Page 505 of Rock Me All Night
And familiar. Really familiar.
He's not a regular. Certainly not from Long Island.
I don't know anyone in LA. Why do I recognize him?
I shove my hands into the pockets of my apron. I'm here to accomplish something and it's not checking out the manwhore with an exhibitionist streak. "Excuse me, but you can't do that here. Please take a minute to get dressed and leave or I'll have to call the police."
"Can you make it two minutes?" he asks with a deep, even voice.
He's ballsy. I'll give him that much.
My gaze is drawn to the tattoo curving around his hip and thigh.
Get a grip, Jess. Six months is a long dry streak but you don't need to stoop to being some player's sloppy seconds.
"Uh…" I can negotiate too. "Two minutes if you keep it down."
"Thanks." He turns back to the woman. One hand plants on the wall in front of her. The other stays over her mouth, muffling her groans.
He has the decency to wait until I close the door to resume fucking her.
Pete.
I know him.
But how?
I do a mental run through of every dark-haired man I know as I add up my tips. Time to close out with Rick. And to plead for an extra weekend shift.
He's sitting with the copper-haired woman, his arm around her waist.
Great. I'm interrupting his flirtation. That will put him in a good mood.
Someone bumps into me. Hard. It's her—the woman from the bathroom.
She scowls at me. "Thanks a lot."
I bite my tongue. Telling her to go to hell is above my pay grade. Better to step out of the way and let her storm off. Besides, she looks embarrassed. I'm not going to rub salt in the wound.
I try to step aside. Her eyes narrow. She goes out of her way to bump into me again.
Shit. My balance falters. I land right on my ass, my glasses sliding off my face.
I can't make out any of the details of her expression. But I can hear her frustrated sigh, her loud stomping steps, the cracking of plastic.
Dammit. I know that sound. There's no chance my frames are still in one piece.
Her footsteps get quieter as she storms out of the bar.
Where the hell did my glasses go? I'm about to swallow my pride and launch into a full on hands and knees search when I hear his voice. The man from the bathroom. Pete.
"You okay?" He kneels next to me and offers his hand.
I stare back at him. Does he really think I'm going to take that hand? God knows where he was touching the girl in the red dress. "Where has that been?"
"Just washed and scrubbed."
Not clean enough.
