Page 3 of Coty

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Kayla

If one more guy hits on me tonight, I’m busting a bottle over his head. I’ll have to use a cheap bottle of beer. There’s no way I’m paying Bankz for an expensive bottle of wine or whiskey. And don’t even get me started on the glassware he buys for the bar. I’ve seen the invoice on his desk a few times. Somebody’s ripping him off.

One of the college guys pushes between two customers. He slaps his palm on the bar and smiles at me. Yeah, I see him. How could I not? He’s right in front of me. The little twinkle in his eyes doesn’t work on me like it has with the girls at the table next to him and his buddies.

“Hey, gorgeous.” Flattery won’t get him far, either. “How about another round?” He holds up the cash between two fingers.

“You know you have a server? You don’t have to come up here every time.” I grab four mugs and fill them with his table’s choice of draft beer.

This is the fourth time he’s come up here. I’ve seen Emily stop at his table several times. They refuse her help every time. Tipping the server can’t be the issue. He leaves me twenty bucks every time. Hey, I’m not complaining about the extra cash. My car is on its last leg. All of my tips are going into a downpayment fund.

“But then I wouldn’t get to see your pretty face up close.” His grin widens.

Yep. He’s flirting with me. Nope. It’s not going anywhere. The last time I fell for this took me down a dark road I never want to travel again. I swear, college guys must pass a manual for this scenario around campus. Maybe it’s an initiation to get into a fancy club. Whateverthisis, he’ll do better lavishing it on the ladies sitting beside them.

I set the mugs on the bar and snatch the cash from his fingers. “Sounds like you have a personal problem.”

“I do.” He props his elbow on the bar and rests his chin in his hand. “I’m Blake. I’ve been watching you all night.”

I roll my eyes as I cash out his order and get his change. He’s a liar. He’s been flirting with every girl who walks by his table.

“Sounds creepy.” I offer him his change.

“Keep the change, love.” His grin widens. “What time do you get off? I can wait for you.”

Smooth. Real smooth. Not. And it’s not happening. I don’t deal with creepy jerks. Besides, he’s not my type at all—blond wavy hair, way too friendly, and extremely flirty with every woman in the building. I happily pocket the twenty-two-dollar tip and prepare to claw Blake’s eyes out. He might not be used to rejection, but oh well, it's not my problem. I don’t get a chance to say anything.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Bankz slides up next to me and drapes an arm over my shoulders. “College dude here giving you trouble?”

“Not anymore.” I could handle college dude, but this is even better.

Jerrard Banks owns JB’s Roadhouse. He wears the same outfit to work every night. Black boots, dark blue jeans, a T-shirt, those change colors. Tonight, his shirt is green. The one item he proudly wears everywhere, causing most people to avoid him, is his black leather Viking Warriors MC cut. It’s enough to strike a little fear into people, Blake included. If Bankz wasn’t enough, full fear joins us.

The guy sitting on the bar stool to Blake’s right is lifted off the stool and deposited on the floor behind the lady sitting next to him. Kellie and Bruce are a lovely couple. They aren’t technically dating yet. I’ve really enjoyed talking with them for the past hour.

Hendrix doesn’t sit on the empty bar stool. He leans his side against the bar, facing Blake, and glares. “The last guy whowaited until she got offis still in a coma at St. Andrews.”

Blake swallows hard. He looks back at Bankz and me. The poor guy has turned white as a sheet. I almost feel sorry for him. Almost.

“Yep.” Bankz nods once. “I heard his family signed a do-not-resuscitate form last week.”

“Oh, man.” Hendrix looks devastated. “I really thought this one was going to pull through.”

These two are insane. No one is in the hospital because of me.

“Um.” Blake quickly grabs the handles of two mugs in each hand. “Sorry, miss. Forget I was here.”

“Not a problem.” It’s a lie. He was quickly becoming one.

“Won’t be one if you stay at your table,” Hendrix adds.

Blake doesn’t look back. When he gets to his table, one of his friends switches places with him so his back is to the bar. The guy now facing me, eyes widen as Blake tells them about his last trip to the bar. Trust me, it’s his last one. They’ll order through a server for the rest of the night or leave.

“You two are evil.” I try to look serious and irritated with them. I can’t hold it in and bust out laughing.

I freeze when I look across the bar. Emily is at Blake’s table. Bankz and Hendrix growl. Whoa. That’s not a good sign coming from a Viking, and two of them are doing it? Thankfully, Blake and his friends politely decline ordering anything more, and Emily moves to the next table.

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