Page 54 of Things We Never Got Over (Knockemout)
I flipped my hair over my shoulder. “Nope.”
He looked at his watch and smirked. “You won’t even make it to the end of the shift at this rate.”
“I’ll be happy to prove you wrong.”
“In that case, you just got yourself another table.”
He pointed to a rowdy table in the corner where an older man with a potbelly and a cowboy hat appeared to be holding court.
“Don’t do that to her on her first night, Knoxy,” Max chided him.
“If she’s so confident she can handle it, no use letting her wade around in the kiddie pool. Gotta throw her in the deep end.”
“There’s a difference between sink or swim when you introduce sharks,” Silver argued.
TWELVE
A RIDE HOME
Knox
I had paperwork to do, but I was more interested in the impending crash and burn of my newest employee.
Naomi strutted her high-class ass right on up to the table like an idealistic kindergarten teacher on her first day. I hated Wylie Ogden for good reason, but I didn’t mind using him to prove my point.
She didn’t belong here. And if I had to prove that by dangling her in front of a wolf, then so be it.
Wylie’s squinty little eyes zeroed in on her, and his tongue darted out between his lips. He knew the rules. Knew I wouldn’t hesitate to toss his ass out of here if he so much as touched one of my employees. But that didn’t stop him from being a creepy old man.
“What’s your problem with Not Tina?” Silver asked, punching the button on the blender and pouring vodka into three rocks glasses.
I didn’t reply. Answering questions only encouraged conversations.
I watched as Wylie lavished Naomi with his pervy brand of attention without feeling the least bit guilty.
She wasn’t my type on any plane of existence. Hell, even in jeans and a Honky Tonk t-shirt, she still looked high-class and high-maintenance. She wouldn’t settle for a few nights between the sheets.
She was the kind of woman with expectations. With long-term plans. With honey-do lists and would you minds and can you pleases.
Normally I could ignore an attraction to a woman who wasn’t my type.
Maybe I needed a break? It had been a while since I’d taken a few days off, had some fun, gotten laid.
I did the math, winced.
It had been more than a while.
That’s what I needed. A few days away. Maybe I’d hit the beach. Read a few fucking novels. Drink a few beers out of someone else’s inventory. Find a good lay with no strings or expectations.
I ignored the knee-jerk “meh.”
After hitting forty, I’d noticed an alarming ambivalence when it came to the hunt. Laziness most likely. The hunt, the narrowing of the field, the flirtation. What had once been entertaining started to seem like a lot of work for just a night or two.
But I’d work up the energy, work off the sexual frustration. Then I could come back here and not feel compelled to jerk off every time I saw Naomi Witt.
Matter settled, I poured myself a water from the soda gun and watched Naomi try to leave the table only to be stopped by Wylie. The fucker actually grabbed her by the wrist.
“Oooooh, shit,” Silver said under her breath as I came off the barstool.
