Page 8 of Cowboy Crush
“Ireally appreciate you doing all this work around her for me,” old Mr. Mitchell, the bar owner, says as I put his mop sink back together.
“It’s really not a problem. It’s just some typical plumbing. Nothing hard about it,” I tell him.
“My son, Rowan, he used to take care of all of this for me, but he’s in New York right now, running his own restaurant. Of course, it’s nothing like this place. His is one of those fancy places that you have to have a reservation a month in advance for,” he tells me. “I don’t have that kind of money, but I’ll make sure I pay you for your work somehow. How’s a free steak and a bucket of beer sound?”
“Sounds pretty good to me,” I agree, screwing the drain into the sink.
He pats me on the back. “Good, I’ll tell the girls to get it going for you. How you like your steak?”
“Medium-well, sir.”
He nods. “Good choice,” he says, walking out of the kitchen and back out to the main floor of the restaurant.
After I finish with the sink, I walk over to the sink and wash and dry my hands. I step out of the kitchen and the bartender immediately hands over a bucket full of ice and five beers. “Sit over there, out of my way. I don’t want you chasing off any of the tipping customers tonight,” she says, pointing at a booth.
I know that I can sit wherever I want and even though I am an asshole, I do her a favor and honor her request. I’m not trying to make anyone’s lives harder by my being here. I don’t want to have to chase anyone off and I don’t want her losing out on money because people bother me. I sit at the booth and open one of the beer, taking a long drink. My eyes move up to the TV that hangs on the same wall the door is on.
I have one beer gone before my meal is brought out and Mr. Mitchell didn’t disappoint. The steak is one of the largest I’ve seen here and it looks to be cooked to perfection. There’s a backed potato on the side, along with some vegetables and a slice of blackberry cobbler. My mouth waters the moment it’s all put in front of me and I waste no time at digging in.
As I eat, I manage to stay in a world of my own. I don’t even bother watching the TV. The food is more than good enough to keep my full attention. It’s only after I’ve finished, when I sit back, that I notice that the place is really filling up with it being a Friday night. I check my watch and see that it’s going on seven P.M. People are getting off work and coming in for dinner and a good time. I'm usually leaving by this time but I still have three beers to drink before I can take off. It’s not like I can take them with me.
I direct my eyes back to the TV and pray that nobody feels the need to strike up a conversation. As I’m trying my best to ignore everyone by watching the TV, the door opens. My eyes automatically move over to it. Three girls come walking in. One of them being the one I chased off last night. My stomach muscles tighten, but not with anger. With need.
All of the girls are dressed to kill, but Hannah, I can’t take my eyes off her. Her long blond hair is handing all around her in these big, overly done curls. Her brown eyes are lined dark and she has these big eyelashes that only add to the depth of them. Her cheekbones are high, her lips pink and glistening. She’s wearing a white stop that doesn’t have any sleeves. It’s tight and low cut, leaving little to the imagination. She’s pairs the top with a short jean shirt and a pair of heels that give her legs a sexy as fuck shape.
I’m not the kind of guy who thinks with his dick. I don’t chase after women and I tend not to get involved at all, knowing that if I do, they’ll think it’s something it’s not. But something inside me isn’t letting me ignore Hannah the same way I did last night. Her eyes make contact with mine and she almost freezes, probably remembering how big of a dick I was to her last night. Her friends are looking around for a place to sit, and it seems like the only empty seats in the house is the booth right in front of me.
They point at it, and she shakes her head. I see their mouths moving as they whisper and I see their overly animated faces as two of them come over and slide into the booth, facing the same direction I am. That means that the only place she can sit in that booth is facing me. Fuck.
They wave her over and won’t call out her name until she finally gives in and takes her seat. I force my eyes back to the TV and take another long drink from my beer. The server make her way over to their table and they put in their drink order, waving off the menus for food. Guess they just came out tonight to have some fun and meet some people. I need to get out of here as soon as possible. I tip my beer back again and finish it off. I set the empty bottle to the side and grab another.
You know that feeling you get when you know you’re being watched. That’s the feeling that consumes me. Yet every time I glance over at her, she isn’t watching me so I don’t know where it’s coming from. I do a damn good job at ignoring her and after a little while, the task disappears altogether because the girls get up and go to the pool table. Soon after, a shot appears on my table.
I look at the shot, up to the server, and back. “What’s that?”
“Someone bought it for you,” she says, shrugging and walking away.
My brows pull together as I look around me but don’t find anyone watching me. Shrugging, I pick up the shot and toss it back, setting the empty shot glass next to the stack of empty beers.
It doesn’t feel like it takes very long before the shot is mixing in with the rest of the alcohol I’ve had to drink. I feel looser, more at ease, but even that isn’t enough to make me want to uphold one side of a conversation so I stay put, grabbing my last beer to finish it off. By this point, my table is growing cluttered, so I take the empties and put them into the bucket. Picking up the bucket and the empty shot glass, I stand and take the items to the bar.
I put the bucket on top and the bartender takes it. Then I slide her the shot glass and ask for another as I pull out my wallet. She nods and grabs the glass, but someone beside me says, “I’ll take one of those too.”
She smiles and turns to pour the drinks as I turn to see who’s walked up to my side. It’s Hannah.
She offers a smile and take a deep breath, making a show of releasing it.
“I’m sorry if I bothered you last night.”
I ignore her.
“You were right by the way…I shouldn’t assume things.”
I nod once, keeping my eyes on the bartender as she pours the shots.
“I hope the shot I bought you makes up for it.”
I turn to look at her now. “You bought that shot?”
