Fangs But No Fangs (9 page)

Jolee suddenly realized having him work here tonight had actually worked out well on two counts. She had needed the help. Her shoulder had already stopped throbbing. And the experience just might have humbled him a bit. It was rather amusing to watch someone who was obviously used to being the one waited on, wait on others.

The woman finally made up her mind, and as Christian turned to leave the table, the woman pinched his butt. Jolee giggled. Oh, this was definitely worth her unwanted attraction to him. He had to be in hell.

And Christian had thought his trailer was hell. This place was sheer agony. Loud mortals, the even louder twang of music playing from a blinking machine against the wall, and the stale smell of beer and smoke. Under all that was the unrelenting scent of blood, prodding his hunger. Teasing it. Mocking it. That alone would have been difficult to handle, but all together, the experience was just excruciating.

And now, a woman with the cosmetic discrimination of a clown had just grabbed his ass. His first inclination had been to turn and bite her offending hand like a mad dog. Lord, how he had fallen.

Then he saw Jolee across the room, a wide smile on her lips. The first smile he'd seen since the night he'd insulted her. Suddenly the pinch and the other assaults to his senses didn't seem to matter.

"What are you smiling about?" he asked as he reached the bar.

"That a woman just pinched your behind." She smothered a giggle, but her dark eyes danced.

All annoyance fled at the sight of her amusement. He smiled, too. "Glad I could be of some enjoyment."

"She came up earlier to see if you were a regular waiter here." She stifled another giggle.

"Well, that could be arranged." Good Lord, had he just offered to continue working in this hellhole?

Jolee's smile faded. "No. I do appreciate tonight. But by tomorrow I'll be able to handle things."

He didn't believe her, but he didn't push the subject either. He was unwilling to ruin the small measure of camaraderie they'd achieved. Instead he nodded and picked up two more drinks that needed to be delivered.

He finished placing them in front of people who frankly didn't need them, then he returned to Jolee. Anxious to see that smile again. To talk to her. But she was down at the far end of the bar, talking to someone else. He started to clear some of the empty glasses on the tables, giving a wide berth to the she-clown with the roving hands, when he sensed Jolee's agitation.

Over the haze of all the other emotions and scents in the room, hers found its way to him, sharp and unmistakable. He strolled in her direction, watching her as she spoke to the person at the end of the bar. He couldn't sense fear or panic, only a vivid sense of anxiety and… displeasure. Was this guy giving her a hard time?

Stepping behind the bar, he walked the length to stand near her— some distance away, but where he could hear what they were discussing.

"Baby, I thought you'd be happier to see me," the man said.

"Mark, how did you find me?"

"Vance."

"News sure does travel fast."

"This place is pretty nice." The guy ignored her comment and rose up on the rungs of the barstool to look around.

Christian shot the man a quick look. Oily brown hair curled up around the edges of his baseball cap. Light brown eyes topped with large shaggy eyebrows. And a mustache. Christian could smell the grease and cigarette smoke clinging to the man's faded T-shirt and jeans.

"Real nice," Mark said, dropping back on his seat. "You look like you are doing all right for yourself, Jo."

"Why are you here, Mark?"

"Can't your old beau stop by for a visit? Maybe a beer?"

Christian frowned. This unpleasant creature had been a boyfriend of Jolee's? His Jolee.

He paused. His Jolee. He could hardly call her that. When had he even begun to consider her that? Yet he realized that he didn't want to think of that man touching her smooth pale skin with his dirty hands. Or kissing her lush lips. Why on earth would he care? He knew the fact that he wanted to touch her skin and taste her lips was due to his hunger. No other reason.

"One beer," Jolee told Mark and turned to go to the tap.

She saw Christian. She smiled, but not the joyous grin of earlier. She slipped past him, her slender body not making contact with his, but he felt her delicious heat passing over him. A few moments later she slid back by and set the beer in front of Mark. She started to leave him again, but Mark caught her injured arm.

Christian straightened as she winced.

"What happened?" Mark asked, still not releasing his hold. A thumb with dirt under the nail rubbed the edge of the bandage on her arm.

"Just a little accident."

Christian raised an eyebrow at that description. But she wasn't about to give this guy the whole story; she obviously didn't want to talk to him.

"Mark, I do have to get back to work."

To Christian's surprise, he let go of her arm. "Sure. I'm good." Mark drank down half his beer in one swallow.

She slipped back past Christian, going to fill a mug for a man in a green baseball hat at the other end of the bar who'd waved to her.

"Are you okay?" he asked on the way by her.

She nodded, giving him a quick smile that didn't reach her eyes. She turned her attention to topping off the mug. "Sure. Just a guy from my hometown."

He noted that she didn't refer to him as a past boyfriend. He could tell she was still anxious, but he didn't question her further, instead he returned to the floor to take orders.

The evening continued smoothly with both of them working steadily until by about one-thirty most of the patrons had left. Including the woman with the groping hands, to his relief. Only the pool players, the old man who'd occupied a barstool near the tap all evening, and Mark remained.

Christian cleared tables, putting glasses and trash into a gray tub. Not a pleasant job. Jolee worked behind the bar, washing glassware. Probably not a great job either, he decided.

"Jolee," Mark called to her. "I'll take another."

Christian had noted that the one beer Jolee told him he could have had turned into several.

Jolee didn't shout back, nor did she pour him another. Instead she walked back down the bar to speak to him in a hushed tone.

Mark, who had obviously had enough beer, didn't feel the same compulsion. "You're cutting me off. Just like when we were a couple, eh? Always trying to control the situation."

Christian picked up the tub and went behind the bar, placing glasses into the sink.

"Mark, don't make a scene. You've already had too much to drive," Jolee pointed out calmly.

"I can sleep in my truck. Or I can sleep at your place. Can't I, darlin'?"

Jolee shook her head. "No, Mark."

Mark fixed an angry stare at her. "Too good for me now? Vance said you moved away because you thought you were too good for the likes of us."

"That isn't why I left, Mark."

Christian found the man's words interesting, given that she'd just made the same accusation about him earlier tonight. That he thought he was too good. He wondered why she did leave. Moving to Shady Fork couldn't have been that much of an improvement from her hometown. Then he looked at Mark.

Well, maybe it was.

"Mark, you're drunk. Just go out to your truck and sleep it off." She started to walk away, but like earlier, Mark caught her arm. Except this time he gave it a sharp jerk.

Jolee cried out.

Instantly, Christian was at Jolee's side, his fist knotted in the front of Mark's sweaty, worn T-shirt. "Let her go."

Mark, startled and disoriented from the beer he'd drunk, stared down at Christian's hand, then back up to him. Finally he asked Jolee, "Who the hell is this?"

"Let her go," Christian repeated.

Mark did. Jolee stepped back.

"Is this why you left?" Mark demanded.

Jolee didn't respond.

Mark turned his bleary-eyed glare on Christian. "Don't get too riled up about her. She ain't worth it. She's a slut. All the Dugans are lous—»

Christian didn't let him finish, driving a fist right into his insulting mouth. Mark fell against the back of his stool, hanging there, limp and barely conscious. Christian didn't check Jolee's reaction. He jumped over the bar, threw the senseless man over his shoulder, and headed toward the door.

"Christian," Jolee finally called after him.

He turned to find her staring at him with wide, shocked eyes. But he noted she didn't look overly concerned with the unconscious man.

"I'll be right back. As you said, Mark needs to sleep it off in his truck."

He exited the building, but not before he heard the old guy on the stool by the tap say in a gravelly voice, "I like that guy."

Christian had returned, assuring her that Mark was fine and situated safely in his truck. Embarrassed by the whole incident, she'd taken the coward's way out and hidden in the back, working on cashing out the money for the night.

As she punched the numbers into her giant, nearly antique calculator, she couldn't believe the past few days. Could anyone else from her life back in Sawyersville show up? Obviously moving three hours away wasn't far enough.

The worst part was Christian had to step in both times. She didn't want to know what he was thinking of her. But it couldn't be good.

Although, he had been furious about Mark's accusation. She didn't really understand why. The things Mark said weren't nice, they upset her, but why did they upset Christian? After all, he barely knew her.

She blinked, realizing that she'd just been staring at the calculator's gray screen, not really seeing what she'd done. Then she blinked again. That total couldn't be right. She pushed the clear button and started to enter the numbers again, assuming the old machine had a glitch. Or more like she and her wandering mind had.

She hoped that by the time she was done with the money, Christian would be gone. The bar was closed now. He certainly didn't need to stick around. And she didn't want to face him. She didn't even know what to say.

She hit total, then stared at the gray screen. The same amount as before stared back at her. Aside from Mark, she'd had a great night. More than a great night. A fantastic night. If she continued to have nights like this, she would be able to afford to hire someone to help out part-time.

She had Christian to thank for tonight. He'd saved her here, too. He'd been a great waiter. She should go out there and thank him. For everything. But still she hesitated.

What if aloof, condescending Christian was back? She didn't know if her thoroughly injured ego could take more insults. Now he'd really have cause to believe the worst in her. A drugged-out brother. Mark saying she was a slut. She did come from a rough background, but she wasn't like them. And she couldn't deal with Christian thinking she was.

She put the money in the safe, double-checked the lock, closed her accounting book, tidied her pencils and pens into neat rows in her desk drawer, then she realized she couldn't delay going back into the barroom any longer.

She walked in to find the whole place cleaned, and everything ready for closing. Even her side work was done. Glasses washed and put away. The bar and tables wiped down. To her further surprise, Christian and Jed sat at one of the tables, having a drink together.

"There you are," Jed said.

Christian looked in her direction, too. But she couldn't read his gaze. Just those eerie, beautiful eyes, watching her.

"The place looks great. Thanks."

Jed nodded. "Join us in celebrating a good night."

She appreciated the gesture, but all she could think about were the things that had happened that didn't merit celebration.

She glanced at Christian, then shook her head. "I'm pretty tired." She smiled warmly at Jed. "Can I take a raincheck?"

Jed bobbed his head. "Of course you can. You know where to find me."

He stood, his movements stiff. He picked up his package of cigarettes, then extended his hand to Christian.

"Good to meet you, young fella."

Christian nodded, a peculiar expression on his face, another look Jolee didn't understand. He accepted Jed's hand, shaking soundly.

"Nice to meet you, too, Jed."

Jed said good night to Jolee, lighting a cigarette as he walked slowly toward the rear exit. He paused to add, "I hope to see more of you around here, Christian."

Christian nodded, but didn't commit one way or the other.

Her heart sank, and she reprimanded herself for the disappointed feeling. She should be pleased that he didn't seem anxious to come back here. All night she'd told herself that was what she wanted.

She followed Jed to lock the door behind him. "You sure you don't want a snack to take with you? I got an apple in my bag. And pretzels and peanuts, of course."

Jed shook his head. "You worry about yourself, Jolee girl. Rest that arm."

She promised she would, then closed the door and flipped the locks into place. She hesitated before turning back to Christian.

He now stood, still watching her.

"Th-thanks for tonight," she said, feeling nervous and uncertain about being here alone with him. She still wasn't sure about him. About his variable behavior. And his eyes, always studying her, yet she could never read the emotions there. Unnerving, to say the least.

"I'm glad I could help," he said. He walked toward to her, his steps unhurried and graceful.

She fought the urge to step back as he stopped only inches from her. His eyes seemed to devour her. His gaze first locked with hers, drifted to her mouth, then down her body.

"Is your shoulder all right?"

Huh? What shoulder? Did she have a shoulder?