Getting Rowdy. Lori Foster
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When Rowdy’s sister had married Detective Logan Riske, Rowdy had inherited a cop as a brother-in-law. She smiled, thinking of how he’d reacted to that. Overall, he didn’t trust the police. But from what she’d seen, he got along well with Logan, and with Detective Reese Bareden, Logan’s partner.
The majority of Rowdy’s background remained a mystery to her, but it didn’t take a psychic to know he’d had a rough life, that he was street-smart and survival savvy. Odds were he’d spent some time on the wrong side of the law, and that accounted for his feelings toward police officers.
Busy washing glasses, Avery didn’t see Rowdy when he came around the back of the bar with her. She turned and ran into him.
Blast the man. “Why do you keep sneaking up on me?”
“Wasn’t sneaking.” Gaze dark with suggestion, he shifted past her. “I’m refilling drinks.”
“Oh. Thanks.” Using chitchat as a cover, Avery tried not to think about seeing him in such a compromising situation earlier. “It’s busy tonight.”
“We’re getting there.” He gave her a quick once-over. “How are you holding up?”
Avery froze. “What do you mean?”
“Like you said, it’s busy. You need any help?”
Oh. Get it together, Avery. Rowdy didn’t care that she had seen him in such a private situation, and that said a lot. “I can handle it. No problem.”
“Let me know if it gets to be too much.” He picked up the tray and started back out to the floor. “I’ll be over in a little while to give you a break.”
“Okay.” Seeing the shift of muscles as he walked away curled her toes in her shoes. Not an uncommon reaction to the sight of him.
A rush of customers kept her too busy to daydream. She liked when things got hopping because it put her in a zone. She found a rhythm and lost herself in the work. She felt...Zen.
When things eased up again, she spotted Rowdy at the back of the bar, inserting himself into an escalating argument between two men and a woman. A chair tipped over. Voices rose.
Before things got out of hand, Rowdy had it back under control. The men subsided. Rowdy had that type of “don’t mess with me” influence. The woman flounced off angrily, and neither of the men attempted to stop her.
Half smiling, Avery watched Rowdy right the chair, which had her recalling how he’d looked during off-hours while working on the bar. The way his biceps bulged when toting heavy equipment. How his thighs flexed when he bent. Those ripped abs when he’d lifted his T-shirt to wipe sweat from his brow.
The sheer pleasure on his face each time he completed a task.
Though Rowdy hadn’t been entirely comfortable with it, he’d gotten help from his new family and friends, too. Seeing them together had taken a little getting used to.
Standing six feet four inches tall, she considered Rowdy supersized. His brother-in-law, Logan, was a few inches shorter, their friend Reese a few inches taller and Logan’s brother, Dash, was a similar height to Rowdy. But physical differences aside, the men couldn’t be more different.
As cops, Logan and Reese were watchful, serious. But Rowdy had a vigilant, even expectant edge to his nature that made him more so. The detectives would relax; Rowdy never seemed to let down his guard.
Logan’s brother, Dash, owned a construction company. From what Avery could tell, he took pride in his work, but once the workday ended, he was all about pleasure. He charmed women with ease.
But again, Rowdy had him beat. An air of danger sharpened everything about Rowdy: his appeal, his looks, his attitude and his capability.
His success with women.
It seemed to her that Rowdy either worked or indulged in female company. Overall he seemed tireless, and very determined to make the bar a success. He stayed after she left, and was almost always there when she arrived.
Today... Well, he’d been there, all right. Really early. Did he often stay the night at the bar? Had he indulged in other liaisons in his office?
Ella approached for a drink order. “Crisis averted,” she quipped, talking about how Rowdy had defused the situation. “He’s the whole package, isn’t he?”
“He does a great job,” Avery agreed.
At thirty-four, Ella was eight years older than her. Unlike Avery, the waitress wore heeled shoes and a low-cut top, and she never stopped smiling. Forever flirting, she called everyone “sweetie” or “sugar,” and she liked to touch. Nothing too intimate, at least not while working. But she did like to get close.
On some women, that barhop personality might seem clichéd, but not on Ella, who was too sincere and far too caring to be anything other than original.
Twining a long lock of her dark brown hair around a finger, Ella leaned on the bar while Avery filled three whiskey shots. “What do you think the meeting is about tonight?”
Avery shrugged. “Rowdy didn’t say, so who knows?”
“Jones was hoping he’d finally get some help in the back. That poor baby works up a sweat every night.”
While Avery would never call the midsixties, lean-and-mean cook a “baby,” she agreed that he had his hands full. Jones, like Ella, was a happy guy. He wore his long graying hair in a ponytail, had more tats than Avery could count, and cursed while cooking—especially during the busier nights.
When possible, one of the waitresses lent him a hand, but those times were few and far between. Rowdy had hoped to keep three waitresses full-time, but only Ella had accepted. The other two, who enjoyed the tips they’d made while dancing the pole, hadn’t appreciated Rowdy’s decision to remove it. They’d dropped to part-time, their schedules rotating so they could pick up work at a club.
“I doubt it has anything to do with the kitchen since we’re getting together late.” With some remodeling still underway, Rowdy often called meetings. If it involved the cook, he’d have collected them before work because the kitchen closed at eleven.
“Well, no matter. He always pays us well when he keeps us over, so I don’t mind.” Ella picked up her tray. “Rowdy sure is something.”
Yeah, he was something all right. Big. Macho.
Oversexed.
Sashaying with each step, Ella strolled away.
Even without the pole, Ella made a killing in tips. But then, it was a busy night, so Avery didn’t do so badly, either.
At 1:00 a.m., when Rowdy gave the last call, Avery was more than ready to call it a night. Twice Rowdy had given her a break, but she’d yet to see him off his feet.
Finally, when the last guest was out the door and Rowdy had locked up, they gathered in the break room. As soon as Avery and Ella took a seat at the round table, Rowdy said, “Sorry, Ella, but we’re switching to a uniform.”
“Why are you sorry, sugar?” Ella crossed her long legs. “I’ve worn uniforms before. Some of them are real cute.”
“Not this kind.” Rowdy laid out the black, unisex, crew neck T-shirt with the bar name on the front in neon yellow. “Nothing sexy, Ella. I want everyone wearing the shirt with jeans.” He shook an apron from a bag. “And one of these.”
Avery eyed the black utilitarian aprons with the same logo as the T-shirts. “I like them.”
Ella looked horrified.
“You get three each. If I could, I’d pony up one for each day of the week, but hopefully, for now, these’ll get you through.”
“You’ll look incredible, Ella,” Avery told her. “It’ll be like a tease. All the men will wonder what they’re not seeing.”