Page 29 of Never Date A Player
Mason’s brows pinch for a moment. I don’t know if it’s my expression or the question that has him confused. He grabs a rag, wiping the counter between us that feels like an ocean. “No idea. Why?”
“You were glaring at him earlier. What’s up with that?”
He shrugs noncommittally. “Don’t like the guy.”
I close my eyes for a second. I’m about to lose it. There’s only so much a girl can take in one day, and Mason’s uncooperativeness is about to tip me over the edge. “He was aggressive with me and I want to know if the reason you don’t like him has anything to do with that sort of thing.”
Mason’s hand stills. “What did he do?” His words come out clipped.
“I don’t want to talk about it. I want to hear what you know about him.”
I glance around. Yes, my coworkers act like catty fourteen-year-olds and are greedy as hell, but after Cali got fired, and now this… There’s something going on. Drake’s buddies didn’t flinch at his actions toward me, until he got caught. And the way Mason was looking at Drake earlier—I think Drake’s done this before. And I think Mason knows it.
Mason loosens his grip on the rag. He lets out a strained breath. “There’s nothing specific. I’ve just seen him flirt with waitresses.”
I give him a mocking look. Mason is a huge flirt with pretty waitresses and just about any attractive female who passes his bar.
He rolls his eyes. “I’ve seen him in conversations that looked too intimate. Intense. He seems like you said, aggressive.”
I breathe in through my nose, holding back my anger and frustration. “You could have warned me.” My voice cracks and I leave before Mason can respond.
I’d like to run far and wide, but that’s what I always do. There will always be some asshole who treats women terrible. I’ve run from plenty of them; I can’t run from them all.
Even if I decided to quit my job, I’ve heard finding casino work mid-season is nearly impossible, and that would put me right back to depending on my mother’s dirty money. Considering what Mason said, I’m not the first person Drake has done this to. If the casino is letting him get away with it, what are the chances they will listen to anything I say? Cali lost her dealer position after much less than claiming sexual harassment from a senior executive.
Speaking of jobs—the drinks.
I glance at the time. It’s been too long. Drake and his buddies probably expected their drinks fifteen minutes ago. Why the hell did I take those jerks’ orders?
There’s a chance Drake won’t complain after what he pulled, but I’m not willing to take the chance. If I’m not running from my job because of Drake, I won’t lose it over something stupid like failing to perform my duties.
I must have made Mason feel bad, because he sends Jaeger over to check on me right after I turn in the drink orders.
“You okay?” Jaeger asks.
I nod, but I’m not doing a great job of hiding my distress. Jaeger enfolds me in a massive bear hug, tucking my head close. “Just give me the word, Gen, and I’ll beat the crap out of whoever hurt you.”
Despite my grief, I chuckle. “It’s okay, Jaeger. I’m handling it.”
Jaeger doesn’t seem completely satisfied with my response, but he nods and returns to Mason’s bar.
Jaeger’s a good guy, but I don’t want other people fighting my battles. I just need to figure out the right way to handle this.
“Whatchadoin’?”
My heart leaps in my throat at Maryanne’s voice, and I spin around. Her eyes slide to my shaking hands. Did she see Jaeger hug me? This woman is like a hound on a scent. I have to say something. “I’m waiting on an order for Drake’s party. They’re in a suite upstairs.”
“Drake Peterson?” I nod, and her mouth twists, eyes narrowing. “Everything go okay up there?”
A muscle below my eye flutters like a butterfly’s wing. I casually press my finger to it. “Yep, all good.”
Her sharp gaze tracks my finger. “Don’t let those bad boys take advantage of you.” She glances at the lounge, fuller than before. “You’re busy in here. I’ll handle Drake’s drinks.”
My mouth compresses. She’s like a psychic or a mind reader, but I don’t question it.
The bartender finishes the order and I mumble something unintelligible to Maryanne that I hope resembles a thank-you, and thrust the cocktails onto her tray. I might be brave enough to stay at my job (or stupid, depending on how you look at it), but I won’t look a gift horse in the mouth.
As soon as Maryanne leaves with the drinks, though, second thoughts hammer me. Maryanne’s tough, but is she tough enough for Drake and the drunken perverts? What if they do something to her?
