Page 64 of Late Nights

20

Cannon

It had been three days since we’d gotten back from Lake Tahoe, and Demi and I were still not back to normal.

I sat on the far end of the bar, watching Demi work as she smiled at customers and made drinks like a pro.

Yep, I was still coming to The Bridger during her shifts, like a total sucker. She’d barely looked at me tonight, same as during her last shift on Monday night. I hated it. Although I only had myself to blame. I’d been giving her mixed signals since the day she’d moved in.

I’d flirted with her, found excuses to touch her, told her I had feelings for her and then kissed her. All signs I was interested in being more than friends. And then I’d gone and told her I couldn’t be with her, that I wanted to remain just friends. I understood why she was confused and probably hurt. Needing some space and time made complete sense.

I hated that I was the reason the brightness that usually accompanied her, the spark in her eyes, had dimmed. I had to admit that I was confused too, but seeing her like this seemed to prove to me even more that all I was capable of in the end was hurting her. She needed a guy who knew how to be what she needed, who knew how to accentuate her brightness, not take away from it.

I looked down into my drink, wishing the melting ice cubes that remained had some great advice written on them about how I could be that guy for her. The only thing my brain could latch onto was to keep her at a friendly distance, to keep us both safe.

The strong scent of a woman’s perfume hit my nose before the woman even slid onto the stool next to me.

Meeting women at the bar used to be an effective distraction for me, a way to keep any unwanted thoughts at bay. But now? Just the smell of the perfume made me sick.

“Hi, there,” the woman said, in what I assumed she thought—and probably most men would agree—was a sultry voice. Her dark hair was down, and she wore a skin-tight pink dress, showing way too much of her skin.

I wasn’t in the mood to be cordial, and I’d learned from experience that being nice didn’t get me the results I wanted, which right now was this woman leaving me alone.

“Hey, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m not interested.”

She smiled coyly, my words not seeming to bother her. “But you haven’t even heard what I have to offer yet.” She slowly slid her hand up my arm.

I shook her hand off. “I don’t need to. Whatever it is, the answer is no.”

I glanced over to where Demi was making a drink, wondering if she’d noticed a woman had joined me. Would she care? I assumed it would bother her, at least a little. Or maybe I hoped it would. Not because I wanted to make her jealous, but because I hoped she still cared about me enough to get a little jealous when I was with another woman. I definitely hated seeing her with any other guy.

The woman followed my gaze. “Ah, I see now. You have a thing for the pretty blonde bartender.”

I returned my attention back to my drink, draining the last of it.

“Oh,” the woman said, a little surprised. “Not a thing. You’re in love with her.”

I choked on the carbonated liquid going down my throat, almost spitting it out across the bar.

A throaty laugh escaped the woman as she patted me on the back. “Sorry I figured that out before you did.”

My throat stung, and my eyes watered. “I…I’m not in love with her,” I sputtered.

How in the heck could this woman who had only been sitting here for less than thirty seconds claim I was in love with Demi?

“Sure you’re not,” she said, like she was trying to hold back a laugh.

“You don’t even know me,” I scoffed. “How could you possibly know I’m in love with her? For all you know, she’s my sister.” I tried not to cringe at the use of that last word.

She let out a loud laugh, catching Demi’s attention, and I hoped she didn’t think I was flirting with this woman.

“For starters, because when you said the word sister, it was like ash on your tongue. And then, most obviously,” she punctuated the word, drawing my eyes from Demi to look at her instead, “the way you look at her.”

My jaw clenched in annoyance. I should have just gotten up and walked away, but I stayed seated, wanting to prove her wrong for some reason. “I won’t say I don’t care about her, but love? That is an emotion I am not capable of feeling.”

Her long pink nails tapped against the bar as she watched Demi. “She’s beautiful. I’ll give you that. She has a sweet aura about her.” There wasn’t a hint of jealousy in her tone.

“She’s an incredible woman,” I told her as we both continued to watch Demi work.

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