“Yet you’re still here,” Rowdy pointed out softly.
“Yes, sir. For the pay, which I need. But I’m not part of any of…” She waved toward the floor. “That.”
He ignored the “sir” business. “By choice?”
She dropped her head to the table with a thunk. Rowdy winced for her. She looked tired and a little fed up.
Unable to resist, he ran his fingers through the dark ropes of red hair spilling over the table. Warm, thick, silky.
Was she a true redhead?
Something primal in his nature gave him a real weakness for petite women. For a redhead…yeah, he was a goner.
Without raising her head, she snagged his wrist, lifted it away from her hair, and sat up.
She maintained her hold on his thick wrist. Her slender fingers didn’t quite circle all the way around him.
Rowdy didn’t object, and she didn’t let go. The physical connection felt more intimate than it should have.
Anticipating what she’d say or do next, he watched her.
She met his gaze squarely. “On the off chance that you might be a buyer for the…establishment, I want you to understand that I’m too short, too lacking in curves and far too modest to ever do justice to any stage performance.”
“You think?” Because he didn’t. “You could audition and let me make that decision—”
Cutting him off, she held up her free hand. “And if you’re not a buyer, then know that I have no interest in flirting, the nuances of sexy banter elude me, and no way, ever, would I date anyone from this bar—regardless of how attractive he might be.”
Date? He didn’t date. No time and no interest. He said only, as a taunt, “Bet I could change your mind.”
She made a funny sound. “Take a look around, sir. Plenty of other women are hoping you’ll notice them. I’m sure they’ll provide an easier route for your intentions.”
She didn’t know his intentions, and he didn’t look, because he didn’t care. “I think you’re attractive, too.”
That gave her pause. She glanced down at her person and made a face. “I was going for something altogether different.”
“Like?”
“Perhaps plain, uninteresting. Maybe even invisible.”
So the clothes she wore were supposed to…hide her? He again took in her shoes which, despite being unadorned, were still feminine, almost like dainty little ballet slippers. The straight-legged jeans, likely new, showed the length of her legs. And that crew-necked T-shirt, even being a little big, displayed the narrowness of her bone structure and the soft swell of her br**sts.
Whatever her intent, she made an enticing, overall package. Small, female, understated.
But with that dark red hair…
Intriguing.
That made him frown. Did Logan look at his sister like that? Did he see beyond Pepper’s outward image?
It wasn’t at all the same thing, given this woman only downplayed her looks instead of attempting to conceal them. But his sister…
“I’m glad we were able to clear all that up.” Mistaking his silence for lack of interest, she stood. “So would you like a drink or not? And believe me, if you give the wrong answer this time, I’ll leave and let another waitress deal with you.”
Not for a second did he believe that, but he played along. “I’ll take a beer.”
“Of course. I’ll bring that to you right away.”
On impulse, he sat forward. “Let me ask you something first.”
She cocked her hip in a stance ripe with attitude. “I have other tables to wait on.”
“I’ll double your tip if give me the truth.”
“Truly?” Her eyes gleamed. “I promise not to sugarcoat a single word.”
She hadn’t pulled her punches, so he believed her. “Is this getup meant to turn off guys, to maybe cover your assets?” As his sister tried to do. “Or is this how you usually dress?”
For several seconds she studied him, probably trying to figure out his angle.
Not in a million years would she even come close.
She gave in without any fuss. “I started here a few weeks ago. Other than the apron, there isn’t a dress code, so I wore my regular wardrobe, which, believe me, isn’t designed to beguile.”
Interesting. “No low-cut tops or miniskirts or anything like that, huh?”
“I’m casual clothes all the way.”
If the clothes came from her everyday attire, did that mean she didn’t own any low-cut tops or miniskirts? If so, it’d be a pity. Even being petite, she had long legs. He’d love to see them. Hell, he’d love to be between them. “So, the other women?”
“I believe they dress to get tips.” She showed not a single sign of judgment.
So her derision was aimed only at the male customers, not the female workers? By the second, his interest grew. “Dressing sexier works for them?”
“Yes, it does, but it also comes with a lot of extra hassle.”
Spoken like a woman who knew. “In your regular clothes, you got hit on?”
She didn’t confirm or deny that. “I decided it’d be better to discourage interest as much as I could.”
Rowdy didn’t bother telling her that all she’d done—at least for him—was stimulate his curiosity. “So this—” he nodded at her body “—is your attempt to dial down the sex appeal?”
“Yes, sir. For the pay, which I need. But I’m not part of any of…” She waved toward the floor. “That.”
He ignored the “sir” business. “By choice?”
She dropped her head to the table with a thunk. Rowdy winced for her. She looked tired and a little fed up.
Unable to resist, he ran his fingers through the dark ropes of red hair spilling over the table. Warm, thick, silky.
Was she a true redhead?
Something primal in his nature gave him a real weakness for petite women. For a redhead…yeah, he was a goner.
Without raising her head, she snagged his wrist, lifted it away from her hair, and sat up.
She maintained her hold on his thick wrist. Her slender fingers didn’t quite circle all the way around him.
Rowdy didn’t object, and she didn’t let go. The physical connection felt more intimate than it should have.
Anticipating what she’d say or do next, he watched her.
She met his gaze squarely. “On the off chance that you might be a buyer for the…establishment, I want you to understand that I’m too short, too lacking in curves and far too modest to ever do justice to any stage performance.”
“You think?” Because he didn’t. “You could audition and let me make that decision—”
Cutting him off, she held up her free hand. “And if you’re not a buyer, then know that I have no interest in flirting, the nuances of sexy banter elude me, and no way, ever, would I date anyone from this bar—regardless of how attractive he might be.”
Date? He didn’t date. No time and no interest. He said only, as a taunt, “Bet I could change your mind.”
She made a funny sound. “Take a look around, sir. Plenty of other women are hoping you’ll notice them. I’m sure they’ll provide an easier route for your intentions.”
She didn’t know his intentions, and he didn’t look, because he didn’t care. “I think you’re attractive, too.”
That gave her pause. She glanced down at her person and made a face. “I was going for something altogether different.”
“Like?”
“Perhaps plain, uninteresting. Maybe even invisible.”
So the clothes she wore were supposed to…hide her? He again took in her shoes which, despite being unadorned, were still feminine, almost like dainty little ballet slippers. The straight-legged jeans, likely new, showed the length of her legs. And that crew-necked T-shirt, even being a little big, displayed the narrowness of her bone structure and the soft swell of her br**sts.
Whatever her intent, she made an enticing, overall package. Small, female, understated.
But with that dark red hair…
Intriguing.
That made him frown. Did Logan look at his sister like that? Did he see beyond Pepper’s outward image?
It wasn’t at all the same thing, given this woman only downplayed her looks instead of attempting to conceal them. But his sister…
“I’m glad we were able to clear all that up.” Mistaking his silence for lack of interest, she stood. “So would you like a drink or not? And believe me, if you give the wrong answer this time, I’ll leave and let another waitress deal with you.”
Not for a second did he believe that, but he played along. “I’ll take a beer.”
“Of course. I’ll bring that to you right away.”
On impulse, he sat forward. “Let me ask you something first.”
She cocked her hip in a stance ripe with attitude. “I have other tables to wait on.”
“I’ll double your tip if give me the truth.”
“Truly?” Her eyes gleamed. “I promise not to sugarcoat a single word.”
She hadn’t pulled her punches, so he believed her. “Is this getup meant to turn off guys, to maybe cover your assets?” As his sister tried to do. “Or is this how you usually dress?”
For several seconds she studied him, probably trying to figure out his angle.
Not in a million years would she even come close.
She gave in without any fuss. “I started here a few weeks ago. Other than the apron, there isn’t a dress code, so I wore my regular wardrobe, which, believe me, isn’t designed to beguile.”
Interesting. “No low-cut tops or miniskirts or anything like that, huh?”
“I’m casual clothes all the way.”
If the clothes came from her everyday attire, did that mean she didn’t own any low-cut tops or miniskirts? If so, it’d be a pity. Even being petite, she had long legs. He’d love to see them. Hell, he’d love to be between them. “So, the other women?”
“I believe they dress to get tips.” She showed not a single sign of judgment.
So her derision was aimed only at the male customers, not the female workers? By the second, his interest grew. “Dressing sexier works for them?”
“Yes, it does, but it also comes with a lot of extra hassle.”
Spoken like a woman who knew. “In your regular clothes, you got hit on?”
She didn’t confirm or deny that. “I decided it’d be better to discourage interest as much as I could.”
Rowdy didn’t bother telling her that all she’d done—at least for him—was stimulate his curiosity. “So this—” he nodded at her body “—is your attempt to dial down the sex appeal?”
