Page 92 of Not Fooling Anyone

“Ah.” He eyes me speculatively, and I look down at myself. Oh, crap. The bustier. “Were you wearing that earlier?” he asks.

“I had a sweater on in the car.” Purposely.

“You look good.”

That’s the idea. “I get better tips in it.”

He smirks. “And do you lean over the counter like that other girl did when you give people their drinks?”

I pick up a bar rag, scrubbing at a random spot on the bar. “Sometimes.” If I think it’ll help. “Do you have a problem with that?”

“Not at all. You do what you have to do.”

“So you wouldn’t care if I did that to a customer in front of you?” Why am I asking him this? It’s like I want to invite trouble.

“No. Because I know I’m the one going home with you tonight.”

My belly swoops down low near my toes. “Technically,” I remind him.

He grins. “Technically,” he agrees.

I fiddle with the rag, compelled to explain myself better. “Some of the other girls are good at flirting. They collect regulars that way. But I hate being fake with people.”

“You don’t say.”

I bite my bottom lip, hiding my smile. “So this”—I point to my chest—“usually makes up for that. But I don’t lead guys on or anything.”

“I never thought you did.”

“I just—” I glance behind me, making sure no one is within earshot. “I want you to know I’m not like that.”

“Lexie.” He reaches forward, brushing his fingers over mine. “I know you aren’t. I wasn’t criticizing your outfit. I meant I actually like it. You look beautiful.”

“You mean sexy,” I blurt out.

His brows pinch together. “What?”

“Nothing. Forget it.” I go back to scrubbing the counter, even though it’s spotless.

“You can be both,” he says. “I think you’re both.”

I blow out a breath. “That’s nice of you to say.”

“But you don’t believe me.”

I look up at him, weighing my words. “I’ve had a lot of people tell me otherwise. I can’t switch that off overnight.”

His mouth twists downward. “Are you talking about how Savannah called you sexy Lexie?”

Fuck. He remembers that? Of course he does. His mind is like a steel trap. “Yes,” I admit. “I’m not… I wasn’t…”

He waits patiently for me to finish my thought, though I’m unsure where I’m even going with it.

I glance behind me again, Sarah closer than I’d like, though she’s still out of range. “Can we talk about this another time?”

“Yeah, of course.”

There are footsteps and then Sarah’s snotty voice. “You haven’t gotten him a drink yet? If you’re just going to flirt with the customers, you might as well go home.”

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