Rayne

The small town in Tennessee where my car broke down seemed as good as any other. I was making my way out west with no particular destination in mind. If the mood struck me, I’d stop in some random place and stay for a while. It would only take a few days to get it repaired, but I took it as a sign that my Jeep brought me here before sputtering and popping…something, under the hood.

I found a room for rent above a small shop downtown and paid cash to stay there for a month. The landlord gave me directions to a local watering hole and I wandered over there to see if they needed some temporary help. Bartending was how I’d paid for college and it was usually the easiest gig to find whenever I stayed somewhere longer than a couple of days.

Luckily, it was the height of summer and Stumble In was happy to have extra, experienced help for however long I was willing to stay.

The weekend arrived, and my first shift was Friday night. I walked into the dimly lit bar wearing leather pants and a sleeveless, leather vest that had a transparent, lace back. I had on kick-ass, high heel boots that laced up my calves and took my five-foot-seven height up another four inches. My long brown hair was slicked back into a pony tail and I’d gone with a smokey look around my almond-shaped eyes, and clear gloss on my lips.

I smiled at the owner as I headed for the bar. He responded with a chin lift and walked toward the back where his office was. Another bartender was already working on getting everything set up for the weekend crowd. She nodded at me in greeting, and I responded in kind before pitching in to help.

The bar began to fill up and by late evening, it was packed. I had no complaints though; my tip jar was overflowing. As usual, the majority of my customers were men and it didn’t escape my notice that I was getting the evil eye from most of the women hanging around. It took practiced self-control not to roll my eyes at their blatant come-ons and trashy outfits. Colored bras, white tank tops, and ass revealing skirts? Seriously?

“It’s like they all got stuck in the nineties, right?” A female voice caught my attention. I snickered as I faced a smiling, beautiful woman with long brown hair and striking green eyes. She was wearing jeans, an off the shoulder, purple sweater, and minimal makeup.

I instantly liked her, and I smiled back. “I guess someone forgot to send me the memo about the dress code.”

The woman looked me up and down then whistled appreciatively. “Whatever, you look badass. I’d love to be able to pull off your look.” She glanced behind her; her eyes going to a table that almost had my jaw dropping. Four of the most beautiful men I’d ever seen in my life sat around it. “I’m married to the one in the green shirt with the buzz cut,” she said when she looked back at me. Then she grimaced slightly. “I should probably warn you about my husband’s brothers. I love them, but they have a bit of a reputation…”

I laughed and shook my head as I poured a shot for the customer next to her. “I can handle myself, trust me.”

“I believe it.” She held out her hand and introduced herself. “I’m November Mayson.”

I wiped my hand on a bar rag before clasping hers. “Rayne Summers.” I chuckled at the look on her face. “Yeah, my parents are part hippie, part gypsy. At least they stopped just short of being too literal and spelled it R-A-Y-N-E.”

She laughed. “I’m not one to judge. My mother named me after the month I was born because she couldn’t be bothered to think up anything else.” I frowned in sympathy, but she waved it off with a laugh. “My husband convinced me to make a tradition out of it and we named our daughter July.” Her eyes sparkled when she talked about her family and it caused a pang in my chest that was gone as quickly as it had appeared. “We should have lunch sometime.”

“I’ll only be here for a few weeks, but I’d love that,” I responded. “What can I get you?”

“Two Coronas with lime.”

I grabbed the bottles and popped the tops before setting them on the bar. She started to give me cash, but I waved it away. “On the house. Consider it an award for winning best dressed in this costume parade.”

November laughed as she grabbed a napkin. She quickly wrote her number down and slid it across the bar.

“Yo, Sis!” One of the gorgeous men yelled. “Pool table is free.” November turned and lifted a beer in acknowledgment.

“Give me a call,” she said before she started weaving her way back to their table.

I went about serving the line in front of me when the back of my neck started to tingle, and I suddenly felt eyes on me. Glancing around the bar, I almost skipped over the culprit, but something drew my gaze back to him.

He was just as handsome as the guys hanging with November, yet he was their exact opposite. His dirty blond hair was a little messy, but his pressed, button-down shirt, khaki’s, and loafers (loafers??) screamed “boy next door.” However, the look on his face didn’t fit the persona.

The table was close enough that I could see his eyes were blue and currently, fixed on me. They were dark and turbulent with lust and a possessive gleam. There was something else though, churning under the surface, something I didn’t recognize.

His scrutiny should have made me uncomfortable, especially because he was so not my type. Instead, I felt the heat of his gaze everywhere his eyes touched. The tingle I’d felt on the back of my neck was spreading to other, more intimate places.

I stared him down for a minute, expecting him to get uncomfortable and break eye contact first. I was shocked when his gaze only darkened further, and he smirked while raising a taunting eyebrow.

Well, fuck. I couldn’t remember the last time I wasn’t able to intimidate a guy into backing off. It threw me off balance, and I almost dropped the bottle of tequila I was holding. To my relief, another guy stepped up to the bar and I was able to turn my attention to him.

Through the rest of the night, I couldn’t help sneaking glances back at the clean-cut guy with the loafers and the dangerous eyes.

It wasn’t unusual for me to be constantly hit on while serving. I was used to it and brushed the men off with my normal ease. However, with every guy who attempted to get more than drinks from me, Loafers’ expression burned hotter. It made me want to dump the container of ice over my head to cool off.

The only time he looked away from me during the whole night was when one of the men from November’s table stopped to talk to him. November joined them for a minute, then the man walked away laughing and November followed shortly, her expression suspicious as she glanced between Loafers and me. Loafers’ eyes returned to me, but they now held a hint of curiosity in their depths.

Finally, it was last call and Loafers was still sitting at his table, all alone now. I started to clean up when the sensation on the back of my neck went from a tingle to a burn. Like magnets, my eyes were drawn up where they locked on Loafers who was slowly approaching the bar.