Page 10 of Cherry Beats

“You don’t like me bringing them here?” He placed his hand over his heart. “Well, shit. I guess I can always find a new place to take my—”

“Tinder hookups?” I arched a brow.

Presley glanced back at his date, and she looked up at him nervously, flashing a very weak, strained smile. I was waiting for the small finger wave that she was bound to offer next, but he turned back to me too quickly, and that poor woman’s shoulders drooped just an inch before she corrected herself. She’d have tea all over her face right now if she had been balancing a cup on her head.

“Does she look like a Tinder hookup to you?”

I mused as I poured him his two shots. “Not sure, but she definitely looks like a Zara. Or a Zoë but with those two fancy little dots over the E. Or a…”

“Her name is Blossom.”

“And there I was thinking this one was respectful.”

“What’s wrong with Blossom?”

“Nothing.” I shook my head as I turned back around to place the bottle on the back shelf again. “In fact, if me and her hooked up we’d make a beautiful spring tree.”

Silence.

I spun around to face him.

“Pres, quit checking out my arse.”

“It’s your fault,” he croaked, quickly clearing his voice and raising his eyes to mine. “You just put the best visual in my head. Cherry and Blossom together. Me watching.” He rolled his eyes into the back of his head and let his mouth fall open. “I’m never going to get rid of this fantasy.”

“Please. I’d destroy her.”

His head fell forward, and he finally reached for his drinks, throwing a ten-pound note on the bar before he did.

“Keep the change, Cherry. That’s a mental image worth tipping.”

I was turned on and tuned out all at once.

Presley sauntered back to his date without so much as a glance over his shoulder, and it stayed that way all night. I tried to keep busy, but it was getting harder to pretend the two of us weren’t formingsomekind of relationship… friendship. A common ground. An easy banter. I came alive around him, and no matter what he said or pretended, I knew he felt the same. Our jokes sailed through the tension so easily. So freely.

And he’d admitted to liking the look of my arse.

One day I was going to make damn sure he got a closer look.

* * *

Later that night, Bourbon tried to get me to leave so he could lock up—again—but I refused—again.

“Careful, Tess. You fall in love with a man like him, and you’ll spend the rest of your life comparing us regular losers to a rock star you once almost kissed. There’s nothing quite as shitty as living with disappointment until the day you die.”

“Have you ever thought about performing inspirational speeches in schools for kids, boss?”

Bourbon laughed and kissed my head, forcing me to close my eyes to enjoy his affection and smile softly. I loved that man.

I thought nothing more of it until I opened my eyes and saw Presley staring right at the two of us, ignoring every word a tipsy Blossom was throwing his way. He had a small scowl on his face, and he was chewing his bottom lip as he stared right at me and then raised a brow.

I was being questioned without actually being able to hear what information he needed from me. There was no rhyme or reason for me to feel uneasy, so I kept myself busy, not shouting my usual insults to throw him off his stride and make his date uncomfortable. I didn’t try and warn him that he only had ten minutes before I wanted to turn off all the lights, close my back on work for the night, and hit those streets with my stride. I didn’t even turn the music off to try and hint that they were outstaying their welcome. I let those tunes rain free.

Once the cleaning was done, all the surfaces wiped, and the floors were swept down, I waited. My lower back had a horizontal line imprinted on it from the bar I’d been resting against for a good fifteen minutes when I finally heard the scraping of a chair. I didn’t look up from the studying of my extremely chewed-down nails. My eyes stayed trained in place, cast downwards. I had no desire to see him leave with a woman that night—especially not a woman as naturally wonderful as Blossom.

This infatuation was turning into something else, and I hated feeling out of control.

The only indication of them having left was the heavy bang of the glass door, which blew an aftershock of blustery air through the now-empty space. It shouldn’t have stung, but that life filled with disappointment that Bourbon had warned me about seemed like more of a reality than I first realised.

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