dollar bills in a pile and shake my head. “I have plans.”
“What kind of plans?” Cohen asks.
“A double date with Lola.” I shove all my cash together and slip it into my purse.
“That’s fucking trouble,” Silas says, a smirk on his masculine face.
“At least it’s not a double date with Grace,” Finn comments with a booming laugh and a gleam in his eyes.
“I’d prefer it to be with Grace,” Cohen inputs. “Grace dates respectable guys who wait until marriage to have sex.”
“Boring,” I sing out, rolling my eyes.
Guys are dumb. They see Grace—strawberry-blonde hair, innocent smile, closet full of denim overalls and summer dresses—and think she’s some Virgin Mary. Grace doesn’t openly talk about sex, but it doesn’t mean she doesn’t have sex.
Lola, on the other hand, they see as the opposite—straight black hair, deviant smile, closet full of leather jackets and ripped jeans. She openly talks about sex, will give pointers, and creates play-by-plays on the best sex positions, if asked.
Cohen gets a phone call, holds his finger up, and make a beeline toward his office.
“Who’s the guy?” Finn asks, stealing one of my fries and shoving it into his mouth, cheese hitting the edge of his lips.
“A friend of the guy she’s dating.” I shrug.
Don’t know. Don’t care.
I’m not going for the guy.
I’m going for the distraction.
We’re going to a club, so it won’t be an intimate affair. A group of her friends from work is going, and I’m tagging along because my life is dullsville. I’ve become a rat on an endless wheel in the dating game. I swear off men, but then I go on these dates even though I’m not interested, nor do I have the time for a new relationship.
Again, the distraction.
The distraction from the brooding dude behind the bar.
“I suggest you ditch the date and work,” Archer says. “That’s what a responsible adult would do.”
I twist in my chair and glare in his direction. “Not everyone is all work, no play, and dull as ditchwater.”
“Whoa,” Silas says, smirking. “How dare you lie and say Archer isn’t fun?”
“We have no one else to work,” Archer fires back. “Cohen can’t. Silas requested off. You want to go on a date that’ll be lame. You lose.”
“First, it won’t be lame,” I argue. “And you have Trina.”
He’s stopped his cleaning, and I’ve stopped my eating. We’re staring each other down as we throw digs at the other.
“Trina is terrible behind the bar,” he points out. “Not to mention, if I stick her behind the bar, we’re down a waitress. How does that help?”
“You say I’m terrible behind the bar.” I twirl a strand of hair around my finger and raise a brow.
“Not as bad as her.” He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth before pointing at me. “You’re working. Cancel your little date,” he says, the last sentence turning more mocking with each word.
“That’s not fair,” I whine and then cringe at how childish I sound.
Archer throws his strong arms up. “Life isn’t fair, sweetheart. Consider this a life lesson.”
“Too bad you’re not my boss.” I grin and pop a fry into my mouth.
“Shots fired,” Finn calls out in the background, his hands cupped around his mouth.
Archer doesn’t oversee me in anything. Everything goes through my brother. Therefore, my brother is my boss and can tell me when I can and can’t work.
“I’m not your boss, huh?” His face darkens in frustration. “Who owns this place?”
“You and my brother. I consider him my boss. Not you.”
“Let me get this straight. You want the bar to be short-staffed so you can do who knows what with some random asshole?”
He taps the side of his cheek, over his stubble, and my legs squeeze together. Even after all this time, I remember what the scruff felt like, rubbing along my inner thighs, marking me.
I cross my arms, hyperaware all attention is glued on us. “Are you mad because I can’t work or because I’m going on a date?” I turn to Silas. “I’m sure you’re taking off to hit the clubs.”
Silas holds up his hands and retreats backward. “It’s my brother’s bachelor party, babe. We’re hitting up Vegas.”
I switch my attention to my next victim. “Finn?”
He shakes his head. “Working the door.”
“Looks like it’s you and me,” Archer states flatly. “See you tomorrow—and that’s from your boss.”
A soulless smile crosses his lips, setting me on fire. When he steps around the bar and stalks toward his office, I’m hot on his heels. He doesn’t peer back at