I nod and smile, trying my best to seem unaffected. Which I’m not, of course. Far from it. In fact, I’m so affected I feel like I might hurl right in Taryn’s pretty face.
“What makes you think he’ll never pick one of these…blonds and settle down?”
Her laugh is bitter. “Because I know Cash. That boy has wild blood. Guys like that don’t change. And girls can’t make ‘em. It’s just the way they are. It’s part of why they’re so irresistible, too. Don’t we all want what we can’t have?”
I smile again, but say nothing. After a few seconds, she grabs my towel and swipes at a wet glass ring on the bar. “Anyway, I’m over it. I just wanted you to know I’m burying the hatchet.”
“I’m glad,” I manage to eke out past the lump in my throat.
I busy myself with early clean-up duties. Dual is less than an hour from last call. How in the world I’ll make it that long is beyond me, but I know the first step is to keep busy. But no amount of busy work can silence the conflicting voices in my head.
You knew he was a bad boy. That’s why you tried to stay away from him and not get involved.
I feel dismay curl in the pit of my stomach like a cold, heartless snake. But then the voice of reason—or is it the voice of denial?—speaks up.
After all that has happened over the last few weeks, how can you doubt the way he feels about you? Cash isn’t the type to fake it. And what he’s said, what you’ve shared isn’t fake. It’s real. And it’s deep. And Taryn is a psychotic bitch who has no clue what she’s talking about. Maybe all that tattoo ink has gone to her brain.
While all of that is true, nothing I tell myself eradicates the feeling of unease that has settled into my bones. Into my heart.
One part of me—the rational, logical, uninvolved, hurt-too-many times part—pops up to make matters worse.
How many times are you gonna fall for the same lines? The same kind of guy?
But Cash is different. I know it. Deep down. I remind myself that it’s completely unfair to judge a book by its cover. No matter how much experience I have with similar covers. Cash’s cover might be that of a bad boy, but the book, the inside is so much more.
As I clean the grate under the beer tap, my eyes wander the thinning crowd and dark interior of the club, looking for Cash. Wouldn’t you know that, when I find him, a busty blond bombshell is throwing her arms around his neck and rubbing her skanky little body all over him. I grit my teeth against the urge to jump over the bar, march right over there and snatch her bald-headed.
But my anger fades into acute distress when I see Cash smile down into her face. I see his lips move as he speaks to her and my heart springs a leak. It makes me feel somewhat better when he reaches up to unwind her arms from around his neck then take a step back from her, but it’ll take more than that to get Taryn’s unwelcome words out of my head.
Dammit.
My mood circles the drain for the next hour and a half. Even the fairly likeable personality Taryn has adopted when she’s not being an utter bitch doesn’t help. I even start thinking to myself that maybe it would be a good idea to go back to the apartment for the night.
An hour later, as I wash the sliced lemons container on my end of the bar, I’m still pondering my options while debating the likelihood that I have undiagnosed bipolar disorder. A shot glass slides across the bar in front of me. I look up to see Taryn at my right, grinning, holding a glass of her own.
“Shhh,” she says with a wink. “I won’t tell if you won’t. It’s closing time anyway.” She pulls a ten dollar bill out of her pocket and throws it down.
At least she’s paying.
Normally, I would politely decline, but a shot to calm my nerves and ease my troubled thoughts sounds like a good idea. I wipe my hands on a towel and grab the tiny glass.
Taryn raises hers and smiles at me. “Salut!” she exclaims with a nod.
I nod and raise mine as well, and we both toss back our shot. I don’t need to ask what she poured. The vodka burns all the way down.
Making a deep, growly “ah” sound, Taryn grins at me. “Come out with me. You look like you need a night of frivolous fun.”
Before I can answer her, Cash’s voice interrupts us. “Olivia,” he calls from the doorway of his office. “Come see me before you go. There are a few things I need to discuss with you.”
“Okay,” I reply, my stomach tightening with a mixture of excitement, desire and dread. He ducks back into his office and closes the door. I turn to Taryn. “Next time?”
“Sure,” she responds pleasantly. “I’ll just finish up and head out.”