“If you’re not having a good time after you spend my quarters, I’ll take Mac and head out, and you can do whatever you were doing before I got here.”
“Craig.”
He gave a solemn nod. “My mistake. Craig.”
My hand slipped up his shoulder to the side of his neck, then back down again. “How about I go get us another round and you pick the next two songs. Something we can dance to.”
He let me go, and back at the bar, Declan gave me sad, puppy dog eyes. “I never should’ve given you that quarter.”
I glanced over my shoulder at Mo, hunched over the jukebox, and bit my lip. Even from behind, he was gorgeous. Broad shoulders that stretched the cotton of his grey T-shirt to its limits. Long, long arms and wide hands that I now knew felt really fucking good on my body. And his ass was bitable. He filled out his snug jeans in a really fascinating way. I’d been too busy working all the other times I’d encountered this man. Tonight, I had nothing going on, and it was impossible not to notice him.
“No, probably not,” I said.
“That’s too bad.” He sounded like he meant it, which was a little boost to the ego.
Declan served up our drinks, and I walked back toward Mo, carrying his whiskey and my cranberry vodka. He leaned against the jukebox, giving me a look that made my knees shaky. I knew who this man was. I had witnessed the flocks of women he’d welcomed with open arms, and most likely, an open zipper. I had no doubt he’d given this smoldering, intense look to any number of them. But this was the first time it was directed at me, and I was so damn susceptible.
I handed him his whiskey just as his hand took its place at my waist again. “Thank you, Michaela.”
“Most people call me Mickey,” I said.
“Why?”
“At work, I’m one of the boys. And since most of my life is spent at work, I’ve gotten used to it.”
“Well,” his hand splayed wide, covering my hip and side, “we’re not at work, and you sure don’t look like one of the boys to me.”
“No, I’m not. But it’s easier for me to let the men I work with think of me that way.”
He seemed to consider this while taking a pull of his drink, his thumb moving back and forth under my ribs. I took my own drink, keeping a healthy distance between our bodies, even though he was looking like a nice place to lean.
“Guess you are one of the few women who work backstage. I was going to say that must be why I always noticed you, but no. I’d have noticed you if it were all women back there.”
Shaking my head, I patted his chest. “That’s really sweet, but you don’t need to do that.”
“What?”
“Ply me with lines. I’m not sleeping with you.”
He pulled up to his full height, and instead of letting me go, his hand squeezed. “Wasn’t a line, Michaela. And I’d never assume something like that with you. You’re not that kind of girl.”
That had me cracking a smile as I drained half of my drink. “Oh, I’m not? And how would you possibly know that?”
The pull of his soft, full lips into a cocky grin sent a tingling sensation down my spine. I was such a sucker for swagger, and in the two years since I’d seen him, Moses had clearly spent a lot of time developing his own brand. His brand was still boy next door, but now there was a heavy, tempting dose of filthy, bad rocker in the mix.
“Because I think I made my interest pretty damn obvious when you worked on our tour and you wanted nothing to do with me.”
I drained more of my drink before responding. “When I’m at work, that’s all I think about. You might’ve flirted with me, and I might’ve noticed, but you flirt—it’s what you do.”
“And you’re a hard-ass,” he said.
“You don’t know me, and you certainly have no idea what it’s like to be the only woman in a boy’s club. I have to be a hard-ass, and I can’t go around screwing every cute rocker who flirts with me.”
My glass now empty, I turned to go back to the bar, but Mo caught my wrist, pulling me against him. His chest aligned with my back, and he kept hold of me as he bent to speak beside my ear. “I don’t screw every woman I flirt with. And I like you being a hard-ass. I really fucking like it, Michaela.”
I snorted a laugh, despite the way his deep voice had my core heating. “You can’t help yourself, can you?” Whipping around, I placed my hand on his chest and gave him a shove. “I tell you I’m not sleeping with you, and you take that as your cue to get in my space?”
He pressed his thumb into the indent in my bottom lip, taking my breath. “I guess so.” He took my empty glass from me. “Next round’s on me.”