had always said it was important to treat women with care.
He shouldn’t give a damn as long as his customers were happy and nobody did anything dumb. But he should keep an eye on Catherine…to make sure she’d be all right to work the entire shift, of course.
* * *
Several hours later, Catherine stretched and twisted like a cat. Everything had been washed, dried and wiped down. The cleaning was new to her—she’d always had staff for that—but the bartending part hadn’t been too bad.
The only difficulty had been sharing of the space behind the counter with Blaine. Sometimes they had to pass by each other to get what they needed, and every time he brushed by her, she felt a frisson of electricity.
And now her body was humming, primed and ready.
Good god
,
down
,
girl
. It had to be from not having been with a man in a while. Two years was a long time to go without.
She cleared her throat, trying to steer herself away from the need pooling in her belly and below. “It’s amazing how much they can drink,” she said.
“It’s not them, it’s you,” Blaine said.
“What do you mean?”
“They were hanging around the bar for you.” He handed her a roll of cash. “You did good.”
She looked for a sign that he was grudging, but she couldn’t find any. “I didn’t do it for pay.”
“Well, but this is your tip. I can’t keep it. Wouldn’t be right.”
“This much?” She weighed the thick stack. She’d never gotten paid before.
“Yup. Men like their bartenders young and pretty. I appreciate the help.”
“It wasn’t a big deal.” She’d actually enjoyed it. The customers had been nice even though service was slow with only two of them working.
“Maybe not to you, but it was to me.” His gaze dropped to her high heels. “Your feet must be killing you.”
“Ah, I’m used to pumps.” She wore flats only when she exercised. But still…he was right. She’d been on her feet for too long, and it seemed like every muscle below her knees ached.
“C’mere. Sit on the table.” He patted a smooth wooden surface next to him.
Arching an eyebrow, she perched her hips there. Blaine swung a chair out from under the table, seated himself on it in front of her, and pulled off her right shoe. He dug his fingers gently but firmly into her insole.
“Oh my god, that feels amazing,” she said, trying to keep from moaning.
“Knew you had to be hurting.” He continued to work on the knots, and her sole tingled. “I have no idea why women wear heels. They look like torture devices. Not very practical either.”
“We don’t wear them for comfort.”
Do I sound breathless?
“We wear them to look good.”
“You don’t need to wear heels to look good, Catherine.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m short. I have to wear heels or nobody will notice me.”
He gave her a look out from under his eyebrows. “I would’ve noticed.” He switched to the other foot.
Licking her lower lip, she watched him massage her foot. He had amazing hands, strong and controlled, his fingers firm and thick.
When was the last time somebody had done anything this nice for her? Jacob had stopped bothering years earlier, when he’d realized they couldn’t conceive naturally. He’d become so bitter.
And when Jacob was bitter about something, everyone heard about it.
“Anyway, thank you. I know you don’t like me much.” She bit her lip. What had made her blurt that out loud?
Blaine’s head came up. “Why do you say that?”
She gave him her best let’s-cut-the-bullshit look. “I’ve been around men a lot in my life, and with all due modesty, most of them have liked me. But not you. I understand why—it’s the situation with my purse. I’m sure it’s made things awkward between you, Willie Rae and that sheriff.”
“Has it now?” he drawled.
She smiled wryly. “When I had a chance to calm down and think for a moment, it was obvious which would be more important. Siding with a woman
He shouldn’t give a damn as long as his customers were happy and nobody did anything dumb. But he should keep an eye on Catherine…to make sure she’d be all right to work the entire shift, of course.
* * *
Several hours later, Catherine stretched and twisted like a cat. Everything had been washed, dried and wiped down. The cleaning was new to her—she’d always had staff for that—but the bartending part hadn’t been too bad.
The only difficulty had been sharing of the space behind the counter with Blaine. Sometimes they had to pass by each other to get what they needed, and every time he brushed by her, she felt a frisson of electricity.
And now her body was humming, primed and ready.
Good god
,
down
,
girl
. It had to be from not having been with a man in a while. Two years was a long time to go without.
She cleared her throat, trying to steer herself away from the need pooling in her belly and below. “It’s amazing how much they can drink,” she said.
“It’s not them, it’s you,” Blaine said.
“What do you mean?”
“They were hanging around the bar for you.” He handed her a roll of cash. “You did good.”
She looked for a sign that he was grudging, but she couldn’t find any. “I didn’t do it for pay.”
“Well, but this is your tip. I can’t keep it. Wouldn’t be right.”
“This much?” She weighed the thick stack. She’d never gotten paid before.
“Yup. Men like their bartenders young and pretty. I appreciate the help.”
“It wasn’t a big deal.” She’d actually enjoyed it. The customers had been nice even though service was slow with only two of them working.
“Maybe not to you, but it was to me.” His gaze dropped to her high heels. “Your feet must be killing you.”
“Ah, I’m used to pumps.” She wore flats only when she exercised. But still…he was right. She’d been on her feet for too long, and it seemed like every muscle below her knees ached.
“C’mere. Sit on the table.” He patted a smooth wooden surface next to him.
Arching an eyebrow, she perched her hips there. Blaine swung a chair out from under the table, seated himself on it in front of her, and pulled off her right shoe. He dug his fingers gently but firmly into her insole.
“Oh my god, that feels amazing,” she said, trying to keep from moaning.
“Knew you had to be hurting.” He continued to work on the knots, and her sole tingled. “I have no idea why women wear heels. They look like torture devices. Not very practical either.”
“We don’t wear them for comfort.”
Do I sound breathless?
“We wear them to look good.”
“You don’t need to wear heels to look good, Catherine.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m short. I have to wear heels or nobody will notice me.”
He gave her a look out from under his eyebrows. “I would’ve noticed.” He switched to the other foot.
Licking her lower lip, she watched him massage her foot. He had amazing hands, strong and controlled, his fingers firm and thick.
When was the last time somebody had done anything this nice for her? Jacob had stopped bothering years earlier, when he’d realized they couldn’t conceive naturally. He’d become so bitter.
And when Jacob was bitter about something, everyone heard about it.
“Anyway, thank you. I know you don’t like me much.” She bit her lip. What had made her blurt that out loud?
Blaine’s head came up. “Why do you say that?”
She gave him her best let’s-cut-the-bullshit look. “I’ve been around men a lot in my life, and with all due modesty, most of them have liked me. But not you. I understand why—it’s the situation with my purse. I’m sure it’s made things awkward between you, Willie Rae and that sheriff.”
“Has it now?” he drawled.
She smiled wryly. “When I had a chance to calm down and think for a moment, it was obvious which would be more important. Siding with a woman
Similar Books
