Page 5 of My Undead Heart
“Cool.” He nods to the door. “If anyone comes in, just take their order until I get back. We don’t get many customers at ten in the morning, but since I said that, there’ll probably be a whole slew of people.”
“I’ve got it covered, man. Do what you need to do.”
“Thanks, Matt. I won’t be more than thirty minutes.” He walks along the bar and disappears behind the swinging door at the opposite end.
I busy myself with unloading bottles of brew, following the organizational pattern of whoever did this before me and hoping it’s right. My phone buzzes, a text from Aiden, one of the trainers I employ, asking when I’ll be back. I type out my reply and ask him to lock up the gym. I’m scheduled to teach a noon class, but I’ll be back in time to reopen for that. Before I can re-pocket my cell, the front door bursts open and daylight streams in, temporarily blinding me from making out more than a few boisterous silhouettes as they enter Zig’s.
Several blinks and a glance away from the doorway clears my vision in time to catch a group of zombie-fied twenty-somethings. The makeup along with the ripped clothing make me do more than a double take, but they’re all too absorbed in their conversation to notice my gawking. Strange. I guess the zombie craze isn’t only for movies anymore. I need to get out of the gym and my apartment more often.
I glance back at the kitchen doors and debate whether I should call Zig out now, but since the guests don’t appear to need help, I go back to the work at hand. The music over the sound system clicks on and drowns out their voices. Not wanting to be rude, I check on them every few minutes, but they’re all more interested in the screens of their cell phones than making eye contact or ordering food and drinks.
With the beers and clean glasses fully stocked, I’m moving the empty boxes and dishwasher crates out of the way when the front door opens again. This time I’ve learned my lesson and don’t ruin my eyesight by looking up at the entry. Instead, I grab one of the clean rags and wet it to wipe down the counter. I turn around and it’s then I’m met with the deathliest pair of plump lips, heart striking deep brown eyes, and lusciously exposed cleavage. She’s so sinfully gorgeous I can almost ignore the open flesh wounds painted onto her forehead, shoulder, and hand. She’s the hottest little cosplayer I’ve ever seen, and I’m suddenly very thankful for deciding to spend my morning at Zig’s.
Her manicured brow lifts as if she’s waiting for me to speak first. That or take her order for a drink. Not wanting to waste this moment of divine intervention, I set the rag on the bar and nod my head.
“Hey there, sexy zombie girl. How’s your day going?” I let my lips part in that way that says I’m interested and let’s flirt. Only she blinks twice and turns her chin away as if she’s searching for another employee to appear. Tough luck, I’m all she’s got.
“Oh, I see how it is. You’re a pretentious little thing.” A chuckle leaves my mouth and her gaze snaps back with fire in their depths. Hoping to diffuse them with a little humor, I lift my brow and try again. “You look thirsty. What can I get you?”
Her eyebrows arch but she doesn’t miss a beat. “Oh, I see how it is, you’re a Neanderthal who memorized the book of lame ass pick-up lines. Thatiswhat you’re attempting here, right?”
“Ouch. That stings a little.” I play it up and wince as I rub the center of my chest. It doesn’t escape me that her eyes follow the movement, darkening as she wets her lips with her tongue.Good.I’ve got a shot. “Let’s start over. I’m Matt.” I reach out to offer my hand, my smile wide and inviting. Sure, I came on a little strong. It’s been a long while since a woman caught my attention.
“That’s nice.” The words pop from her mouth and she ignores my hand. The front door opens and her attention follows. I take the extra moment to study her without judgment. She’s giving me the brushoff, but there’s something about her that’s got me okay with going for another round of rejection. It’s probably that short as sin orange mini skirt she’s wearing. The tailored cut showcases her long legs covered in ripped black tights. The torn off the shoulder black top calls to my inner alpha. I consider myself evolved when it comes to my male counterparts, but outfits like hers scream, “Look over here!” and like an idiot I eagerly step in line.
“Meeting friends?” I ask, but she’s already off the barstool and strutting over to the newest zombie-clad couple to enter the bar. She never even glances back as they find a table across the room. I’d know because my attention is fully piqued by the sassy little woman, dressed as dead as her apparent attraction to me.
Tough luck. I shake my head because I’ve got enough shit going on in my life. There’s no room for a woman. And something tells me this one is a handful. Still, it doesn’t cost a thing to fantasize. I may spend the rest of my time at the bar stealing glances and memorizing every single detail about her. It’ll make my shower for one later tonight even more satisfying.
