She was a fool!
Stowing her purse in her locker the next evening Erin closed the metal door and turned the lock with a hard snap.
What made her think that giving in to her fascination for Turk Rogan was a good idea?
It was insanity.
It was a recipe for a broken heart.
Smoothing her hands down the sides of her black skirt before adjusting the black vest over her white long-sleeved shirt, Erin forced herself to still the hurt. Taking a deep, steadying breath she then forced herself to leave the lounge.
Saturday night at the Broken Bar was always too busy, too loud, and filled with far too much excitement. At least for the customers.
Pushing through the swinging doors she ducked her head, pretended to adjust the rolled-back sleeves of her cotton shirt and slid behind the bar where Jake was already prepping for a busy night.
“Hey, Jake. Everyone,” she greeted the head bartender as well as the rest of the Broken Bar family gathered around the bar.
The owner, Ethan Cooper, and his wife, Sarah, head of security, Casey, and his wife, Sheila, and the other security personnel gathered there.
“Lookin’ good Miss Erin,” Iron Donovan greeted her with his customary flirtatiousness.
“Smack him, Erin.” Sarah laughed. “He’s watching your backside again.”
“Hey, it’s a damned pretty backside,” Iron complained.
“Dig your hole deeper, Iron.” Nick chuckled as his wife whispered something in his ear.
Sliding past Jake, Erin shook her head at the lot of them, though she noticed Turk wasn’t joining in that evening as he usually did.
“The lot of you need to attend those sexual harassment classes again,” she chided them, unable to hide her smile. “You weren’t paying attention at the last one.”
“We didn’t pay attention to the one before that, either,” Iron snickered. “We were too busy staring at that cute little instructor’s legs.”
“Cut it out, asshole.” Turk’s tone was dark and lacking any sort of amusement.
Erin lifted her head slowly, the sharp retort hovering on her lips forestalled by Jake’s next comment.
“Hey, Erin, you did good last night.” Growly, not in the least given as most managers to give a compliment. This compliment had everyone staring at the fierce former Ranger in shock.
Erin blinked back at him, frozen in the act of sitting a shot glass on the prep counter as her eyes widened.
Panic had her heart in her throat, trepidation drying out her mouth as she hurriedly glanced at Cooper. He was suddenly staring at the scarred top of the wood bar rubbing slowly at his jaw.
She turned back to Jake, swallowing nervously.
“What did I do wrong?” she asked, trying desperately to remember what she might have forgotten.
His glare darkened.
“Did I say you did something wrong?” he barked.
She just barely controlled a flinch.
“Well, no, but the last bartender you complimented ran out twenty minutes later sobbing hysterically.” She heard that story several times. “I’d feel better if you just told me where I messed up now so I can fix it.”
His lips tightened, his fierce expression nearly frightening as his jaw bunched.
“Little girl,” he snarled. “Learn how to take a friggin’ compliment!”
His attitude sucked on a good day.
This obviously wasn’t one of his good days.
Feeling everyone’s eyes on her now she managed to dry another shot glass and place it on the counter in front of her.
“Thanks, Jake,” she murmured. “I’ll try to do better next time.”
Jake didn’t give compliments.
She’d been warned of that by Jake himself.
“Damned women,” he muttered behind her. “This is what I get. Next time, Miss Masters, try remembering where everything belongs before you leave.”
She turned back to him. “What was left out of place?”
Nothing had been left out and she knew it.
“Your good senses not to mention your supposed good taste,” he informed her with another glare. “Get those damned glasses done.”
Turning back to the far-too-attentive audience his eagle-like gaze moved to Turk accusingly before he turned and busied himself with the drink bottles that sat in front of the mirrored wall.
“Well, that was interesting.” Iron smirked back at her. “Care to explain it?”
“Frightening is more like it.” She casted Jake a wary look as she hurriedly finished the glasses. “You explain it first.”
Only Turk seemed unconcerned with what had occurred. Leaning against the end of the bar, his arms crossed over his chest, he seemed to be glaring at Jake through the mirror behind the bar.
“Okay, children, playtime’s over,” Cooper announced as he rose from the barstool. “Iron, you can let the VIPs in now. Casey, you and Morgan get the bouncers in place. Turk, you have security at the bar tonight, Morgan has lead. Let’s see if we can get some work done.”
The change in positions was surprising. Even Jake seemed perplexed by them as he sent Cooper a probing glance.
Not that Cooper’s expression changed. But whatever Jake saw in it, it had him smirking for a second before his expression turned fierce once again.
Moments later the VIP guests were milling in from the large backroom where drinks and appetizers were provided by the chef in the newly built kitchen.
The VIPs were the politicians, entertainers, and even suspected criminals considered powerful regulars, as well as their guests. They were shown in through a private entrance to the comfortable guest lounge on the other side of the main bar area. Watching their faces unobtrusively, Erin memorized their features, filing each in a mental category she would later list in her report.
“Well, hello again, pretty thing.” A Corpus Christi talent scout, Tyler Stanley, took a seat in front of her, his smug expression as off-putting tonight as ever. “Change your mind about dinner yet?”
He’d been inviting her out as long as she’d worked there.
“Not tonight, Tyler,” she declined again. “Sorry.”
He normally took her refusal good-naturedly.
“Are you ever going to say yes?” he demanded, his dark eyes narrowing as his patience was obviously wearing thin.
“Probably not.” She sighed, as though in regret. “I told you, I’m involved with someone.” It was her standard excuse. She refused to go out with sleazeballs. Tyler Stanley was a sleazeball. “I’ll get you a drink though. Another whiskey sour?” she suggested, nodding to his nearly empty glass.
He accepted the drink, obviously still angry. Thankfully, he moved from the bar to make his way to one of the tables occupied by several less savory individuals.
The VIP guests kept her for the next half hour then the rush through the front entrance began.
Halfway through the night a third bartender moved in behind her as bodies packed around the counter and orders flew in. There was little chance to consider Jake’s odd behavior or Turk’s.
Later, she promised herself. She would think about it later. Because she had no doubt Turk had something to do with it.