Page 54 of From the Start
“Have a lot of experience with love, do you?”
“Not yet. But I’m working on it.”
I meet her gaze. Does she realize I’m referring to her? That I want to experience how it feels to love her. I started falling for her the second I laid my eyes on her.
Her eyes widen, and she retreats a few feet. Patience, I remind myself. Harper, the prickly pear, is not going to fall at my feet and declare her love after one sexual encounter. I need to wiggle my way into her life. Make myself indispensable.
“Harper!” the bartender yells.
She wrenches her gaze from mine to glance at the bartender. “What is it, Dave?”
He motions to the line of patrons waiting to be served. “Could use some help here.”
“I can help,” I immediately offer.
“I think you’ve done enough.”
She doesn’t give me a chance to answer before she rushes off. Why is Harper always rushing away from me? Granted, I enjoy ogling her ass as she walks. But I’d prefer her to walk toward me instead of away.
I join the line of clients waiting to be served. As I wait, I study the bar. It’s a Wednesday night but it’s packed in here. I don’t understand how Harper can have money problems when the bar is always packed. Does she need to raise her prices?
I reach the front of the line and smile at Harper. “A Five Fathoms Summer Saison Beer, please.”
She grabs a mug and pours beer into it.
“Did Blossom and Dakota stop by yesterday?”
She glares at me. “You know they did. You sent them to spy on me.”
“I didn’t ask them to spy. I asked them to check up on you.”
“I’m a grown woman, Kai. I don’t need anyone to check up on me.”
I point to the overflowing beer in the mug. “It’s full.”
“Damnit,” she mutters before flipping the tap shut. When she sets the beer down, it splashes over the sides onto her t-shirt.
“I’m not usually a klutz.”
She gathers the bottom of her t-shirt and wrings out the fabric. A tantalizing amount of smooth skin is exposed. Skin, I touched yesterday. Skin, I long to touch again. And taste.
My cock presses against my zipper in a bid to get to Harper. I curl my hands on the edge of the bar before I reach for her. Before I jump over this bar and throw her over my shoulder.
She plonks the beer down on the bar in front of me and I manage to lift my gaze from her bare skin to her face.
Her brow wrinkles. “You’re not making a sexual innuendo.”
Because I’m afraid, if I speak, I’ll drool and make a fool of myself.
“Maybe—”
“Boss!” Trent yells and cuts her off.
I spin around to face the bouncer and notice he’s holding off several women dressed as mermaids.
“I got this,” I tell Harper before marching toward the door.
“You don’t work here,” she hollers after me.
