Page 5 of Riding Dirty for Christmas

“Order up!” The kitchen bell dings behind me.

“Duty calls.” I straighten, but my eyes linger on her for a beat longer than necessary. I tap the bar in front of her. “Don't go anywhere. I'll work on that surprise.”

Her lips curve into a challenge.“We'll see if this lives up to the hype.”

I deliver pitchers and shots, wipe spills, and run tabs, but my attention keeps drifting to her corner. She pulls out her phone, thumbs flying across the screen before she sets it face-down with a sharp tap that I can read even from here.

Frustration. Her shoulders tense as she scans the room like she's looking for escape routes.

The whiskey sour sits untouched in front of her. She traces the rim of the glass with one finger, lost in thought. Even looking uncomfortable, she carries herself with a confidence that draws attention.

The guys at the pool table have noticed her too, but something in her posture warns them to keep their distance.

“Jaaaaack!” Carl waves an empty pitcher. “Another round!”

I'm mixing Carl's drinks when Tommy Miller stumbles up to her, red-faced and swaying.

“Eden? Eden Warren?” Tommy's voice carries over the crowd, his words slurring as he drops onto the stool beside her. “Holy shit, it is you! Haven't seen you since high school graduation!”

I watch Tommy wobble on his barstool as he leans too close to Eden, invading her personal space as he attempts what he probably thinks is a charming smile.

Her spine straightens like a steel rod's been inserted into it.

My jaw tightens. Tommy's harmless when sober, but drunk Tommy lacks boundaries.

“Remember that time in Bio when you dissected that frog?” Tommy leans in, his beer sloshing. “You were so squeamish, but I helped you cut it open.”

“Oh, great. A blast from the past I didn't ask for.” Eden shifts away, but Tommy scoots his stool closer.

“Aw, don't be like that! Remember that party at Mike's house?” Tommy's hand creeps toward her arm. “The one where you-”

Eden's knuckles whiten around her glass.

I'm already moving before I finish that thought, sliding between them with practiced ease.

“Hey Tommy, why don't you sit over there and enjoy your drink, buddy?” I gesture to an empty spot at the far end of the bar.

“Just catching up with an old friend...” Tommy protests, listing sideways.

“And now you're done.” I plant my feet. “Other seat. Now.”

Tommy's face darkens for a second, then he shrugs. “Whatever man, your loss.” He grabs his beer and stumbles toward the spot I indicated, muttering under his breath.

Eden.

The name hits me like a shot of whiskey - smooth and burning at the same time. I've been watching her all night without knowing her name, and somehow it fits her perfectly.

When I turn, her eyes meet mine. Something protective stirs in my chest, but I push it down.

She gives me a quick nod - silent thanks in the twist of her lips.

I shrug, grabbing a rag and wiping down the bar where Tommy had been. “Just doing my job. Can't have anyone making my customers uncomfortable.”

As I move down the bar to serve other customers, that little voice in my head whispers,You're full of it.Because the surge of protectiveness I felt when Tommy invaded her space had nothing to do with customer service.

I catch myself watching her again between orders. The Friday night rush has settled into a steady rhythm, leaving pockets of quiet between the chaos.

I make my way over, leaning against the bar closer than strictly necessary. Close enough to catch a hint of something expensive and floral beneath the perpetual smell of beer and fried food.

---