Page 14 of Just My Luck

A low whistle from the corner of the bar caught my attention. My younger brother Royal was perched on a stool with a beer in his hand.

I walked over and extended my hand. “What do you know?”

Royal shook it, then grabbed his beer and laughed before taking the last sip. “I know you’re in way over your head with that one.” He gestured toward Sloane.

Blood drained from my face, and I busied my hands with drying a pint glass. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Royal’s flat, playful stare burrowed under my skin as he smirked. “You’ve been eyeing her since you walked out here.”

I ignored him, mostly because it annoyed me he’d seen what I had been trying so hard to hide. “Are you staying? If you’re going to bug me, I’m making you pay tonight.”

Royal grinned and stood. “Wish I could, brother. Just popped in to say hello, but I’ve got work.” The tattoo business meant Royal worked odd hours. We shook hands one last time, and I watched as he exited the brewery. Eager eyes followed him toward the door. The friendly waves and happy handshakes were a stark contrast to the way people scattered when I walked by.

Just the way it goes.

I continued working behind the bar, all while sneaking glances in Sloane’s direction. Though she was efficient and friendly, I couldn’t help but think something seemed...off.Her shoulders bunched, and I nearly broke a glass in my grip when I saw her flinch at a casual touch from a tipsy customer. Instead of rounding the bar and beating the shit out of him, Sloane hadeffortlessly slinked away and successfully avoided his attention. Still, I watched him like a hawk.

Her face was pinched in a smile, but her eyes were dulled, flicking to the entrance as though she was expecting someone to walk through the door—that, or she was looking for an escape. Something was definitely up with her, and I couldn’t ignore the gnawing feeling that it was likely my fault. First I’d gawked at her and then inserted myself between her and her kids. I should have just left her alone, but for some reason I’d been compelled to help her. Gone was the defiant woman who radiated sunshine, and in her place was a mother who was struggling with her son’s very public meltdown.

I couldn’t not help her.

I sighed as I wiped spilled beer off the bar top.

I thought I was doing the right thing, but I swear if she quits, this place is screwed.

A loud crash sounded in the busy taproom, and my head whipped up in time to see Sloane nearly jump out of her skin. Her eyes were wide, and unexpected tears brimmed at their corners. It was only a busted beer glass that had been elbowed off a high-top table—it happened all the time.

I rounded the bar, swiping the mop and bucket as I went. “Reina,” I called, sliding the bucket and mop toward the spill. “A little help here?”

She nodded. “On it.”

I turned toward Sloane. “My office.” When she flinched at my tone, I softened. “Please.”

She barely nodded, but she moved past me and hurried across the room and down the hall to my office. I entered behind her, closing the door to give us a bit of privacy.

I raked a hand over the short hairs on the back of my head. “Sloane, is something—you seem... look, if this is about the other day?—”

“What?” Her eyes darkened as her eyebrows furrowed.

Jesus, she’s going to make me say it.

I gestured between us. “You seem uncomfortable, and if it’s because I saw you... you know...”

Realization flickered over her features before she barked out a laugh. “What? No. Oh my god. No.”

I paused, not expecting that reaction. I searched the ground, fumbling for what to say next.

“They’re just boobs.” Her laughter was directed at me, but I preferred it over the near-tears version of her from earlier. “It’s really okay, boss.”

“Don’t call me that.” I gritted my teeth. They were definitely not just boobs. I’d seen enough pairs to know that Sloane’s breasts were the perfect size and shape—so much so I’d even jerked myself off to the thought of how they might fit in my palm.

Fuck, I need to get myself together.

Sloane ignored me and folded her arms over her stomach. “I’m just off-kilter tonight.” Her neck rolled to stretch. “I can feel it.”

“Is everything okay?” I hoped my question came across as supportive and not like the prying jerk I was.

She huffed out a breath and tipped her face to the ceiling. I took the opportunity to steal a glance at the slender column of her neck. Her pulse thrummed at the base, and I imagined running my tongue over that exact spot.

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