Phoenix Burning(16)

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Emory unlocked her shop and flipped the sign to open. Fox would be there in ten minutes to load the wedding flowers into his SUV. She yawned and picked up the mug of coffee she’d left on the counter. Her headache wasn’t quite as bad as she’d expected after her alcohol binge the night before, but sleep had been elusive.

The front bell dinged and she cringed at the unexpected sound.

“Baby, you look like you’ve been rode hard and put away wet.” Fox’s soft Midwestern drawl was tinged with laughter.

“Yep, I look like the morning after, and you’re the one who probably got laid.” It was a poor attempt at humor.

“Not me. Chris spent half the night with you. He was really worried.” Fox pushed his sunglasses up into his curly dark hair, revealing his worried green gaze. An exercise aficionado, Fox’s athletic shorts and tank top suggested he’d been up long enough to go for a run and have a protein shake.

“Is he all right?” She hated to think that her personal problems were keeping her brother up at night. She’d caused him enough trouble over the years.

“He’s fine.” Fox reached out and tugged her in for a warm hug. “You’re the one who needs some sugar.”

Normally she’d have rolled her eyes and laughed him off, but it felt good to snuggle against the man she’d long ago started calling her brother’s “wife.” It was an ironic nickname since Fox was a head taller and more muscular than her slender brother. However, personality wise, Fox had huge doses of something people usually called feminine intuition.

“So tell me about this guy you met last night.” Fox dropped a kiss on top of her head.

She pulled away, feeling both embarrassed and relieved that Chris had told Fox about her strange new infatuation. “His name is Alex.” She picked up her mug and took a sip, perching on the bar stool behind her counter.

“Alex. Bartender Alex?” Fox settled himself against a prep table, folding his arms and settling into a thoughtful stance. “I know exactly who you’re talking about. He’s definitely a hottie.”

“Since when do you and my brother hang out there?” She was starting to feel as if she’d been purposely excluded on these trips to the Phoenix.

“Chris and I have been everywhere. We stop there for a drink when it’s too late to go anywhere else. It doesn’t look like much, but the atmosphere is amazing, and the regulars are less judgmental than some of the people we meet in gay bars.”

“So, you know Alex?” She wondered how much Fox could tell her. As a writer, he was so detail oriented he might be able to tell her if the guy went commando all the time, or if he sometimes indulged in a pair of silk boxers.

Fox took off his sunglasses and set them on the table before running his fingers through his shoulder length hair. “He’s a bartender. They’re fairly friendly by nature.”

“Have you ever seen him with anyone?”

“If you’ve spent any time at all inside that bar, you know anything goes. I think it’s fair to say I’ve seen him with a lot of anyones.”

She slumped against the counter, pressing her cheek to the wood. “Terrific. So even if I got him to acknowledge I’m alive, I’ll only be able to hold his attention until the next piece of ass walks through the door.”

“Oh. My. God. You sound like a high schooler!” He lounged back onto his elbows. “If you get him to notice you? Of course he noticed you. You’re hard to forget.”

“What?”

“You and Chris both are. The two of you have something special. It lights up your eyes when you smile and makes people take a second look whether they want to or not. You’re genuine, something new and fresh, probably something he’s never seen before.”

It was a beautiful speech, but it didn’t tell her how to proceed. “So?”

“Sweetie, if you want him, you have to go in there and let him know. He’s a man. You’ve got to spell it out for him.”

Emory thought about the blonde who’d strutted in, kneeled down, and took Alex’s erection into her mouth. How was Emory ever supposed to compete with that kind of sexy, no-holds-barred approach? And once she had his attention, what was she supposed to do with it? What if she was wrong? What if the blackness reared up and swallowed her whole, leaving nothing but a quivering, wobbly mass of gooey Emory who could barely stammer her own name?

“You’ve got nothing to lose, Emory.” Fox’s soft words drew her back to the moment.

“My self-respect?”

“No, baby, that’s what you’re trying to get back.”