Page 46 of Charger

Lucy is running around here like a mad woman and I love her for it. The chick knows how to work her ass off. Owning your own place can be tough, that’s for sure, so having the right people to work for you is key. And you might just gain some friends along the way. Like Joe, who’s in his usual spot. Maybe he’ll eventually meet the woman of his dreams, sitting here every night. It kind of hurts, seeing him lonely all the time at my bar.

“Need a refill, Joe?”

“Nah, I’m good, honey.”

Two men sit down a couple of seats from Joe. Loud, laughing, drunk. The one barely made it into his seat. I’ll be cutting them off soon. The other flags me down with a wave of his hand, whistling like I’m a damn dog. He’s clearly lacking manners. Showing off a fake smile, I approach them while he scans my body, lingering on my chest longer than welcomed.

I snap my fingers. “How about I get you two some water, yeah?” They both laugh. The one with a fascination for my breasts, and disgusting teeth, slurs out his words.

“No, dollface, we would like two more Millers and bring us two shots of Crown.”

“I can do two beers and two waters, no shots. Deal?” Negotiating and compromising—the best solution, being a bar owner (and bartender for that matter). Lucy walks by juggling her tray and he slaps her ass. She shakes her head, but keeps walking, mumbling asshole under her breath. “And no touching my waitresses.” My politeness takes a plunge. The guy holds his hands up in surrender then slouches into the seat, licking his lips at me.

Gross.

As I fill the glasses with water for the two asshats, someone walks into the bar. Not just someone, Zach. It happens like something out of a movie. Slow motion. His large frame, muscled everything, leather… before his blue eyes connect with mine. Why is he here?

“Shit.” I dab the puddle of water, which accidently spilled over the cups, with a towel just as he plants his hands on the counter.

“You never answered my text.” His eyes are glued to mine. I finish wiping up the spill, then crack open the two beers. My body feels weak, powerless. Whenever he’s around, it’s like everything goes out the window with a toss of a hat. There go my morals, toss. My confidence over telling him to go fuck himself, toss. What I really want to do is jump on him… have him take me. Right here. Right now.

“Yes, I’m aware of that. It was kind of on purpose.” Juggling the glasses, I place them in front of the rude men.

“Thanks, dollface, it’s always nice to get served by such a fine piece of ass.”

Zach’s head whips in their direction, and I swear if this were a cartoon, it would have flown off his body. He gives them each one hell of a nasty glare. His jaw ticks. But, by some miracle, he ignores the comment and sits down. A sigh of relief leaves my body.

“Zach, what are you doing?”

“What’s it look like I’m doing? I would like a beer, please.” He emphasizes the word please. I pop my lips, giving him a stern look. His forearms rest on the counter. His tattooed, muscular forearms. “I’m just here to see you, have a beer, and talk.”

Joe looks at him, then to me.

“Old acquaintance,” I explain, trying to reassure him I don’t need a rescue. “I can’t talk right now. Clearly, I’m working.”

“Uh, excuse me, dollface.” The rude guy laughs, swinging his empty bottle back and forth in the air. I would love to take the bottle from his grubby hand and whip it at his face. I give him an irritated look, and I’m about five minutes away from throwing him out, when Zach starts to lose his cool. He cracks his neck.

“Yes?” I grunt.

“Can we get another beer? Seems we ran out.” He’s sneering, showing off the fact that he’s never been to a dentist.

“I’m sorry but you two have had enough. So, take your pick: water with or without lemon.” His face turns cold, all playfulness gone. Staring at me with his glazed over eyes, he stumbles to a stand.

“Listen here…”

“Sit. Down.” Zach’s voice carries over the music, each word drawn out. He says it with such a demand, but also a calmness. His fingers flex around his beer bottle, turning his knuckles white.

“I’ll sit down when this little bitch shows me some respect. Now, I said I want another beer, so get me another beer.” He moves forward, trying to grab my arm, but Zach is out of his seat in seconds. The guy falls back, landing ass-first in the stool. Zach towers over the man, his hand resting on the counter. Zach’s other hand grips the stool behind the drunken asshole. Only inches from the guy’s face, Zach is every bit as intimidating as I remember.

Joe spins himself around, watching the scene unfold. Some others are in the distance, also watching. Me? I’m not surprised. Zach has always been one to stand up for me, even now, six years later.

“You’re done. Now, get the fuck out.” His stare is intense, his eyes filled with rage.

The guy’s Adam’s apple dips up and down as he rises hesitantly. “Yeah, man. We were just leaving.” Zach straightens, watching until they are both out the door. Lucy is staring… or salivating? I can’t tell which one. Maybe both. He turns his muscled body back to me, connecting us in a powerful moment. His eyes don’t leave mine. No, Jules, you do not want to jump over the bar and tackle him. Let him devour you. Rip every piece of clothing off your body. You do not want to feel his hands running over every inch of your naked body.

I pull my bottom lip with my teeth and he raises a brow.

Damn, it’s hot in here.

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