Yeah, he used to. For the most part, he still would. “Guess this cop is different.”
“Or,” Avery said with emphasis, studying him, picking him apart in profound ways, “it only seems that way because you’re now different.”
Son of a bitch. The truth stunned Rowdy. Yeah, since Logan and Reese had obliterated the biggest threat against his sister, he was different.
Funny that only Alice and Avery had ever dared enough, or cared enough, to analyze his motives. It bugged the hell out of him that Alice did it.
But with Avery... “Damn, woman.” Appreciating her insight, Rowdy trailed the backs of his fingers over a long hank of silky hair. “I just realized that you missed your calling.”
She put a theatrical hand to her chest. “You’re saying I’m not meant to be a waitress in a sleazy, broke-dick bar about to go under?”
Broke-dick? He grinned. She really was feeling sassy tonight. He liked it. He liked her. Maybe too much.
“Nope.” He wanted to swing her off her feet. He wanted to kiss her the way she needed kissing. But the new, different Rowdy restrained himself. “You’re meant to be the bartender.”
“I...” She eyed him. “The bartender?”
Ignoring her confusion, Rowdy again surveyed the crowd, this time bypassing the customers and instead taking note of the structure, the furniture, improvements that could be made.
A good cleaning and fresh paint would go a long way in making the place less seedy. More appropriate lighting. A little rearranging to better utilize space...
“You think I should be the bartender?” Avery waved that damned glass like a spotlight. “Here?”
“Absolutely.” She might not advertise it, but Avery had a take-charge air stemming from independence instead of arrogance. She presented a great appearance without flaunting her body, and somehow drew more attention because of it. She listened, heard things and had a grasp on the customer base, as just proven with her observations.
“You’re delirious.” She patted his chest in dismissal. But once her hand connected with his body, the pat turned to a curious caress—until she caught herself and quickly withdrew.
Rowdy felt his interest expand. “We could continue that in private.”
“Yeah, uh...” She cleared her throat. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’m working.”
And that was her only reason for turning him down this time? Though he’d hopefully hidden it, her touch almost leveled him—and made him more determined to have his way. “I think you’ll love being bartender—once the place changes from broke-dick to thriving.”
“I hardly think that’s possible.”
“Should we make a bet?” Finally, he had another cause. And this one would be no less challenging than uncovering the threat to Alice Appleton. He felt a rush of adrenaline and couldn’t wait to make plans.
Nose in the air, Avery said, “I’m not a gambler,” and she started away.
Catching her by the apron strings, Rowdy hauled her back around. “Where can I find the proprietor?”
“Usually anywhere but here.” She let out a strained breath, saw he was dead serious and nodded toward the back rooms. “Tonight you’re in luck.”
Luck, fate, whatever. He’d take it, especially when it came hand in hand with Avery. “Perfect, thanks.” He started to turn away.
This time she drew him back by grabbing a handful of his T-shirt. “What are you going to do?”
He planned to do all sorts of things, most especially to this particular woman. Rowdy took the glass away from her and set it on the table.
“Rowdy...” she warned.
Grinning, honest-to-God happy, he caught her upper arms and lifted her to her tiptoes. Her soft lips parted on a gasp, then softened more when he pressed his mouth to hers. Keeping the kiss light wasn’t easy, not when she tasted so good and felt so...right.
“That’s number three,” he breathed against her mouth. “Not all that satisfying, I know, but if my offer gets accepted, I promise to improve on that soon.”
Her heavy eyes brightened. “Your offer?”
Almost by rote, she fought the chemistry. Once he saw her on a more regular basis, he’d find a way past her reservations. “Do me a favor and stick around tonight. I can’t very well promote you if you keep dodging me.”
She laughed. “And you figure to promote me...how?”
“I’m going to buy the place.”
Her eyes rounded and her mouth opened, but she held silent. Yeah, he liked that reaction.
Rowdy chucked her under the chin. “Let me take care of business, and then we can discuss your new salary.” He leaned closer to say, “You’re going to like working for me, Avery. You have my word on that.”
As he walked away, he heard the loud release of her pent-up breath, and then a low snarl of frustration.
He didn’t look back—but he did grin in triumph.
Soon, Avery Mullins. Very, very soon.
* * *
DISGUISED BY THE shadows in the bar, the man stood back against the wall, watching as Karia moved toward the prey. Her hesitation pissed him off, but she’d learn. He’d see to it.
Finally, her mouth quivering with nervousness, she approached the bar. Sitting on a stool, she turned to face the room and leaned back on her elbows—just as he’d instructed.
Dougie, the bartender, glanced at her back—at the tattoo visible on her shoulder, and gave a small smile. He moved down the bar to speak quietly with a group of men.
“Or,” Avery said with emphasis, studying him, picking him apart in profound ways, “it only seems that way because you’re now different.”
Son of a bitch. The truth stunned Rowdy. Yeah, since Logan and Reese had obliterated the biggest threat against his sister, he was different.
Funny that only Alice and Avery had ever dared enough, or cared enough, to analyze his motives. It bugged the hell out of him that Alice did it.
But with Avery... “Damn, woman.” Appreciating her insight, Rowdy trailed the backs of his fingers over a long hank of silky hair. “I just realized that you missed your calling.”
She put a theatrical hand to her chest. “You’re saying I’m not meant to be a waitress in a sleazy, broke-dick bar about to go under?”
Broke-dick? He grinned. She really was feeling sassy tonight. He liked it. He liked her. Maybe too much.
“Nope.” He wanted to swing her off her feet. He wanted to kiss her the way she needed kissing. But the new, different Rowdy restrained himself. “You’re meant to be the bartender.”
“I...” She eyed him. “The bartender?”
Ignoring her confusion, Rowdy again surveyed the crowd, this time bypassing the customers and instead taking note of the structure, the furniture, improvements that could be made.
A good cleaning and fresh paint would go a long way in making the place less seedy. More appropriate lighting. A little rearranging to better utilize space...
“You think I should be the bartender?” Avery waved that damned glass like a spotlight. “Here?”
“Absolutely.” She might not advertise it, but Avery had a take-charge air stemming from independence instead of arrogance. She presented a great appearance without flaunting her body, and somehow drew more attention because of it. She listened, heard things and had a grasp on the customer base, as just proven with her observations.
“You’re delirious.” She patted his chest in dismissal. But once her hand connected with his body, the pat turned to a curious caress—until she caught herself and quickly withdrew.
Rowdy felt his interest expand. “We could continue that in private.”
“Yeah, uh...” She cleared her throat. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’m working.”
And that was her only reason for turning him down this time? Though he’d hopefully hidden it, her touch almost leveled him—and made him more determined to have his way. “I think you’ll love being bartender—once the place changes from broke-dick to thriving.”
“I hardly think that’s possible.”
“Should we make a bet?” Finally, he had another cause. And this one would be no less challenging than uncovering the threat to Alice Appleton. He felt a rush of adrenaline and couldn’t wait to make plans.
Nose in the air, Avery said, “I’m not a gambler,” and she started away.
Catching her by the apron strings, Rowdy hauled her back around. “Where can I find the proprietor?”
“Usually anywhere but here.” She let out a strained breath, saw he was dead serious and nodded toward the back rooms. “Tonight you’re in luck.”
Luck, fate, whatever. He’d take it, especially when it came hand in hand with Avery. “Perfect, thanks.” He started to turn away.
This time she drew him back by grabbing a handful of his T-shirt. “What are you going to do?”
He planned to do all sorts of things, most especially to this particular woman. Rowdy took the glass away from her and set it on the table.
“Rowdy...” she warned.
Grinning, honest-to-God happy, he caught her upper arms and lifted her to her tiptoes. Her soft lips parted on a gasp, then softened more when he pressed his mouth to hers. Keeping the kiss light wasn’t easy, not when she tasted so good and felt so...right.
“That’s number three,” he breathed against her mouth. “Not all that satisfying, I know, but if my offer gets accepted, I promise to improve on that soon.”
Her heavy eyes brightened. “Your offer?”
Almost by rote, she fought the chemistry. Once he saw her on a more regular basis, he’d find a way past her reservations. “Do me a favor and stick around tonight. I can’t very well promote you if you keep dodging me.”
She laughed. “And you figure to promote me...how?”
“I’m going to buy the place.”
Her eyes rounded and her mouth opened, but she held silent. Yeah, he liked that reaction.
Rowdy chucked her under the chin. “Let me take care of business, and then we can discuss your new salary.” He leaned closer to say, “You’re going to like working for me, Avery. You have my word on that.”
As he walked away, he heard the loud release of her pent-up breath, and then a low snarl of frustration.
He didn’t look back—but he did grin in triumph.
Soon, Avery Mullins. Very, very soon.
* * *
DISGUISED BY THE shadows in the bar, the man stood back against the wall, watching as Karia moved toward the prey. Her hesitation pissed him off, but she’d learn. He’d see to it.
Finally, her mouth quivering with nervousness, she approached the bar. Sitting on a stool, she turned to face the room and leaned back on her elbows—just as he’d instructed.
Dougie, the bartender, glanced at her back—at the tattoo visible on her shoulder, and gave a small smile. He moved down the bar to speak quietly with a group of men.
