Just One Night (Black Alcove #2) (6 page)

“Babe, why aren’t
you sleeping?”

He reaches an arm over
and pulls me toward him. When I’m close enough that I could just
pucker my lips and kiss him, he opens his eyes. A spark comes from
them and I try not to blink as I look back. I’m going to miss him
more than I even knew possible. My heart feels like it’s being
squeezed dry just thinking about it.

“You’re beautiful,
and I’m crazy lucky to be here with you.”

“Hey”—he kisses
my forehead—“that’s my line.”

The smile that tugs at
his lips matches exactly how I feel.

God,
could he be any cuter?

“You know,” I
tease, “those are some sexy words, Mr. Parker.”

“Indeed they are, Ms.
Connelly.”

“Well, what—”

“That’s enough
talking,” he says, grabbing my hips and pulling me until I’m
sitting on top of him. Not putting our clothes back on is really
paying off right now. With a hand on each side of my face, he sits up
to kiss me. As he leans back, I go with him, never letting my lips
part from his.

* * *

“I should probably
get going. It’s already five, and your dad would be disappointed if
he knew I kept you up all night before you left.” Logan reluctantly
moves out of bed and starts to pull on his boxers.

I watch but don’t say
anything.

“Sara, if you keep
looking at me like that, I won’t be gone anytime time soon.”

I
love the way he says my name.

“Well … that’s
okay with me. Maybe I don’t want you to go just yet.”

Logan tosses his shirt
onto the floor and his muscles flex when he leans onto the bed and
crawls over me. I start to push the sheets away, letting him know
what I want, but he quickly presses his hands down around me, tucking
me into the sheet. Once he has me tight enough, he starts to tickle
me. I can’t move because my arms are pinned under the sheets and
he’s now sitting on my legs.

“Stop it,” I shout
between laughs. I try to sit up and twist or turn out of his hands,
but he is too strong for me. “Please, please, I’ll do anything
just stop, stop it, please.”

“Anything, huh? I may
have to take you up on that offer. But right now, I really should be
going.” Logan moves off the bed. He’s dressed and pulling on his
shirt the second I get out bed. I walk straight past him to the
bathroom. I’m fully aware I have no clothes on and so is he.

“Sara, I’m warning
you. Keep taunting me, and I won’t be able to resist you.”

“I’m not exactly
sure I want you to,” I tell him and close the door right before he
reaches me. Taking a deep breath, I lean against it. Goodbyes have
never been a strong area for me and doing them in a new relationship
is definitely out of my comfort zone. I grab my robe and swing the
door open. Logan’s still standing there.

“I really do need to
go.” He kisses me long and hard. “Call me when you get there.”

I nod, watching him
leave.

I’m pretty sure
calling him definitely should come before finishing that damn list.

Sara

It’s been two weeks
and I’m going insane. Logan hasn’t had a chance to make good on
that plan to take a weekend off. Fortunately, the bands are bringing
in more than the usual BA crowd, so Logan has been spending a lot of
time hiring more help. I love that Logan is making sure the BA isn’t
short-handed, but I hate how much of his time it takes up. Phone
calls can only go so far. And I especially hate how much the thought
of not seeing him is taking up more room in my brain than this bar.

My father is keeping
busy, too. His role in this new bar is nice; I haven’t seen him
lend a hand in years. The new task for me is hiring an assistant
manager. He was against it at first, but when he noticed how busy
I’ve been, he came around.

For a while I thought
he was seriously losing his mind, expecting me to open this place all
on my own. He called me an hour ago and told me I had better get to
work
now
because I
have three interviews this morning.
Three.
There aren’t even any tables or chairs, except a few barstools, for
me to sit at while I conduct these interviews. No artwork or anything
on the walls. The paint is still trying to dry. I thought I’d at
least have another week or more to get that stuff in here before I
started interviewing.

On the plus side, the
sooner I hire someone, the easier it is for me to go home this
weekend for Kelsey’s birthday, and the sooner I go home, for good,
the sooner Logan and I can be together.

I pass a coffee shop,
an accessory store, and a vintage dress shop on my way to work. All
places where I’ve become a regular customer. I have to hand it to
my father, at least he picked a part of town I would enjoy. Having
everything I love in a one-block radius is amazing. Only one thing
would make this better: Logan.

We talk almost every
day and it’s great, but seeing each other would be better. I
promised him I would be there for Kelsey’s party. I feel a bit
guilty for already planning to spend most of my weekend with Logan
and less time with my father. He has to expect this though, right? I
mean, I am growing up and this is what grown women do—we branch off
and become our own person.

I pull my phone from my
purse to send Logan a quick text. If everything goes as planned, I
can leave this Friday by noon. I let out a little giggle, and there’s
definitely some pep to my step as I type what I think is a flirty
message, but before I can hit send, I run into a brick wall. Or at
least what I thought was a brick wall. I panic and hit the ground
hard with my knees in an attempt to save my phone. I’m too late. My
cell hits the cement and the cover breaks away from the phone. The
screen is shattered, and no matter how many times I press the power
button, it won’t turn on.

“Aren’t those type
of cases supposed to be life-proof or something?” A deep voice says
from above me. I don’t look up. My main form of contact with anyone
is gone. How am I going to talk to Logan now? How am I going to
contact my dad, or what number will I give the interviewees? Unless
this guy giving me some speech on life-proof cases works for a cell
phone company and has a new phone for me, his opinion is the last
thing I need.

A hand comes into my
view and catches my attention. My eyes travel the length of the toned
arm to a huge bicep, and my eyes go wide when I see what’s standing
in front of me. A black t-shirt hugs a large, solid chest, and dark
blue jeans hang just right around a set of hips with a brown belt. A
man, who looks to be around my age, with short, black hair and light
green eyes studies me. His lips form into a half smile.

“You aren’t even
going to try to act like you weren’t checking me out just now?”
he asks as he glances over me. His smile grows wider. “Interesting.”

“I—”

Crap.
How am I going to explain that one?

“I’m sorry,” I
finally say once I’ve stood and brushed myself off. I’m wearing a
red dress that flows just above my knees, and now you can see small
divots in my knees where tiny bits of gravel have been.

He laughs and then
slings a black backpack over his shoulder.

“Actually, I’m glad
you were checking me out. I have an interview today, and I think you
just gave me all the confidence I need to go in there with my head
held high.”

“Oh—”

“Sorry about your
phone. I was looking for this new bar, but I can’t seem to find it.
The Silver Tap, have you heard of it?”

I swallow the
embarrassing amount of spit that formed in my mouth from watching
him. That’s my bar; he’s interviewing with me.
Crap
again.

“Ummm, yeah—there
isn’t a sign yet, but it should be up in the next few weeks,” I
tell him.

“No way, are you
Sara? I’m Liam,” he says, extending his hand. I give it a firm
shake before I respond.

“That’s me.”

“But, you look so
young.”

“I am, but not too
young that I don’t know how to run my own business,” I respond
with more of an authoritative tone. “Let’s move inside. I need to
make a phone call before we get started.” And sadly, the phone in
the office is the only one I have now.

“Yeah, okay. Cool.”

Liam follows behind me
as we make our way to the bar, and I can feel his eyes on me the
entire way. It’s … different. Someone once told me that you
become more desirable the moment you’re off limits. Maybe that
person was right after all.
I am
pretty damn desirable.
I laugh inwardly at my own joke.
Sneaking a peek over my shoulder, I grin when I notice Liam isn’t
paying any attention to me. Good, can’t have him thinking he is
about to be working for a crazy lady who laughs at her own mental
jokes.

I unlock the door and
flip the switch to turn on the lights. This place looks like a
spitting image of the BA. The only difference is the platform the
entrance is on. In Wind Valley, you step down when you walk in—here,
you step up. Everything else, down to the colors inside, are the
same. It’s been working for the BA, so what’s not to say it won’t
work well here, too?

“Why don’t you just
pull up a seat at the bar and I’ll be out in a minute,” I tell
him as I walk toward my office. He nods and heads for the bar. I hear
his backpack hit the floor and I jump a little. The noise reminding
me that I’m in an empty, unopened bar with a total stranger and no
cell service.

I close the door behind
me as I step into the office and quickly lock it. It’s small. Much
smaller than the one in Wind Valley, and here the metal desk takes up
half the room. Stacks of papers and rolled up posters fill the
corners. A few have fallen over. I lean them upright and then let my
body fall into the squeaky leather chair behind the desk.

I had argued with my
father about having a landline in here. I knew eventually we would
need one, but I thought it was silly to want one when the place isn’t
even open. But now that my cell is shattered, I’m thinking my dad
can be pretty smart.

I should call him
first, but I dial Logan’s number quickly instead and wait as it
rings.

A flashback to the
first time I ever called Logan makes me smile. I swear he didn’t
answer that day on purpose just so I’d have to call back. The more
I dialed, the more committed I became to winning his attention.

When I get his
voicemail my smile fades and I glance at the clock. It’s not early.
He should be up by now. Did something happen to him? What if he’s
hurt and no one thought to contact me?

The knocking at the
door pulls me from my trance.

“One minute,” I
call out. I need to pull myself together before this guy runs because
his potential new boss is a hot mess. I take a deep breath and unlock
the door.

Liam is back sitting at
the bar when I come out. His backpack is lying on the seat next to
him and he has a mini bar set up in front of him. I clear my throat
and he turns around quickly.

“Hey, so, your father
mentioned the place isn’t stocked yet and told me if I really want
to impress you, I would find a way. So, here it is.” He pulls a
Vanna White to display everything on the bar top. “As you see here,
I have all the ingredients to make you the best Bloody Mary you will
ever taste. Vodka, spicy tomato juice, pickles, olives, salt and
pepper, a celery stick, and even one of these fun, little, plastic
knives to hold it all together.”

I press my lips
together to hide my smile. This guy has creativity and definitely
came prepared. A mind like that could be useful around here.

“I hate to break it
to you,” I say, pointing to his set up and then to the empty
shelves behind him. “But we don’t have any glasses for me to try
this best Bloody Mary ever.”

He smirks and holds up
a finger while he reaches for his bag. He then pulls out a single
glass and a few other supplies to make the drink.

“Huh.” I take a
seat at the bar and swing my legs around to face the back wall. I sit
up tall and lace my hands together. This should be good. “Okay, go
around and pretend I’m a customer. Let’s see how your social
skills are. I need someone who is a good people person. All employees
will need to be capable of working every area in the bar.”

“Easy,” he says
with a cocky grin and moves to the other side of the bar. “If we’re
going to make this real, at least pretend you just walked up to the
bar. I would never make a customer wait as patiently as you have
been,” he says with a wink. Hopefully, I get up fast enough before
he can see me blush. Between his smile and his smooth winking skills,
he will definitely make good tips from the ladies. I take two steps
away from my seat, then turn around and walk back to it.

“Hey there, welcome
to The Silver Tap. What can I get you to drink this fine afternoon?”
He gives me another wink as he uses the flirtiest tone I’ve ever
heard. His smile grows bigger, and I know this time he didn’t miss
the rosy color in my checks.

“A beer is fine.
Thanks,” I say calmly.
Ha!
Now who’s uncomfortable?

“I hate to break it
to you, pretty lady, but I’m fresh out of beer. However, as luck
would have it, I have everything needed to make you the best Bloody
Mary you’ve ever tasted.”

I don’t even get a
chance to let him know I don’t like vodka before he continues.

“And if you don’t
like it, it’s on me.”

His confidence is good
but almost comes off as cocky. Men will definitely hate it, and
women—well, on second thought, it’s going to be hit or miss until
they are drunk enough to think he’s flirting with only them. And
I’ll definitely tell him that if he ever buys a drink, it better
come from his pocket and not the bar’s because that will not work
for me. But I’ll take the bait.