“You know, boss, you don’t need to be here tonight… We can handle it,” Susan tells me as he she lines up bottles of red on the shelves behind the counter.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” I reply off-handedly without even bothering to look at her. Right now my eyes are busy with the scenery on the other side of the main room, where a group of three woman have been sitting for the past hour.

Yeah, if you’re wondering, Emily is part of that group. I recognize her friend, Lana, and there’s a petite brunette with them. They’re already on their second bottle of wine, which means that they’re enjoying themselves. Even though the place is completely packed, as it always seem to be, I can still hear them laugh even though they’re on the far side of the room.

“Hey,” Susan cries out, snapping her fingers in front of my face. “Are you listening to me?”

“What? Of course I was,” I lie. She just laughs at me, running one hand through her hair as she allows her gaze to drift to the table where Emily is sitting.

“Yeah, right… Now I see why you’ve been helping so much during this past week,” she whispers, hitting me in the ribs with her elbow. “She’s pretty,” she continues, pointing with her chin at Emily.

“Yeah, yeah,” I say, waving her down while I do my best not to smile. Of course, my body doesn’t listen to me and a stupid little smile creeps up on my lips.

“Will do,” she laughs, ducking under the counter and emerging on the other side with two bottles of red. She waltzes from table to table, pouring wine as if that’s what she was born to do. Susan’s been with me ever since I opened my first bar in the city, and I doubt I’d have gotten this far if I didn’t have her help. Too lanky to be called attractive, she has one disarming smile that lights up her face with uncharacteristic beauty, which of course, makes her one fine saleswoman. I’m more than proud to call her my right arm.

I look around, trying to spot a table that still hasn’t been serviced, but Susan seems to have the whole room under control. Reaching inside the fridge I keep under the counter, I take out one cold beer and pour it into a curved glass. I lean against the counter, enjoying my beer as I let my mind roam. And, of course, as my mind roams… so do my eyes.

Before I even know it, I’m looking at Emily again, waiting for her to notice me. Even though I’m pretty sure she came into my bar so that I wouldn’t forget about her, she still hasn’t looked at me once. Is that her way of teasing me, or did I assume wrong? Maybe she just came here because my bar is across the street from her apartment?

I don’t know why but, whenever I start thinking about Emily, I can’t help but feel all insecure and shit. Just imagine it, uh? A grown-ass man going all weak in the knees because of a girl he barely knows.

“Looks like there are some eyeballs on your girl, Kirk,” Susan tells me as she comes back behind the counter to put some order through the cashier.

“Huh?”

“Table seven,” she says and my eyes dart there as fast as lightning. There are three guys sitting there, and they’re all looking at Emily’s table. “They’ve been talking about them as well… It seems like the tall one has a thing for your blonde friend.”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” I sigh, finally peeling my eyes off table seven and looking at Susan.

“Always,” she shrugs sheepishly, and then she’s gone once more, carrying a tray full of wine glasses to our demanding customers. By the time I return my gaze to table seven, all three seats are already vacant.

“What the —?” I mutter, and my heart sinks as I realize what’s happening; those three guys are walking toward Emily’s table. The three women are sitting on the couches against the wall, a center table right in front of them, and they’re smiling at the three men coming for her. Oh, seriously? Is Emily going to flirt with some random dude in my fucking bar? Oh, come the fuck on!

Worst thing is, there’s nothing I can do about it. I was the one telling Emily I wanted things to be casual between us, so it’s none of my business who she talks to, except I can’t help but feel a stab of jealousy deep in my heart, which is a new thing for me. I don’t remember ever feeling jealous over a woman. Well, I guess it’s never too late in life to learn new things.

“Alright, let’s get to work,” I whisper to myself, clapping my hands together. Sulking won’t help matters, so I better busy my mind with something else. I start turning on my heels, ready to head back into the warehouse, when I see something out of the corner of my eye.

The tall guy, the one Susan told me was eyeballing Emily, has just sat next to her — and, worse than that, he has already placed a hand on her knee. I look straight at Emily and, despite the distance between us, I can see that she isn’t that comfortable with his approach. As a matter of fact, she has just grabbed his hand and pushed it back.

There’s a problem though: the guy seems to be too drunk too care. He has placed his hand back on Emily’s knee, and now he’s sliding it straight to the hemline of her dress.

Oh, no, motherfucker, not under my watch.

Pushing my half-finished beer to the side, I duck under the counter and start making my way toward Emily.

“Leave the lady alone,” I growl the moment I close in on her table. Giving my newly-made drunk friend a death stare, I fold my arms over my chest and wait for him to acknowledge me. When he looks up at me, his bloodshot eyes tell me one thing only: there’s going to be fucking trouble.

Trouble for him, that is.