I shrug and slice another lemon wedge. "No clue," I grit through clenched teeth. "I'm sure Joyce will have all the details for you by the end of the night though."
He looks down at me with a raised brow then turns his attention back to the crowd. "I wouldn't say that just yet."
I ignore Travis and continue attempting to deal with my insanity by taking it out on the garnish, but just as I lift my knife goosebumps ripple across my skin and hellfire rolls down my spine.
Taking a glance toward the end of the bar I see that all four men are now seated in the area that normally sits six to eight, elbows on the counter, posture incredibly straight.
To say I'm relieved that they refused to sit in Joyce's section would be an understatement, but I try to hide it because that man is staring at me again. He gives me the faintest hint of a knowing smile and the heat in my body amplifies to scorching then stains my neck and cheeks to match.
Travis goes to take their drink order while I try to stop murdering fruit, but a few minutes later he comes back over with a smirk.
"They're asking for you."
I miss the lemon completely and hack into the meaty part of my thumb. "Shit!"
Blood rushes from the deep cut and Travis immediately grabs my hand, holds it up and covers it with a clean rag.
"Jesus, Posey, are you ok?"
I scowl. "Peachy."
"You're probably gonna need stitches. Let me look."
As Travis takes my hand in both of his I hear a scuffle at the end of the bar and glance up to see two of the men holding back the one from the coffee shop. His fists are clenched and he's breathing hard, eyes narrowed like lasers on Travis while the fourth man speaks quietly in his ear.
I watch for a beat then look down at my hand to see that I will in fact need stitches and grumble, "I'll be fine. Let me just get this patched up and I'll put on a pair of gloves then come back to help."
"You really should just go get this looked at by a professional, Posey. It's pretty bad."
I shake my head and pull my hand back then start toward the office. "I'm fine. I'll be back in a sec."
A ten minute search finally produces the first aid kit Bill has probably had since this place opened back in the seventies. I start digging around but I jump when the office door opens behind me and all the air whooshes from my lungs when I spin to find the man from the coffee shop standing there glowering at me.
"You… you aren't supposed to be back here."
In three long strides he's inches away from me, his incredible cologne all up in my face, my face that barely lines up with his sexier-than-it-should-be pec line. The heat from his body is so intense, so hot that I can feel it as if I were standing on the surface of the sun.
I like it way more than I should.
"You're hurt," he says in that deep baritone and sinful accent.
I just nod as he reaches for my hand and slowly removes the rag. Blood begins streaming down into my palm as he looks over the wound then his eyes flick to mine.
God, his eyes are so beautiful, so unique. And this close I can see his eyes aren't really brandy colored at all. They're actually black and red, just like his hair with tiny flecks of gold scattered about. But now I can also see that they're… different. His pupils are slightly diamond-shaped, almost like a snake but not quite and I have to wonder if he's wearing contacts. With the way they swirl and contract though, I can tell he is not.
Gaze still locked on mine, he slowly lifts my palm to his lips and then he does the strangest thing. He licks—fucking licks—the cut on my hand. My whole arm tingles, his tongue instantly eliciting a chill of pleasure to roll through my whole body. He grins just a tiny bit then presses a kiss over the cut that seems to have stopped bleeding before reaching into the kit and removing a few alcohol pads.
I watch in silent wonder as he doctors my hand, cleans it, and wraps it in gauze. When he's finished he kisses my palm again and I can't help but touch his cheek with my fingertips.
He leans into my touch, a rumble of satisfaction coming from somewhere deep in his chest before he releases my hand reluctantly.
"I should… I should probably get back to work."
He nods and steps aside to allow me to pass but I just stare at him.
A dark black brow lifts and I swear I hear him say. "Is there a problem, Posey?" But his incredibly kissable lips don't move so I clear my throat.
"I don't know your name."
