade,” she said nonchalantly. “The sun and I don’t get along.”
His white-teethed grin settled her. At least someone understood her jokes.
“Well, how about a drink?”
Pursing her lips, she thought for a moment.
“I’ll take some coffee and one of those aprons hanging next to the doors.” She pointed to the hooks where several bar aprons hung.
The man frowned. “But the boss—”
“Is for me to worry about,” she gave him her sweetest smile. The one she’d used to charm her clients out of their money. “What’s your name?”
He eyed her a bit more warily now. “Chris,” he said finally.
“Chris, I promise I’ll never tell him who gave me the apron but it looks like you need some help around here. I don’t have any money so I’m going to have to work for that coffee,” she said honestly.
Well, she had fifty bucks but she refused to spend it on luxuries like coffee and food. She’d wanted to lose some weight for as long as she could remember. This was the perfect opportunity.
He handed her a cup and she wrapped her frozen hands around it. The delicious aroma floated through her senses—a dark roast with a hint of cinnamon, a strange blend for a dumpy bar in the middle of nowheresville. This was imported, likely French. Someone had a decent palate.
The first heavenly sip revived her. The caffeine shot through her body like an electric shock. The fuzziness lifted from her brain and she almost felt human again.
Almost.
She was still disoriented by her surroundings, like she’d been dropped into the middle of a bad “Twilight Zone,” episode. That had been one of her favorite old shows to watch with her brother.
Don’t think about family, you’ll never make it through the night.
Tying the apron around her waist, she took a deep breath, stood, and reached behind the bar to grab one of the empty trays.
She needed the job and she’d show that grumpy asshat she could waitress with the best of them. Her choices were limited and she was desperate. The place deserved a thorough cleaning at the very least. If he didn’t like her skills as a waitress, perhaps he’d hire her as a janitor—and maybe decorator. The tables and bar were made from ash and intricately carved. But the dull gray walls and tile floors, at least she thought they were tile, needed updating.
Plastering a friendly smile on her face and ignoring the soreness from the wreck that set in now that the initial adrenaline rush subsided, she placed the tray on her arm and hit the booths first.
…
What the hell is she doing?
Luc’s eyes followed the honey-scented woman as she charmed his customers one-by-one. If she messed up on who got what drink, she just smiled and shrugged. She’d spilled four, so far. Make that five. No one seemed to mind.
Except for him.
She steadfastly ignored Luc when she returned to put in the orders. “Two pints and a,” she closed her eyes for a second, “black and tan, please.”
“Comin’ up,” Chris said from behind the bar. A minute later the drinks were on the tray.
“Thanks, Chris. You’re the best.”
He’d never seen Chris smile like that. “You’re welcome.”
There has never been so many pleases and thank yous in his bar.
And he didn’t like the way some of the men’s eyes followed her as she sashayed back and forth from the bar to the tables. A bar brawl just waiting to happen, that one. Even the Cress boys were mesmerized by her. When she spoke to them, they actually blushed and immediately did whatever she asked.
She had to be some kind of witch. There hadn’t been any mention
of witches in the past century after most of them didn’t survive the last war between supernaturals. But maybe they’d been hiding.
Luc nearly fell over when the twins said, “Yes, ma’am” in unison. He wasn’t sure anyone had ever garnered that much respect from the boys. They weren’t bad kids. After their dad was killed in a mining accident, they’d been out of control. Everyone thought when their mother remarried the boys would settle down, but it hadn’t happened.
Luc had become kind of a substitute uncle and kept an eye on them. Like he didn’t have enough to do around this town. Still, he knew that a strong male influence could change a life. Someone had done it for him, now he’d return the favor.
His attention was diverted by a loud yelp and a crash of glass.
Harry Janks had his hand on the rear of the honey-scented girl.
Luc was through the doors and half way around the bar before he heard a loud crash and a groan. If Harry hurt her, Luc would have to kill him.
He growled and the gathered crowd took a collective step back.
The sight before him caused Luc to smile for the first time in years.
A variety of glass lay shattered around them. But in the center, the waitress he didn’t hire had Harry face down on the floor and his arms pinned behind his back, her knee on his rear so he couldn’t move. She had his right hand twisted in hers, which was the main source of Harry’s pain.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry!” Harry cried. “I promise, I’ll never do it again. I’m drunk, and swear I wasn’t thinking.”
“There’s no excuse for that kind of behavior,” the waitress chastised. “Would you do that to your mother?”
Harry blanched. “No ma’am.”
“That’s right. You’d do well to remember that the next time you have an urge to pinch a woman on the ass. What are you, some kind of animal?”
Luc chuckled. “That’s enough.” He made his voice gruff.
Trouble’s head popped up and her startled green eyes blinked as if she just remembered where she was
“Sorry,” she said. “I may have over-reacted slightly.” She straightened her shirt and skirt, which had twisted around her long legs.
“She kicked me in the nuts and did some Judo thing on me,” Harry complained as he pulled himself in a fetal position.
“Chris!” Luc bellowed.
“Yes, boss.” The man was beside him before he’d finished saying his name. Sometimes he forgot how good his friend was at anticipating almost any situation. It was part of his nature.
“Get this mess cleaned up, and somebody get Harry home before I beat the crap out of him.”
He turned his attention back to the waitress. “You,” he thumbed, “in the kitchen now!”
She didn’t flinch even a little and Luc respected her for it. Lifting her chin, she stepped gingerly around the broken glass and headed to the back of the bar.
“It wasn’t her fault,” said the man who’d been sitting at Harry’s booth. “He didn’t just pinch her. He grabbed her…chest.”
A murderous rage stormed over Luc and the anger he’d tamped down for years boiled inside of him. Those around him must have sensed the shift because they backed away. Harry, who was still on the floor, crawled under the table.
Luc pointed a finger at him. “I see you in here again and I’ll make you into a stew.” He threatened. The stench of urine coming from Harry disgusted him. “Get. Him. Out. Of. Here.” He growled.
The Cress boys moved in front of Luc and grabbed Harry, pulling him out from under the table. “We got it. Ms. Ainsley is waiting for you in the kitchen.”
Ainsley? The unusual name fit her.
Luc wasn’t sure if he should kill her or applaud her. He abhorred violence. Even though everyone in town thought he’d killed men by the dozens. But that wasn’t the case by far.
This mysterious woman was tough, but she was human. Even though his instincts screamed to touch her, he would never do it. Humans were much too fragile for his kind.
No. He had to send her away. That one was nothing but trouble and he didn’t need complications like heavenly green eyes, and a body that made grown men weep, prancing around his bar like a lost princess.
No. He didn’t need that at all.
Chapter Three
Ainsley’s stomach growled. It had been almost a day since she’d eaten. At the airport she’d been too concerned about being followed. And since airlines required credit cards to purchase meal boxes in coach, she wouldn’t take the chance of buying something on the plane, lest the transaction be tracked.
Where was the bar owner? She’d been sitting at the steel counter for at least five minutes waiting for the big, burly Luc to fire her. Tough to do since he’d never hired her.
Was he some kind of sadist who got off on dragging out the torture? She’d been doing so well. It was back breaking work but she’d picked it up quickly, despite the pain from her accident seeping in. Her excellent memory helped.
If only she could forget the conversation she’d heard between her uncle and brother. Fiery words about embezzlement and that she’d seen the numbers. That she’d have to be dealt with in some way. Her brother had been furious with their uncle. But was he just as guilty? Were they the ones who had tried to kill her?
She closed her eyes and pushed the memory away. There would be time later on to figure out a plan. Right now she was safe. No way in hell anyone would track her here. They all thought of her as too much of a princess.
But she had a steely will to overcome adversity. She’d proven that when she’d driven like a maniac to lose the guys who’d shot at her.
Hands trembling, she opened her eyes again. Focus on the now. She remembered her dad always saying, “Be where you are.” That advice definitely applied to her current situation. Until she could figure out who she could trust at home in California, she had to make the best of her life here. Unfortunately, her wicked fast reflexes may have lost her the only job possibility she had.
Glancing around the kitchen, she was surprised to find it sterile and clean. The complete opposite of the bar on the other side of the swinging doors. But it was the smell that killed her. A hearty stew simmered on the gleaming silver stove. She was about to pass out from the delicious aroma of freshly baked bread.
“When was the last time you ate?”
“Eeek.” She jumped and would have tumbled to the floor if strong arms hadn’t reached out to steady her.
“You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that,” she complained, and then remembered that she had to be nice to the big bear of a man if she wanted the job. “Sorry. I’m a little jumpy after what happened.”
He let go of her and she missed the heat from his hands on her arm. He strode to the other side of the counter and stirred the pot on the stove.
“Answer my question.”
She searched her mind. “Oh, uh. I had three peanut butter cookies for breakfast yesterday,” she said honestly. That with a huge cup of coffee was her breakfast of choice.
Luc spooned a large serving of stew into a bowl and sat it before her on a plate with a slice of the bread.
Her stomach chose that moment to do an odd groan with a watery swishing sound at the end.
Embarrassed, she sipped the stew off the spoon and closed her eyes as the warmth slipped across her tongue. The beef broth had been perfectly seasoned with garlic, a dash of cayenne and something she couldn’t quite place.
“Is that ginger?” She opened her eyes to find him watching her.
“Yes.” The surprise on his face made her smile.
There were a great many attributes she didn’t have, but Ainsley knew food. In all things edible, she was an expert.
“Adds the unexpected, and at the same time blends the flavors in a way that is addictive. I could eat the entire pot.”
“You’re welcome to whatever you want,” he said gruffly. “But then I need you to leave.”
Even though she’d known it was coming, it hurt.
> Placing the spoon beside the bowl, she ducked her head and absently rubbed her sore side. Nothing went her way lately, why did she think this Podunk town would give her a break?
She cleared her throat and lifted her head. Forcing the tears that burned her eyes back, she blinked several times.
“I understand what I did was wrong. I shouldn’t have laid him out like that. It was instinct from years of self-defense training. My dad was kind of a stickler about it. I have a black belt in Judo and I just wasn’t thinking,” she said honestly. Given how badly her body was starting to hurt, she was surprised that she had been able to even execute the moves—especially against grown men. Then again, she’s been running on pure adrenaline for hours.
His face was a mask. “I don’t blame you for what you did. He deserved it. But I don’t like violence in the bar. If you have trouble, you come to me and I take care of it.”
“Does that mean I can stay?” she said hopefully.
His eyebrow went up. “No. Eat and then you need to get as far away from this town as you can.” Placing the dishtowel he’d been holding on the counter he turned away to put the lid on the pot.
“I can’t,” her voice trembled. If he turned her out, she’d have to go the deputy and ask him to put her in jail. And she was worried the more time she spent there, the better the chance he might figure out who she really was. “I don’t have anywhere to go.”
“Lady, those are eight hundred dollar designer shoes you have on. That blouse is worth a couple hundred and the skirt is probably twice that.”
Who was this guy? The fashion police? “I’m not sure how you know all that, but these are the only clothes I own. If I sell them I’m going to be very cold,” she said. “I have this outfit and about fifty bucks. I crashed my truck and it’s going to cost more than two thousand dollars to fix. And I can’t go back to where I used to live because it isn’t safe for me there.” She hadn’t meant to say so much but the words tumbled out.
His head whipped around.
“Someone tried to hurt you?” The threat in his voice sent a slight tremor through her.
Lions, Tigers, and Sexy Bears, Oh My! Page 2
