“Hey, Rainbow? Think you can handle helping Clint unload the dishwasher? They’re short-handed back there.”

I’m sort of being a dick to Callie, calling her Rainbow in reference to her brief clown stint at Tom’s the other night. But she still needs to do the rounds here and get experience at every workstation.

Callie’s head snaps up and her eyes flare, practically screaming, I’m contemplating stabbing you with one of the cocktail toothpick swords right now. A slight flush spreads across her cheekbones, and I itch to skim my thumbs along them.

What the fuck? I need to get a hold of myself.

Her mouth presses firmly into a thin line before she responds with a clipped, “Got it covered.” She quickly disappears into the back, and I’m more than slightly disappointed. I really wanted—hell, I expected—her to war with me a little more. Sure didn’t expect her to give in so quickly.

It’s been a slow day, the torrential downpour deterring even our most loyal patrons from coming in. Hurricane season is upon us, much earlier than expected, and we’re experiencing the effects of a tropical storm churning in the nearby Atlantic. I’ve done inventory, stocked everything that needs to be stocked, and cleaned the bar to the point it’s beyond pristine.

Now, I’m bored as hell, which is why I had to send Callie in the back. Because my eyes kept roving to wherever she was. I’d find my eyes tracking her movements as she swept the floors beneath all the tables, wiped the tables down, and even cleaned the inside of our windows. The way she stretched so sinuously, like a feline practically begging to be pet, was driving me fucking insane.

Because I want to pet her. Make no mistake about that. But I sure as shit don’t want to pet her anyplace innocent. In fact, I can picture her perched here upon the bar. She’d spread her thighs to allow me between them, I’d shove up her pencil skirt, and we’d both watch as my hand slipped beneath—

Christ. I adjust myself as discreetly as possible, grateful I’m alone out here behind the bar.

“Reid, man, I got a huge favor to ask you.” I whip my head around to face Clint, who’s just emerged from the back with a troubled expression on his face. “My wife just got into a car accident. Someone hydroplaned.” He holds up his hand when my lips part in alarm. “She’s fine. Just bruised and a few cuts they said needed stitches, but they took her to the hospital. I need to head there now. Tom said he’ll probably have you close early and to just close the kitchen, so do you mi—”

“Go,” I instantly respond. I nod toward the large glass doors which have zero visibility from the pelting rain. “Drive safe. Call me if you need anything.”

His features relax infinitesimally. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”

Clint leaves a moment later, and the place almost seems eerie. The sound of the rain hitting the roof and windows nearly drowns out the music playing in the bar.

I crouch beneath the bar to where the satellite radio console sits. I might as well change it since no one’s here aside from me, Callie, and Tom, who’s in his office working on some paperwork. I flip through some stations until I stop on one that’s currently playing a Matchbox Twenty song I haven’t heard in a while.

I’ve already tossed the trash into the dumpster, luckily before the rain hit, and this bar is so clean it practically gleams beneath the lights. Leaning back against the lacquered wood, I fold my arms against my chest and survey the place in an attempt to find something—anything—that might keep me busy for a few more minutes.

And promptly fail.

“Well, hell,” I mutter under my breath. That means the only other option is to head back to the kitchen and see if Clint forgot any tasks in his haste to go see his wife.

I grimace because this also means I have to be in the same space as Callie.

“Since when did you start turning into such a goddamn wuss?” I scrub a hand over my jaw, noting with dismay that I’ve also started to talk to myself.

It’s all Callie’s damn fault, of course. The woman makes me crazy.

Sighing in resignation, I stalk back to the kitchen. If someone braves this damn storm and enters the bar, I’ll hear it as soon as they open the door; the obscene roaring of the wind and the pinging sounds of the rain are exceptionally loud.

I draw to a stop at the kitchen entrance and take a moment to observe Callie. She’s unaware of my presence, humming off-key to the song currently playing softly in the background as she empties one dishwasher, just as the other one beside it dings to signify the wash and sanitizing cycle is complete. I watch as Callie opens the machine and leans away, the steam pouring out.

“Be careful, Rainbow. That thing’s hotter than Hades.”    

She doesn’t turn around, but I see her spine stiffen perceptively. Her tone is curt. “I don’t need you to monitor me like a child.”     

My jaw clenches in irritation. “Just a reminder. The other one had cooled off already when you unloaded it, right? And I’m guessing you don’t have much experience with commercial grade, high-temp dishwashers. Unless that’s included in your beer connoisseur skills?” I shouldn’t dig into her like this. We’ve finally got to a good place, and I’m going into self-sabotage mode. Because Callie is in direct conflict with what I want.        

Her head snaps around, her eyes narrowed to slits. “Go scrub the bar or something. I don’t need a sitter.”        

She turns and reaches for a plate in the dishwasher. Withdrawing it from the rack, she instantly drops it with a yelp. The plate shatters, shards scattering over the kitchen floor, and she cradles her hand to her chest. In three quick strides, I’m standing at her side.        

“Let me see.” I encircle her wrist with my fingers, striving to ignore the way I respond to merely touching her.        

“No.” She practically pouts, tugging her hand away, but I don’t relent.        

With an exasperated growl, I drag her over to the deep sinks and turn on the cold water. “Run some cold water on it, at least.” I tug at her wrist again, and she finally allows me to see her hand.        

“Shit,” I say. Her palm is an angry shade of red, and I swear I can feel the heat radiating from her marred flesh. My gaze flickers up to hers, and she instantly averts her eyes. I guide her palm beneath the stream of water, tensing when the cool water touches her burned skin and she hisses. “Seriously, you need to be more careful around these things.”

“Go ahead and say it!” she erupts before continuing, her tone a snarl. “Why are you so dumb, Callie? You should have known better. You’re not good enough for this job...” She trails off, and I peer over at her, but she’s staring at her hand cradled in mine. She finishes on what’s barely a whisper, laced with pain. “Or anything. Leave it to good ole Reid to swoop in and save the day.”     

Fuck. She looks so defeated right now. And I know I’m responsible for this. I’ve been a colossal dick to her, and really, it’s not her fault Tom chose her for this position. Obviously, he sees potential in her.     

Somehow, I’ve become a damn bully. And to a woman, no less.

Stellar. Just fucking stellar.

I yank the handle with far more force than necessary, shutting off the water, and grab a clean towel from a small pile nearby. Carefully, I pat around the burn to dry her hand gently. Once the moisture is gone, I find that I’m unable to let go of her hand. Instead, I stand here, transfixed as I track my thumb’s movement. I continue to graze the unscathed area along the side of her palm and drag the calloused pad up to the pulse point in her wrist.     

“W-what are you doing?” Her voice is breathless.

Her pulse is erratic as I skim my thumb over it in a sweeping stroke. “I’m sorry.” I raise my eyes to lock with her surprised ones.     

She wrinkles her brow. “For what? You’re not the idiot who burned herself on a dang plate and—”

“Stop.” My tone is low yet commanding, and her lips part in surprise. “Don’t self-deprecate like that. Ever.” I press my lips thin before I add, “You’re smart, Callie. You’re just learning the ropes. And you have a gift with people. Customers love you. You’re funny and kind.”

Her gaze narrows, and the edges of her lips turn up ever so slightly. “Why are you saying these things? You’ve made it your mission to prove otherwise.”

“Because they’re true. I’ve been an ass to you when you don’t deserve it.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you. Can you repeat that?”

“I’ve been an a...” At the slight quivering of the corners of her mouth, I pause and purse my lips. “Okay, smartass, I’m not repeating myself.”

“Better be careful. It almost sounds as though you…like me, Reid,” she teases softly, and I’m thankful her eyes are no longer shadowed by defeat and self-recrimination.     

The words spill past my lips before I know it, and my voice drifts over us in a husky caress. “I like you more than you realize.”     

In the far depths of my mind, I recognize that my head’s descending, bringing my face closer to hers. My eyes flick to her lips when she whispers, “You do?”     

Our lips are barely a hairsbreadth away when I utter my response. “I do.”

Suddenly, she raises, closing the distance, and our lips meet in a kiss that’s carnal and passionate. My tongue sweeps inside, and the instant hers darts against it, I groan and release my hold on her hand to cup her nape. My fingers move to her hair and unhook the clip holding it up, tossing it to the floor. There’s a tiny ping of metal as it clatters to the floor. Instantly, I thread my fingers into her silky hair.

I press my body against hers, relishing in the sensation of her soft, lush curves melting against my firm, muscled ones. The way she clutches at my biceps, and the tiny little sound that erupts in the back of her throat when I nudge my growing hardness against her spurs me on.       

“Reid? You back here?”     

We jump apart, both of us breathing heavily, and I quickly say, “Smooth your hair,” before I call out to Tom, “I’m helping Callie in the kitchen.” She quickly bends down to grab her hair clip and attempts to twist it up and secure it.

It’s a shame that her hair’s tied back again. I prefer the slightly mussed version from my fingers gripping it during our kiss. I can’t manage to tear my eyes off Callie. The way her lips are rosy and dewy, her eyes still tinged with a haze of lust, and the way her chest still heaves slightly.

From me. All from me. I can’t restrain the fierce surge of pride knowing I’m the reason for her reactions.

Her fingers smooth over her hair one final time before she turns away to grab the broom and dustpan to sweep the ceramic shards from the shattered plate.

“I think we can close up,” Tom says from behind me.

I grab the towel again and let it drape from my hands and cover my lingering hard-on before I spin around to face Tom.

“Sounds good. I’ll get things in order,” I say.

His eyes flicker down to the floor before rising to mine in question. “Everything okay?”

“Yes, sir. Just a little accident. Nothing to worry about.” I force a light, casual air to my voice.

“Okay, then. If you and Callie are good, I’m going to head home.”

“Drive safely,” I say.

“You, too.”

His footsteps quickly fade away as he strides down the hall toward the back exit.

I slump in relief at the close call. The last thing I need is to get caught making out like a high schooler.

Especially not with the person who’ll be your new boss next month.

That thought puts immediate ice on whatever just happened between me and Callie.

Tossing the towel on the counter, I scrub a hand down my face wearily, barely registering the sound of Callie sweeping and disposing of the broken plate in the trash.

I need to put myself in check. Things haven’t changed. She’s still the same person who’s in the way of my goal.

Steeling my jaw, I keep my back to her because I know if I look in her eyes, I’ll weaken like a damn pussy. “I’ll lock up. Finish up in here, will you?” I don’t mention anything about the kiss. Nothing about how her taste is still on my lips.

With those words, I rush out of the kitchen, barely catching her muttered profanity with my name included in it.

And I can’t for the life of me figure out who I’m more angry with right now.

Her or me.