She sets the knife on the cutting board and peers up at me as curiosity tugs at her brow. “She asked about me?” Her voice squeaks at the end. Wonder why Ani asking about her makes her nervous?
“Mmhm. Standard stuff. How you’re doing in your role. If the customers like you. If there’s been any issues.” I cock a brow. “And if you get along with the staff. Me included.”
She swallows and her tension piques my interest.
“What did you tell her?” She tucks fallen strands of hair behind her ears, then shoves her hands in her back pockets.
I want to toy with her. Drag out the silence to inflame her uneasiness. After all the times she gave me shit, after all the times she threw daggers at me, I want her to feel a hint of discomfort before I answer.
This is me and Peyton. We go head-to-head. Give as good as we get. Purposely piss each other off and bask in the other’s misery. Dangle bait and tempt the beast. I love and hate the way we bicker like juveniles. Her enthusiasm and irritation—which I’m not certain is real—fuel me on.
Do my snappy retorts give her ammunition too?
Her hands slip from her pockets, ball into fists, and rest on her hips. Tap, tap, tap. A foot taps the floor in sync with her head bobs. Lips pursed, eyes narrowed, Peyton is at the end of her lit fuse. And I love the surge of power it delivers.
She opens her mouth to speak, but I hold up a hand and stop her. A huff from her lips makes mine tip up.
“That you’re a pain in my ass,” I say with my best poker face.
Her jaw drop is priceless. “What the fuck, Micah?” Micah, not Micky. She scans the club as if Ani will jump out and berate her.
I let her panic to the count of ten, then put her out of her misery. “Peyton, calm down.” Her dilated pupils land on me and suck me into a black hole. “I didn’t actually say that to her. I may be a dick, but I would never do that without coaching you first.”
Left, then right, her shoulders loosen. Her chest deflates faster than a balloon. And her eyes smooth out at the corners as her lips lose the paleness of tension.
“Why are you such an asshole?”
With a shrug, I say, “Natural talent, I suppose.”
“Don’t know why I believe a word that comes out of your mouth. Been nothing but bullshit since day one.”
Since day one?What the hell is she talking about?
The day Ani introduced Peyton to the staff, I was all smiles. How could I not be? A gorgeous new woman to distract me while I worked. Ani must have thought the world of her to hire her on the spot. On her first night at Roar, as Ani introduced her to everyone, Peyton’s eyes lit up, she smiled and said a kind hello to everyone. Except me. When Ani introduced me, Peyton remained straight faced and gave a lackluster wave. No verbal greeting. No smile or kindness.
Initially, I thought her disrespectful. But after a year, her behavior seems rooted in something incomprehensible. The worst part… she won’t fucking tell me what about me bothers her.
“Since day one?” Peyton throws me a smug half smile. “Funny. The only hostility I recall on that first day was all you. Which I still don’t get, but whatever.” Before she counters me, I turn on my heel and go back to the office. “Don’t need this bullshit,” I mumble on the way.
The next hour, I scour mindless ideas online for Ani and Sean for the slower business days. Most of it is a crapshoot. Man Crush Monday would be a lame addition, but I won’t veto it until something better pops up. Monday and Tuesday just aren’t days most people want to go out. Attracting them won’t be easy. But I have confidence that between the four of us—Ani, Sean, me, and Gina—we will find something better.
A knock at the door distracts the numbness of scrolling search engine results. “Come in.”
The door swings open and Peyton fills the frame. Earlier, I didn’t glimpse her fully behind the bar. But now, I see her crown to heel. The skintight black V-neck flashes her ample cleavage. Pants equally skintight hug her curvy hips and show off her muscular legs. Pulled altogether with heeled boots.
I fight the desire to lick my lips or adjust myself in her presence. That would give her the upper hand. Give her something to wave in my face and tease me with endlessly. Strong women are a turn-on. But the foreplay is so much better.
Clack, clack, clack.Her heels clap the concrete floor as she steps closer to the desk. Inches away, she stops, leans forward and plants her palms close enough to touch.
Don’t look at her tits. Don’t look at her tits.
I swallow as subtly as possible. “Something I can help you with?”
A slow grin lifts the corners of her mouth. Like she knows I struggle with her proximity. “Mmhm.” But she doesn’t elaborate. It pisses me off and makes me hard at the same time.
“Well…”
“You don’t know?” My brows cinch together. “Guess you aren’t all-knowing.” Poker face. Keep your poker face. “Ted needs you,” she says after a minute of silence.
Ted needs me? She came in here, went all temptress on me, for that?
Ted, another bouncer, works Monday to Thursday, so he isn’t bored at home. All in all, Ted is a nice guy. But if he needs to talk to me about another one of his fishing trips, I may keel over and die a slow, boring death. I get it, the man is lonely. Just because we have the same genitalia, doesn’t mean I like and do all the same activities. Sometimes, men want to swim or read, go bowling or play putt-putt. Organized and unorganized, sports aren’t my jam.
“Did he say what for?”