Chapter Two: Alexa
I slept until two in the afternoon. It was a Saturday, so I didn’t feel too bad about it. That and I was up very late. I wrote checks to pay all my bills and ate old Chinese fried rice. It didn’t satisfy me at all, but I had to get to the bar to put another application in. I might as well have dreamed about that hiring sign. I imagined it there a hundred times before, but I never thought it would be up again.
I wore jeans with no holes, and a respectable tee shirt. I let my hair down and wore comfortable sneakers for the walk. I was so nervous; I clutched the folder with my resume in it so tight it crinkled. There wasn’t much on it but proof of graduating high school and all the bars I had hopped around working for the past few years.
I was prepared to beg them not to put my resume in some obscure pile. I had to stand my ground and get the job. The sign had only just come up that night, so I knew I had to be of the first few to apply. But then I thought, what if they just choose someone else from a back list? It was very possible, especially if they needed the position filled quickly.
I reached the door and just hoped that I wasn’t too late.
It was four PM, so there weren’t many people, but the place wasn’t empty either. It had an old look to it, and it kind of felt like stepping into Ireland for real. All the tables were an old, worn wood. And there were a lot of them nicely placed. A room off to the left held billiards and such, and longer wooden tables. I looked back to the bar, on the right wall from the door. Behind the big, black wood bar was a wall of impressive alcohol collections. Most were Irish brands, of course, but they had all the common stuff as well. There were three people on the stools but no one behind the bar.
My spirits lifted slightly.
I took a deep breath and stepped forward, I wondered if I should have made an appointment. I had no idea where any of the employees were. Each time I was here I had only seen a bartender. I didn’t frequent because I didn’t really have friends and didn’t like going alone, but the women around always talked about how hot the owners were. Apparently, they were three guys, one of them still had an Irish accent, but I always thought that they were a myth.
I heard noise in the kitchen, and it seemed to be the best place to look since no one was out waiting tables. How did they do so well if they had virtually no staff? I shrugged it off and peered in the kitchen window, but couldn’t see anything. Hmm. I went around the other side to the wide window backed up to the billiard room, where people pick their food up. I guess that’s why there is no wait staff, I never ordered food here to figure that out.
From there though, I could see where the cook was. Though he looked nothing like a chef. His back was to me, and he had a shoulder piece on his right rear delt of a Celtic cross. It was very intricate, with lines and thorns that told a story. And the rest of him…goodness. His shoulders were broad, wide, and an imitation of boulders. I shook the course of heat from my body and got his attention.
“Excuse me?” I called out, hoping he would hear me over the noise. He seemed to be stirring some sort of broth.
He turned quickly, his bright blue eyes a contrast to his dark, cut hair. “Yeah?” He boomed, looking me over. His eyes left a trail of heat, and I knew he was checking me out.
“I saw your sign out front, I was hoping I could meet with the manager about the open bartender position.”
He licked his lips before he smirked. I swallowed a forming lump in my throat.
“Sure. Wait there.” He nodded and wiped his hands on a towel. He disappeared behind the back door.
I shifted on my feet and aimlessly watched the baseball game playing. There were five flat screens strategically placed on the walls.
“This is her?” A deeper voice appeared close behind me. I turned slowly, knowing he was talking about me. I turned just in time to see them exchange some silent wink and nod.
“I’m Kellan Asher. You can come in my office.” The myth was actually true, his accent was toe curling. The drawl of it, and the harshness. Like ice hitting rock.
He was tall, and his jeans and gray Henley fit him like a second skin. I got more and more nervous with each step, but I gave myself a pep talk. Reminding myself how much I wanted and needed this job.
His office was small and very normal, nothing stood out except him. He pulled a chair from the far wall and set it in front of his desk. I sat and stared back at him blinking before I realized I was still holding my resume.
“The barkeep job, right?” He asked as he took it.
“Yes.”
His eyes lingered across my body for a moment. I didn’t mind because I was checking him out too. His forearms were almost the size of my thighs, he hulked over the desk with his muscular body. His hair was dark and wavy, but his eyes a glowing green. The lines of his face were hard, but his lips soft. I kept imagining them doing very dirty things to me, right here in this office.
“You have a lot of experience.” He commented after a long moment.
“Um, yes.” I wasn’t sure how to answer. “I’m really good, and reliable. I’ve wanted to work here for a long time.” I added. Now I didn’t want to sound desperate, but I wasn’t above voicing how much I wanted the job.
“Really?” He smirked.
“Yeah.”
He set my paper aside and leaned back, looking me over. “You would look good in the uniform. Really good.” His eyes bore a heat into mine and I matched it, because the world’s sharpest knife couldn’t even cut the sexual tension in here.
“Does that mean I have the job?” I managed.
He answered by standing up, and going into the file cabinet. He took out a small black top and handed it to me. I looked up at him as I swallowed the moisture in my mouth.
“Yes.”
I smiled wide as I took the shirt and stood, offering to shake his hand. “Thank you.” I gleamed, but he didn’t let go of my hand.
Instead his eyes met mine again as he licked his full, pink bottom lip. “You could try it on here. Make sure it fits.” His voice was deep but it seemed to drop even another octave.
“Here?” I arched a brow.
“Here. If you want.” He shrugged and let me go. But I knew the truth; he wanted me.
I took off my shirt, not even hesitating because who the hell was I kidding? I wanted him too. And I was so happy to have the job. Maybe I got it because he had the hots for me—who cares. I know I’m qualified. His eyes burned through my bra, but it stayed on. The shirt was a crop top, with the shamrock logo of the bar on it. And it was comfortable, the sleeves just past my shoulders.
“How do I look?” I whispered. He looked me over, his chest emanating a growl.
“Fucking perfect.”