Getting Rowdy. Lori Foster
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image of Rowdy involved in such an intimate act. How he’d looked, how he’d sounded. So hot.
Being honest with herself, she knew that jealousy ran hand in hand with curiosity. They didn’t have an agreement, so he hadn’t betrayed her in any way. But she still felt...a lot.
Rowdy lived life by his own rules. How freeing might that be?
He took care of his business and accepted his responsibilities, but when it came to personal relationships, he avoided commitments and instead indulged a healthy sexual appetite. She wasn’t as pathetically naive now as she’d been a year ago, but she knew a badass bad boy like Rowdy was so far out of her realm of experience that it left her dizzy.
She couldn’t play with him without getting burned. She couldn’t indulge him without risking a broken heart.
Sadly, there wasn’t anything she could do with him—except work—so she might as well put anything more intimate from her mind.
But now that she’d seen him during a release...
No, Avery told herself, stop thinking about it!
Not even Rowdy was around when she returned and began rushing through her setup. She had enough to do that for a while, she managed not to stew.
At 3:00 p.m., only half an hour before he needed to open the doors, Rowdy strode in. Wearing faded jeans and a black T-shirt, freshly showered and with his hair still damp, he looked as delicious as ever.
She braced herself for the inevitable awkwardness, what Rowdy would say, what she would say.
It didn’t happen.
Rowdy went right to work setting up. Jones, the newly hired cook, and Ella, one of the three waitresses, also bustled about. The prep work kept them all too busy for chitchat.
She looked away as Rowdy stocked the cash register with small bills and change. She occupied herself elsewhere when he set up the dry-erase board with the day’s specials. She chatted up Ella while Rowdy did a general run-through of the bar.
But all the while, she was far too aware of him.
Rowdy, damn him, acted as if nothing had happened.
Maybe, for him, it hadn’t been a big deal at all. Maybe getting busted in an intimate sex act was something he took in stride.
He did repeatedly look her way. Avery knew because she felt it every time. The man had a way of looking that felt more like a hot, physical touch.
As the night wore on and customers crowded in, Avery’s tension grew. She’d expected Rowdy to confront her, at the very least to ask her why she’d been in the bar so early.
But he didn’t.
Was he avoiding her? Well, he’d have to eventually talk with her, but she wanted to put it off as long as possible. She still had to figure out what to say.
Best-case scenario, she’d follow his lead and play it off like it hardly had an impact at all.
During the dinner hour, while much of the crowd ordered off the limited menu, Avery took the time to tidy her work area. She didn’t have a barback so keeping the bar prepared was one of her main responsibilities. Whenever possible, she reorganized things.
Hustling along the length of the countertop, she grabbed up empty straw wrappers and cocktail napkins and wiped up a few spills. When she turned toward the sink, she almost plowed into Rowdy. Stumbling back two steps, taken off guard, she scowled up at him. “What?”
He didn’t seem to mind her acerbic tone. “Going to ignore me all night?”
A deep inhalation didn’t help. She said without thinking, “You were ignoring me.”
“No.” He turned them both so that he blocked her from view of the customers. “But every time I looked at you, you got so red faced I thought you might faint.”
Yeah, and now that he mentioned it, heat scalded her cheeks. Hoping to exude disinterest, Avery tried to elbow him out of her way. He was so rock solid that she didn’t budge him a single inch, so she stepped around him with haste. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Bull.” He crossed his arms and leaned back on the bar. “We have to talk about it.”
At the breaking point, she started to blast him, but instead got caught up in the flex of his biceps, how his soft cotton T-shirt stretched over his chest, how the denim of his jeans had faded over his...fly.
Stifling a groan, she set out more napkins and clean glasses just to give her hands something to do—other than reach for him. “About what?”
“Avery,” he chastised. “You know what I’m talking about.”
A spark of temper smashed through some of her embarrassment. She gave a quick glance around, but no one was close enough to overhear. “Are you talking about your inappropriate behavior in your office?”
“Yeah.” The corner of his mouth lifted in a smile. “That.”
Well, if he could be so blasé, she would be, too. “Sorry about interrupting. Hope you didn’t—” she almost choked “—stop on my account.”
“I’d just finished anyway—but then, you know that, don’t you?”
Breath strangled in her throat.
He lowered his voice to a husky rumble. “I mean, since you watched.”
Shooting up to her tiptoes, Avery growled, “I was shocked! And actually, I figured you two had stayed at it for hours after I fled the scene.”
“No.” His humor faded until he looked far too serious. “I’m sorry you walked in on that.”
Before she could censor her mouth, she heard herself say, “But you’re not sorry you did it?”
As if sizing her up, Rowdy watched her without replying.
Good grief. Rushing, Avery pulled out the bags of peanuts and pretzels to refill the bowls. “Forget I said that. Not my business.”
“I’ve asked you—”
“I know you have,” she said, a little too loud and way too fast. Her rusty laugh wouldn’t convince anyone. “And if not me, then someone else, right?” Anyone else.
Way to make her feel special.
“Avery—”
She plopped the bowl up on the bar so hard that peanuts jumped out. “Believe me, Rowdy, I get it.”
“I don’t think you do.”
For whatever reason, that really annoyed her. Hands on her hips, her cheeks hot, she faced him. “You want sex. Constantly.”
He glanced around, then took her arm and pulled her aside again. “Keep it down, why don’t you?”
Already on a roll, she continued. “With any willing woman. I’m not ready, so you—”
“It’s not like that.”
“No?” Just shut up, Avery. But of course she didn’t. Around Rowdy, she lost much of her control. “Then how exactly is it?”
He dismissed that question with a shake of his head and asked one of his own. “What do you mean you’re not ready?”
Oh, crap.
Shifting closer, his gaze bored into hers. “You haven’t asked me to wait, Avery. Not once. All I’ve heard from you is a flat no.”
She stared up at him—and badly wanted to say, Wait.
As if he knew her thoughts, he whispered, “Avery—” and the bar’s landline phone rang, cutting off whatever Rowdy had planned to say.
She started to reach for it, but he beat her to it.
Watching