Chapter Three
Eden
Six Months Later
Another bar, another rejection. I’d been to cocktail bars, dive bars, nightclubs, and now this rooftop bar. They all wanted someone with experience. How did you get experience unless someone gave you a shot? I considered my options as I washed my hands in the restroom. I’d only been in Brooklyn for three weeks, but I was burning through my savings. Dreams didn’t come cheap. Neither did crappy apartments in Williamsburg.
I studied my reflection in the mirror. Did I reek of desperation? I’d never had a problem getting a job before. I looked down at my outfit—a floaty floral mini dress and suede ankle boots. Maybe it wasn’t sending the right message?
What is wrong with me? I used to have confidence.
“Hey,” a girl said, coming into the restroom.
“Hey.”
She stopped in front of me and gave me a big smile. She was pretty, with long auburn hair and a sprinkle of freckles on her nose. “I’m Hailey.”
“Eden.”
“I was sitting with some friends, and I may have been shamelessly eavesdropping. You’re looking for a bartending job, right?”
I nodded, even though I was thinking I should expand my job search into other areas.
“It’s all about who you know. Most of these jobs are taken before you even get in the door. But I happen to know one of the bartenders at Trinity Bar got fired last night so you need to get your butt over there pronto.”
“Why did the bartender get fired?”
She shrugged. “Can’t really say. I was too busy crushing on the other bartender, Zeke. He’s total eye candy. Anyway…the guy you need to speak to is Killian Vincent. He’s…” Hailey furrowed her brow and tapped her finger against her chin. When she couldn’t come up with the words to describe him, she shrugged in defeat. “I’m not sure what he is. He’s total eye candy too, if you like them dark and brooding. Personally, I’m more attracted to sunshine and light. To each their own. Give me your phone. I’ll type in the info.”
I handed her my phone, and she pulled up the bar on Google maps. “There you go.” Hailey handed back my phone and smiled. “Good luck.”
“Thanks. I really appreciate it.”
“No problem. Hope I see you behind the bar next time I stop by,” she said, disappearing into a stall.
Twenty minutes later, I was standing behind the cover of a white van across the street from Trinity Bar watching a guy talking on his cell. He backed up to the edge of the sidewalk and looked up at the hulking steel towers of the Williamsburg Bridge rising in the background, or the flat roof of the building, I wasn’t sure. Whatever he was looking at didn’t make him happy. He was pacing in a small area, like an animal trapped in a cage. A sleek, powerful animal.
A black fitted T-shirt accentuated his broad shoulders and biceps, the hem skimming the waistband of his dark jeans. A tattoo sleeve covered his left arm. Dark, unruly hair cut in long layers reached the nape of his neck. His profile was strong. Chiseled jaw. Straight nose. Prominent cheekbones. Even without seeing his face clearly, I knew it was beautiful. I couldn’t seem to take my eyes off him.
This was Killian Vincent. I was sure of it.
When he cut the call, he pocketed his phone and raked both hands through his hair, holding the back of his head like his frustration was too great to contain. It wasn’t the ideal time to approach him for a job, but I was going for it anyway. No guts, no glory. The worst he could do was say no. I squared my shoulders, held my head high, and strode across the street. My number one mission was to get a job.
One minute, my body was moving. The next, I was sprawled across the road, all the air knocked out of my lungs.
“Are you okay?”
I lifted my head, dazed. Stars floated in front of my eyes. When my head cleared, I was met with eyes so blue, they didn’t look real. Like tropical water in exotic places I’d only seen in photos. Fringed by long, thick lashes almost too pretty for his ruggedly handsome face. His eyes locked on mine, and for a few seconds, everything went completely still.
“Are you okay?” he asked again. His gaze swept over my face, dark brows furrowed, and the world came rushing back. Ten feet away, a car was idling, waiting for me to get out of the way.
“I’m fine,” I said, brushing gravel off my palms. Stupid pothole. How had I missed that? I scrambled to my feet. A searing pain shot up from my left ankle, and my leg buckled out from under me—the same ankle I sprained in a dirt bike accident when I was thirteen. The guy’s arms wrapped around me, and I was pressed against his hard chest. He smelled good. Something warm and faintly spicy. Masculine. Intoxicating.
He moved to my side and slid an arm around my waist. “Lean on me.”
I gritted my teeth and limped along next to him. I set down my left foot, and my leg wobbled. His arm around me tightened, and he muttered something under his breath. Before I could stop him, he slid an arm under my knees and lifted me off the ground, carrying me in his arms, his stride long and sure.
“What are you doing?” I asked, finally coming to my senses. I struggled to break free of his hold, but he didn’t let go.
“Stop fighting me. You’ll hurt yourself.” His voice was deep and kind of gravelly. Sexy.
“You’ll hurt yourself carrying me,” I said lamely.
“You weigh nothing,” he scoffed.
I didn’t weigh nothing, but in his arms, I felt featherlight. I could feel the muscles in his arms flexing and the warmth of his skin through the thin fabric of my dress. His nearness made my head swim, but at the same time, he made me feel safe, like nothing bad could happen to me while I was with him. Which was weird. He was a total stranger.
He carried me into the bar, and in a few long strides, we reached a leather sofa. He lowered me onto it, his face hovering inches above mine. My breath hitched as I stared at his full, sensuous lips and the dark stubble on his chiseled jaw that gave the impression a clean shave didn’t last more than a few hours. A kaleidoscope of butterflies had invaded my stomach, and feelings that lay dormant swirled inside me. He held onto me a few seconds too long before he released me and stepped away, running his hand through the messy waves of his hair.
“I need to take off your boot.” Without waiting for my permission, he carefully removed my shoe and sock. I bit down hard on my lip to keep from whimpering. He was holding my bare foot in both his warm, calloused hands—strong, capable hands, with thick veins, and white scars on the knuckles. How did he get the scars? Maybe he had a bad temper and flew into rages. That should have scared me, but it didn’t.
His touch was firm, but surprisingly gentle. He slowly rotated my foot, his dark brows knitted as he assessed the damage. Good thing I’d painted my toenails glossy coral yesterday. Which was a stupid thing to be thinking about. His fingers brushed over the tender spot just below my ankle, and I sucked in my breath, my hands curling into fists.
“You okay?” He lifted his eyes to mine, and my heart stuttered. A person could drown in those eyes. It was like being underwater and looking up at the sunlight.
“I’m fine.”
He set my foot down carefully, like it was made of glass. “Just twisted. Not broken,” he said, like he was an expert on the subject. “I’ll get you some ice and clean up your knee.”
I looked down at my knee. Blood oozed from it. Ugh. This was not going according to plan. I came for a job. Instead, I was playing the role of pathetic invalid.
“I’m fine. Really,” I said quickly, swinging my legs over the side of the sofa.
He scowled at me. “Stay where you are.”
“Don’t go to any more trouble. I’m sure you have a million things to do, so don’t worry about it.”
He crossed his arms over his wide chest and glowered. Impressive. This guy took scowling and glowering to a new level of badass. “I have a shitload of things to do. But you fell right in front of me. You expect me to send you on your way and not help you?”
“A lot of people would have looked the other way.”
“Yeah…well, not me.” He averted his head and exhaled sharply. “I’ll be right back. Don’t move,” he commanded. I watched him stride to the back of the bar, noting his perfect V-shaped torso that tapered down to slim hips and a narrow waist. Greek gods had nothing on this man.
What is going on with me? Had I hit my head when I fell? I came to Brooklyn to find myself and make my own dreams come true. Lusting after this guy wouldn’t help me do that. My heart was closed for business, and if my body betrayed me…well, that was too bad.
Job, job, job. Stay focused.