Page 51 of Never Stop
CHAPTER TEN
Easton
Brooke ducked under the bar pass and walked back to where she had been standing on the other side with a smirk on her face. I looked at the clock near the register and groaned, realizing I had another hour before I could start kicking people out.
Having to work nights was really starting to get to me. Avery and I switched off, and we also worked the lunch crowd, but I wanted to be home with my girls all the time. We’d hired more bartenders for that reason except we both felt as if one of us needed to be here in case something were to happen.
Tonight thatsomethingwas Brooke not wearing underwear.
I was going to kill her.
No, I was going to fuck her then kill her.
Okay, I was only going to fuck her.
I should have known she would be up to no good because it seemed that every time she walked through the doors of Halo, she had to make every woman jealous. It wasn’t as though I blamed her. When I saw the dude talking to her and wanting to buy her a drink, I had to restrain myself from physically throwing him out of my bar.
Then the little minx came around the bar and whispered in my ear causing my dick to strain against my jeans. It didn’t help that earlier Cheyenne had, once again, walked in at the wrong time. Granted, I wasn’t going to fuck Brooke on the couch—I’d at least have carried her to the bedroom first. But the mood was killed the moment Cheyenne walked in.
All evening I was thinking about fucking Brooke on the bar like I’d mentioned the night before. Now throw in the fact that she was going commando, and I had a half a mind to take her upstairs and make her come with me buried inside her while everyone partied downstairs oblivious. Except Brooke wasn’tthattype of broad, the kind I’d used to mess around with in my office. Plus, we needed a new couch up there because ofallthose chicks I messed around with.
Brooke, though, was my fiancée—my person, and crazy as it sounded, she wasthetype to fuck on the bar. I knew she’d want me thinking about her every second of every day while working. I, of course, already did, but this would be different.Thiswould be our secret.
The minutes ticked as I poured drink after drink. Brooke took a seat at the end of the bar when it opened up, and I started to slowly only serve her cranberry juice by using more juice than vodka with each drink because I didn’t want her to get wasted. Anyone would get plastered if they spent four hours drinking vodka. I couldn’t let that happen.
“This tastes like juice,” Brooke complained.
“I’m not sure you can tell the difference in your state,” I teased.
“In my state? I’m not drunk.”
“Are you sure about that?”
She blinked and looked at the guy sitting next to her and scowled as if to ask him if he could believe what I was saying. She turned her head back to me and glared. “Yes, I’m sure. I came to a bar… todrink.”
I leaned forward and motioned for her to lean in as well. Once we were inches apart, I whispered in her ear, “No, you came here to get fucked on the bar.”
Her eyes widened, and I saw her swallow. “And who will that be with?”
I drew back and narrowed my eyes. “No one if you’re wasted.”
She laughed a huff. “Well, thank God my bartender has been skimping on the alcohol.”
The guy next to her nonchalantly tilted his glass, wondering if I was skimping on his too.
“Only when myfiancéeneeds to drive home.” I cut my eyes to look at the dude, silently asking him to understand the situation—well, not the entire situation because I was certain he didn’t know my plans.
“I’m sure I’dburnit off by the time I needed to drive home.”
I laughed and started to walk away. “Yeah, you sure will.”
An hour or so later, the bar was finally empty. Traver and our other staffers had gone home. I dimmed the lights and locked the door behind Gary after assuring him he didn’t need to walk Brooke to her car. I was always the last to leave, and normally on the rare occasion Brooke stayed until the end of the night, he would walk her to her car because I needed to lock up the money and various other things before I could go home.
Not tonight.
Brooke was still sitting on the backless barstool at the bar drinking her cranberry juice. I wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her against me. “You know people can’t see through the windows, right?”
“Are you sure?” She laughed nervously.
