“Hey,” I repeated, putting the metal lid over the warmer and throwing the plastic wrap away.
“I’m on the bar today,” he said after a moment’s hesitation.
“Okay.” I brushed past him to get to the dishwashing station where two divided trays of clean glasses waited. I hefted one, then found it being snatched from my hands. “I’ve got it,” I insisted.
“Now I’ve got it,” Knox said, carting it up to the soda machine and dropping it on the stainless steel counter.
I rolled my eyes and grabbed the second tray. It, too, was promptly removed from my possession. Ignoring him, I flicked on the heat lamps on the expo line and moved to the POS to check the receipt tape.
I could feel him watching me. His gaze had a weight and temperature to it. I hated being so aware of him.
I could practically feel him skimming me from head to toe. I’d worn jeans today instead of one of my denim skirts, feeling like every layer of protection was necessary.
“Naomi.” His voice was a rough rasp around my name, and it made me shiver.
I glanced at him and gave him my best fake smile. “Yeah?”
He shoved his hand through his hair, then crossed his arms.
“I owe you an apology. Last night—”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s forgotten,” I said, making a show of checking my apron for my bank and notebook.
“This doesn’t have to be…you know. Weird.”
“Oh, it’s not weird for me,” I lied. “It’s all in the past. Water under the bridge. We’re both moving on.”
His eyes looked like molten silver as he stared me down. The air between us was charged with what felt like an impending lightning strike. But I forced myself to hold his gaze.
“Right,” he said with a clench in his jaw. “Fine.”
I didn’t know exactly how much Knox had moved on until an hour into the slowest shift ever. Normally a Saturday lunch shift could be counted on for some kind of business, but the whole seven patrons seemed to be content to sip their beers and chew their food 137 times. Even with the new server, Brad, to train, I had too much time to think.
Rather than hang around
the bar and deal with Knox’s moody stare, I cleaned.
I was scrubbing down the wall next to the service bar, working on a particularly tricky stain, when the front door opened, and a woman walked in. Or strutted. She wore black suede boots with stiletto heels, the kind of jeans that looked as though they’d been painted on, and a cropped leather jacket.
She had a trio of bracelets wrapped around her right wrist. Her nails were painted a gorgeous, murderous red. I made a mental note to ask her what the color was.
Her dark hair was cut short and worn tousled on top. She had cheekbones that could cut glass, an expertly applied smoky eye, and a wry grin.
I wanted to be her friend. To go shopping with her. To find out everything about her so I, too, could retrace her steps and discover that kind of confidence for myself.
That grin widened when she spotted Knox behind the bar, and I suddenly wasn’t sure I wanted to be friends anymore. I snuck a glance at Knox and knew I definitely didn’t want to be friends. Not with the way he was looking at her with affectionate familiarity.
She didn’t say a word, just strolled across the bar, eyes on him. When she got there, she didn’t slide onto a stool and order what I guessed would be the world’s coolest drink. No. She reached across, grabbed him by the shirt, and laid a kiss right on his mouth.
My stomach dropped out of my body and continued to plummet toward the earth’s core.
“Oh, shit,” Wraith groaned from his table.
“Uh, is that the boss’s girlfriend?” Brad, the server I was supposed to be training, asked.
“I guess so,” I said, sounding as if I was being strangled. “I’ll be back. Hold this.” I handed Brad the dirty rag and gave the bar wide berth.
“Naomi!” Knox sounded pissed. But his moods were no longer my concern.