Page 20 of Rope Me In

She drags her gaze to meet mine as she picks up a lime. “Do you want me to cut all of these?”

Alright, change of subject. I can’t knock her for that, especially since I can relate to not wanting to talk about my feelings. “Just fill up all the containers. Then you can put the rest in the back fridge for later.”

The mention of the back room has her pink again. Jesus, this woman. How does she get embarrassed so easily? “Look, Presley,” I say, making sure I use her name and not an endearment. “I’m sorry about last night.”

She puts her hand up before I can continue. “It’s not a problem. I’d rather not talk about it.”

I blow out a sigh. “If that’s what you want.”

She nods, holding my gaze, though once again, I can tell she’s struggling to do it. Her pupils bounce around while she clenches her fists, and questions I want to ask her sit on the tip of my tongue. The biggest one? Why does a person who’s as shy as she is, who doesn’t seem to be one for small talk, move to a town like this and start working at a bar? It’s confusing. She’s confusing.

Fuck. Maybe I should have a drink. While the thoughts of her stopped my spiral over the drama that is my life, now I’m obsessing over her. I shouldn’t care about Presley or why she is the way she is. Yet I can’t seem to stop myself.

The boisterous laugh of one of our patrons makes Presley jump, and she breaks eye contact, moving back to the task of cutting limes. I watch her for a minute, her hands delicately grabbing the fruit before she slices into it. Her cuts aren’t perfect, and the wedges are all uneven, but she’s dedicated to her task. It reminds me of when I started working here and how mine looked even worse.

“I can teach you a trick to cut the wedges evenly if you want.”

She stops cutting and looks up. The corner of her mouth twitches as if she’s irritated, like I’ve offended her by offering to help. She places the knife down and wipes her fingers on her apron. “There’s a trick to cutting lime wedges?”

I chuckle. I don’t know if she meant to, but her tone was flat like she was calling me an asshole without actually saying it. It doesn’t bother me, but again, I’m trying to figure out why something as simple as saying I could teach her how to cut limes would be annoying.

“Look, you can cut them any way you want, but Jake had to teach me. Thought I could make it easier on you.”

She places her hands on her round hips and steps back. “Show away.”

I smirk again, inhabiting the spot she just occupied. When I pick up the knife, I find she’s standing off to the side, putting a large distance between us. “Can you see from there?”

Presley blinks, face burning bright again. Only now it’s not from embarrassment or shyness but clear irritation. I want to ask her what her deal is because I did nothing to make her angry in the last five seconds except offer her help. Huh. Maybe that’s the issue.

Before I can tell her to carry on how she was doing it, she puffs out a breath from between her teeth and steps closer—but still not close enough to see properly.

I grunt, now getting annoyed right back at her. “Get in here, woman. I need you to see what I’m doing.”

Her eyes harden. “Did you just call me ‘woman’?”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Calling her “woman” was a slipup. At least that’s what I’m telling myself. “Presley.” I say her name in hopes she’ll cut me some slack. “Please, I’m just trying to show you something.”

Jerry’s loud cackle draws my gaze to where he’s seated at the bar. I’d forgotten he was there, most likely watching our entire exchange. He tips his bottle at me as if he’s sayinggood luck with that onebefore he takes a drink.

When my focus moves back to Presley, she’s got her arms crossed over her chest. “Show me.”

With a slight shake of my head, I angle my body so she can see. “First, you want to cut the lime in half.”

“I know that. Anything else?”

Laughter bubbles in my chest, but I manage to tamp it down. Despite my annoyance, I like this fiery side of her. It’s better than the awkward and shy version. Feels more like I’m actually talking to her.

“Yep. Do you want to know the secret?”

Her foot taps on the floor, and for a second, I think she’ll say no. Then she surprises me by nodding.

“You have to cut a slit in the middle. That way, you can put it on the rim of the glass easier.” I pick up the lime, and since she won’t come closer to me, I hold it up and show her how I do it. “Cool, right? Just make sure not to go too deep so you cut through the rind at the bottom.”

Presley watches my hands work, and then she nods. “Got it. Don’t go too deep.”

I bite the inside of my cheek. Why does everything out of her mouth sound like sexual innuendo to me? Before I can think too much about that or embarrass her again, I place the wedge I sliced on the cutting board. I finish showing her how to cut the lime at an angle so it makes three perfect wedges.

“Simple enough, right?”

---