by Tracy Lauren
“Yes, please.” I realize I have not eaten since I departed from my ship and I am exceptionally hungry. “Street tacos?”
“Coming right up,” she answers, tying on a black apron that accentuates her full and rounded breasts. The sight makes me frown. There are many males and females sitting at the bar. They will all be able to admire Carly’s curves. It brings out a jealousy in me that I didn’t know I was capable of.
Carly sets a few dishes out across the bar, saying hello to people and leaning in to shout over the noise. I can’t make sense of the conversations she has; it’s far too loud. Eventually she looks over, points to the bowls in front of me, and makes an eating motion.
Oh. Perhaps this is the food she was talking about? Though it doesn’t look like much. I scrutinize what is before me. One bowl is small, with a wet green substance inside and the other has a large paper lining. Setting atop the paper are…hard chips of some kind? I don’t know what they could be made of. A thin wood? I look down the bar and watch other patrons dipping the hardened chips into the green stuff and then eating it. I shrug and give it my best shot.
When the food reaches my mouth I am pleasantly surprised. I am not familiar with the flavor of the green mush, but it has a spice to it that I enjoy. Carly sets a glass in front of me. The liquid inside is golden and the top is frothed white.
“Food will be out in a minute,” she tells me.
“Then what is this?” I ask, motioning toward what I’ve been eating.
“Just an app to hold you over—chips and guac. Enjoy your beer,” she tells me, getting back to work…and her work is unrelenting. There is always a drink needing to be filled. Or a male interested in flirting with her. It makes me jealous. I want to be the one conversating with her. Doubly so, because every time we speak, Carly has to lean in close and shout into my ear so that I might hear her. And I like the closeness. Not to mention the view of her breasts pressing up against the bar. But there are many waiting on their drinks and she moves from patron to patron, filling their orders for alcohol.
My food comes shortly thereafter. “Street tacos,” Carly confirms.
It looks like a variety of meats atop small, flat, bread rounds, with diced vegetables of some kind. There is no utensil to eat with so I venture a guess and scoop the meat up with the flat breads. This course also proves to be spicy and it pairs well with the beer Carly provided. I finish my drink quickly and find that I am sweating. This is more heat than I’m used to in a meal, but it is an enjoyable change.
And then I notice a small orange fruit on the side of my plate. Tentatively I give it a sniff, unsure of how I should go about eating it. When I look up I see Carly watching me with an amused smile on her pretty face. I shrug at the small fruit and Carly gives me something of a challenging look. So? I toss the whole thing into my mouth.
My regret is almost instantaneous. The heat packed into this small bite is beyond anything I have ever tasted before in my life. I think I must have inadvertently eaten poison. But Carly is laughing, and she hurries to push a fresh beer into my hands. I drink down the contents eagerly, hoping to soothe the burn, but the combination makes me choke. It is only Carly’s amused expression that keeps me from thinking that I might die.
She moves around to my side of the bar, patting and soothing my back as I cough. “Are you okay?” She’s comforting for all that she’s still laughing at me. It makes me smile through my coughing fit.
“You’re trying to poison me,” I tease, when I recover enough to be able to speak.
“No one told you to eat that thing!”
“You most certainly gave me an encouraging look.”
She keeps her hand on my back, even though I’ve stopped coughing, and I wish suddenly, quite desperately, that she didn’t have to go back to work.
“That was my discouraging look,” she counters.
“I very much doubt that.”
“Okay, so maybe that was my I-don’t-care, do-whatever-you-want look.”
“I think it was your let’s-see-Dorran-piss-himself look.”
Carly tilts her head and gives me a warm smile. “It wasn’t that bad, was it?”
“It was certainly humbling.”
Carly looks around. “Don’t worry, I don’t think anyone saw but me. They’ll all still think you're some suave foreign stripper.”
I shift in my seat, so Carly stands before me. She’s close enough that I could hold her in place with my knees. “What if your opinion is the only one I care about?” I ask.
Carly leans in, I wait for her body to press against mine, but it never does. The only sensation I feel is her lips when they brush my ear. “Then I’d say you’re barking up the wrong tree, roomie.”
She pulls back, smiling at me. It sends heat flaring through my core. I want her. I want her so badly my hands twitch with the desire to pull her in. She’s looking into my eyes and even though she gave a cryptic response about trees and barking, I can tell there is something between us. There is, isn’t there? Or is she so intoxicating I can’t see the line where my desire ends.
“I’m being a terrible liaison, or whatever it is you want me to be. Aren’t I?”
“Not at all. I wish to take part in local cuisine. And there’s only been the one near-death experience.”
“You set the bar low, sir.”
“Or perhaps you shine in all the areas that matter?”
Carly rolls her eyes, but she doesn’t hide her smile. “I’ve got to get back to work,” she tells me.
“Okay.”
Her brows rise and she looks down at my knees. They’re positioned tightly on either side of her hips. That wasn’t planned. Reluctantly, I release her and she gives me a smile over her shoulder as she returns to her place behind the bar.
Chapter 8
Carly
You know what they say, you play with habaneros and you’re bound to get burned. Feels like that’s exactly what I’m doing right now—working my way too close to the heat. I brought Dorran here to meet girls while I work, but all night long he’s sat at the bar, watching me. Smiling at me whenever I look in his direction.
I almost think he’s going to sit there all night, just waiting for me to clock out. And to be honest, it would earn him some points if he shows me he isn’t as much of a horn dog as he’s led me to believe. But the inevitable happens, because Dorran is stupid pretty. He’s eaten two servings of chips and guac by the time the seat next to him opens up and I couldn’t be less surprised when a hot blonde in a white mini dress swoops in and takes a seat next to him. Dorran still doesn’t take his eyes off me though.
Curious, despite my better judgment, I inch closer to his side of the bar. I want to know how this plays out. Sure enough, the blonde wastes no time before she leans in close to his ear. I can’t quite hear her, but she points to the seat as if to make sure he wasn’t saving it for someone. I try not to roll my eyes. Such a common way to start a conversation at the bar. Unimaginative, really. I see it a hundred times every night that I work. But I guess when you’ve got a banging body and a stark white mini dress, you don’t have to be imaginative.
I inch closer still, pretending that I’m wiping down the counter.
“You come here often?” the blonde asks.
Ugh. It’s like she doesn’t have an original bone in her body. But the second I think that, I mentally chastise myself. Why do I care who Dorran flirts with? I don’t! I definitely don’t! I just met the man.
Still…my eyes keep wandering over to them as they talk. Shameless hussy is already leaning against him, touching his arm. I’m actively trying not to stare, when someone bumps into me hard from behind.
“Whoa.” I round on the offender and obviously, fucking obviously…it’s Andrea. My mortal enemy for whatever fucking reason—I sure as hell don’t know. She’s fine with the rest of the bartenders and waitresses, but she’s hated me from day one.
“Watch your step, four eyes,” she spits.
“You call people
‘four eyes’ if they wear glasses, Andrea.” And here I am—no glasses. Never worn a pair a day in my life.
“Huh, I thought it was a blanket term for all nerds.”
Andrea is a born and bred local. Never went to college. No aspirations beyond this gig, tending bar. And believe me, I’ve got zero judgment over that life decision. But still, she acts like I’m a caricature of all that’s wrong with the world. An out-of-town college girl, come to take all the jobs, drive up the housing market, and in one way or another destroy all of Santa Barbara. Forget that I love this city. All that matters in her eyes is that I’m some too-smart-for-her-own-good college grad. And she loves that even with my degree I still ended up tending bar.
“They don’t teach you how to walk in college?”
“First of all, you bumped into me. Second of all, no. No, they don’t teach you how to walk in college.”
Andrea scowls at me. “Just make sure you aren’t crowding my space,” she warns. I roll my eyes.
“Whatever, Andrea.”
I give the witch my back, taking no pleasure in pointing out her stupidity. And that’s when I see Dorran, with a very confused expression on his face, in the midst of an argument with the blonde in the white mini dress.
“Aw, shit.” I hurry over, eyeing her drink of choice. “Lemon drop martini? Let me get you another one, on the house.”
She looks up at me, her angry expression still lingering. “Thanks, I’d love one. I’ll meet you at the other end of the bar.”
She shoots Dorran one last look of disgust and tosses her hair before marching away.
“What the hell was that about?” I ask him, but the poor guy just looks so confused.
“I don’t know! She was angry though, wasn’t she?”
“Well, what’d you say to her?”
“She asked how tall I was.” He shrugs.
“And?”
“So I told her.”
“And then?”
“I asked how tall she was.”
“Uh huh…”
“And I asked if she was self-conscious about her height.”
“Why’d you ask her that?”
“She was so quick to discuss height, then I noticed the prosthetics on her shoes.”
“Prosthetics?” I lean over the bar to get a look.
“Dorran…you mean her high heels?”
He shrugs. “If that is what you call them.”
“And that was it? Doesn’t really seem like something worth being angry over.”
“I asked to know her weight too.”
“You what?”
“She was concerned with size—I thought it was the next logical place to take the discussion. Though I cannot tell you why we were discussing size to begin with—she was the one who brought it up.”
I rake my hand over my face. “Dorran, no woman wants to be accused of being insecure. Nor does she want to share her weight with a stranger, even if she does have the body of a fitness instructor.”
“Well why did she come to me and start discussing these things if she did not wish to talk about them?”
I open my mouth to explain, but I hear a whistle from down the bar. Dorran and I both snap our heads toward the sound. There are two guys watching me expectantly, guys who’ve been around a couple of times before. They’re waving their empty beer glasses in my direction and I give them a nod in acknowledgement, but I’m not eager to help them out. They’re just shy of being full-on creepers. “Sorry, Dor, I’ll be back.”
“What do I do if another female talks to me?”
I give him a smile. “Talk back. You’re the one who said you were hoping to pick up a chick.”
“A chick?” he asks, completely befuddled.
“Don’t ask anyone how much they weigh!” I shout, heading down the bar to deliver the martini and to deal with the two local creeps.
Chapter 9
Dorran
That was the most negative interaction with a female I’ve ever had in my life. I cannot fathom why she led me into a conversation if she knew it was only going to make her angry. But to be honest, for whatever the reason, I’m glad she’s gone now. Carly and I had something of a game going on.
She would see how long she could go without looking at me, and I would give her my brightest smile each time she failed. Or at least, that is what we were doing in my head. Regor would knock me on my ass for wasting so much time. It isn’t like me to get side tracked when on a mission. Still, it’s hard to scope out prospective mates when Carly shines so brightly in comparison to the rest. And it becomes even more impossible when a couple of males at the far end of the bar begin leering at her.
My instincts kick me into high alert and I slide my beer aside, ready for… I do not know what. This world is different from those I normally traverse. I have no jurisdiction here. No reputation with the local authorities. It’s not like I can shove my blaster in some low-life’s face in the middle of this crowded bar. Not without consequences, of course. But the way they look at Carly makes the hair on the back of my neck rise. There’s something about these males that rubs me wrong. Perhaps it’s the way they stare at her breasts as they order their drinks—never bothering to look up into her eyes. Or perhaps it’s something beyond that, something that makes me think they are capable of bad things.
As the night progresses I find their behavior increasingly bothersome and I can see in the expression Carly wears that she does not like it either. She gravitates away from them so she does not get stuck in whatever unwelcome conversation they keep trying to suck her into. But she’s still forced to serve them, and these males in particular drink like fish. And, inevitably, the line is finally crossed.
Carly brings them their refilled glasses and one of them takes the opportunity to grab ahold of her wrist. She makes an attempt to pull away, but the male holds her a second longer than he should. And I am up in an instant, striding toward their end of the bar.
“What the fuck?” the male asks, when I grab him by the shoulder and spin him around. His eyes meet my chest first and have to travel up, up, up to meet my angry glare.
If I were on a space station I’d beat him within an inch of his life and have his unconscious body dragged to the docks. But I am on Earth and I must play things safely. I suppose I’ll have to deter his interest in Carly with…words maybe? And hells, if that doesn’t work, maybe I’ll still beat him within an inch of his life.
“That female there,” I tell him. “You are wasting your time. She is a lesbian.”
Both males’ eyes light up. “No fucking kidding? She eats pussy?”
My brows furrow as my translator brings to mind the image of some kind of furred pet. “No,” I explain. “I mean she does not find males appealing. You’re wasting time with her. Do yourself a favor and focus your energy elsewhere.”
“Maybe she just hasn’t found the right guy yet,” the other male puts in. I do not like the look of his greased and slicked back hair, nor do I like the scent of heavy perfumes coming off of him. I also do not like the insinuation that he is somehow capable of changing her preference, because if anyone could, it would be me…
“I don’t think it works that way,” I point out.
The one who laid his hand on Carly is about to speak when a loud and thumping music kicks on, making it impossible to converse in the already loud bar. So, I give a firm pat to each male, and a look that assures them that they learned a lesson from our talk, and I return to my seat.
Carly shoots a questioning gaze in my direction and trades out my empty glass for a full one. I give her my most charming smile, wishing I really could change her mind. But I know better. Still, there is something about this female. The way she looks at me, so intimately. It makes me feel as if we’ve been friends for many years, and not simply this afternoon.
We’re smiling at each other, enjoying one another’s company from across the bar, practically having an entire conversation with our eyes—when her gaze is suddenly ripped fro
m mine. She looks back to me in a hurry, her mouth hanging open in a troubled O. I follow her gaze across the crowded dance floor.
Near the DJ, who seems to be a music purveyor of some kind, there is a group of about half a dozen females dancing together. I look back to Carly, confused, but she nods at the females again, as if urging me.
Ah…she wishes for me to introduce myself to them. Or maybe she finds them attractive? All four of my hearts drop. I force myself to refocus my gaze on these females, but none of them catch my eye the way that Carly does. They are all beautiful in their own right, but not with the effortless class and grace that Carly seems to have in abundance. If I am to find a mate, I wish for her to be the loveliest this planet has to offer…and so far, none seem to compare to my lesbian roommate.
I watch these females absently, letting their scents find me. More than one is in heat. Which would usually leave my mouth watering, but for some reason? Not tonight. I’m just about to lose interest when the real reason Carly sent my attention in this direction becomes apparent.
Lingering on the outskirts of this group of females are the subpar males from the bar. It seems they took my advice and have indeed shifted their attention. And it happens to be squarely on the dancing females. Their approach is aggressive and the dancing quickly breaks up. But the one with the slicked back hair tries to coax a female back to the dance floor by putting his hands on her ass and dragging her close to him. She pushes at his chest, but he is stronger than she is.
Time for me to shut this down. I cross the dance floor in the span of a breath and bring that despicable male to the ground before he has time to think, let alone react. The music scratches to a halt and I look up to see a fist flying at my jaw. It connects, but I hardly feel a thing beyond annoyance. I scowl at the fool who tried to hit me. Something about my expression must be telling because he hesitates after that and it isn’t more than a second later that security is rushing to restrain him. But then, security tries to grab me as well.
