My eyes flare. Did he just say please? Because of our conversation this afternoon? I nod and flash him a small smile before heading to the opposite side of the bar to serve other customers. I see Reid chatting with Arrow, the two of them laughing about something. When everyone is served, I walk to the tables and collect the glasses, piling as many as I can without dropping them. I carry them to the back, almost running into Tag, another guy who works here.
“Need some help?” he asks, eyeing the huge stack.
“No, I’ve got this. But thanks,” I reply, smiling up at him. “You can man the bar though.”
He smiles crookedly. “Already giving out orders, hmmmm?”
“What? Trust me, you haven’t seen me take control yet.” I smirk, giving him a wink for good measure.
He laughs loudly, shakes his head, and walks to the bar. I stack the glasses next to the sink, then tidy up the station before returning out front. I watch as Arrow sips his drink, his gaze never leaving me.
“Slow day at the office?” I ask, leaning my elbows down in the bar.
He shrugs his broad shoulders. “Have to babysit you, so thought I might as well have a drink while I do it.”
My smile drops. “You don’t have to babysit me, you only have to pick me up. Two hours from now, might I add. And where’s Rake?”
“Out,” he replies. “I told you he’s on a run.”
“On a run with who?” I ask, watching as Arrow licks some whiskey off his full, firm lips.
My mouth suddenly feels parched.
I turn to Tracker, much safer territory. “Want another beer?”
“Yes, please,” he replies, sliding his empty bottle to me. “Where’s Lana tonight?”
“On a date,” I reply, not looking up.
“With who?” he asks quietly. “I didn’t know she was seeing anyone.”
I reach down to the fridge and pull out another beer before I answer. “She wasn’t. Now she is.”
She wasn’t, not really. Some guy asked her out and she was forcing herself to go, determined to forget Tracker—but he didn’t need to know that.
A group of women walk in, about six of them. Only two are beautiful, but I see the men around me staring at all of them. Must be the cheerleader effect in action. Irish calls two women over—the good-looking ones, of course—and one instantly sits on his lap, the other on Vinnie’s. I look to Arrow and raise a brow, wondering when he is going to get his man-whore on like the rest of them. When Tracker pulls a middling blonde onto his lap, I judge him.
Hard.
“Tracker—”
“Not your business, Anna,” Arrow cuts in. I snap my mouth shut and glare at Arrow, but still can’t ignore what Tracker’s doing. I don’t even like Allie—you could actually say I hated her—but if you don’t want a woman, or a man, you end it with them. You don’t cheat. There’s no honor or loyalty in cheating. Just don’t be with that person if you’re not happy—it’s as simple as that. I’ve been cheated on before, and it hurts. There’s a moment, if only for an instant, when you wonder what you didn’t have that the cheater felt the need to seek elsewhere. I had that moment. Then, when my self-respect kicked in seconds later, I realized it wasn’t my fault but his. I wasn’t the one being disloyal for whatever reason; I’m more honest than that.
I walk away from Tracker and his new friend, who is now straddling him, and stand at the opposite side of the bar. If Tracker ever mans up, dumps Allie, and goes after Lana, there is no way in hell I’m going to be on his side when I see him acting like this. I get drinks for a few rowdy women out for a divorce party, then grit my teeth as I watch the divorcée herself strut over to Arrow after a few shots of liquid courage. I lean back on the bar, cross my arms over my chest, and watch the show.
I need to remind myself that Arrow is not and never will be the man for me.
SEVEN
SHE runs her hand down his shoulder, and it’s then I notice none of the men are wearing their cuts. I look away as Arrow whispers something into the woman’s ear, unable to keep my eyes on him any longer. Why did I have to have these feelings for him? It would be so much easier if I didn’t. If I could see him like I do Tracker, almost like family.
“You okay?” Reid asks as he stands next to me. I have to look up to see his eyes; the man is tall. Maybe even as tall as Arrow. “Why wouldn’t I be?” I reply, wiping the bar top to keep my hands busy.
“Because I’m not stupid,” he replies quietly, nodding in greeting at a customer who walks in.
I look up at Reid’s handsome face. “It’s just a little crush.”
Maybe if I keep saying it, I will believe it myself.
I say it softly, so no one else can hear. “You repeat it and I’ll deny it.”
Reid chuckles, then sobers. “You’re a smart girl.”
“A scientist,” I add, grinning. “But where are you going with this?”
“A scientist,” he repeats with a nod. “I’m not good at giving advice or anything, but, Anna, as a man, I can tell he has it bad for you. The question is, what are you going to do with it?”
“With what?”
“With what I just told you,” he says, looking agitated. “You sure you’re a scientist?”
“About as positive as I am that you’re a jerk¸” I shoot back.