Rogue Cowboy (5 page)

My hand absently runs across my lips.  Lips that are still tingling with awareness from the kiss Zeke sprung on me.

And, god, it was a good kiss.  No, it wasn’t.  It was a fucking
great
kiss.  The best kiss in the history of kisses.  A kiss that every single woman should get to experience in her lifetime, because then she’ll know exactly what a fucking great kiss feels like.

If he’s that good a kisser, I bet he’s super duper fucking fantabulous in the sack, too.  And that sucks giant donkey balls, because I know I’ll never get to experience it.

Sometimes it sucks to be me.

He didn’t mention our date tonight in amongst the few words he spoke, so I’m pretty certain he’s forgotten.  Since it’s Tuesday, and Tuesday’s are usually slow going anyways, I’m shutting the pub early and I plan on disappearing into the office and getting some much needed work done.

Even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t have time to go on a date with Zeke.

And I don’t want to.

I don’t!

***

After I’ve set up the outside tables and chairs, placed all the bar stools down and put some pies in the warmer, I turn the jukebox on and then I open the pub doors.

While it’s quiet and there are no customers about, I decide to grab the mail off the office desk and go through it at the bar.

Before I can open the first letter, Skip comes strolling through the doors wearing his usual friendly smile.  The twinkle that’s always in his eye is endearing and cheeky at the same time.  No matter how bad your day is going, just seeing Skip will make you feel ten times better.

“Hey, Skip.”

“Mornin’, love.”

I grab him his usual and slide it across the bar to him just as he takes a seat.

“You look busy,” he observes.

I nod.  “Thought I’d go through some mail while I’m sitting here doing nothing.  Two birds, one stone, you know.” I shrug.

He nods thoughtfully.  “Well, don’t let me stop you.”

“Thanks, Skip.”

I tear open the first envelope and scroll through the application.

Sadee Beck, age 32, available to work any hours, honest, experienced in bar work and reliable.  References attached.

I nod, suitably impressed.  I set Sadee’s application to the side and open the remaining envelopes.

Mitchell Smith, 18, willing to be paid in alcohol.

Hmm, don’t think so, Mitchell.

Delila Sweet, 19, I’m a really awesome worker, and I would be really cool with the customers. I have a rocking body that men seem to love, so I think I’d be great at bringing customers in and stuff.
 

Like, how about no, Delila…

Joanna Marks, aged 22, single mother, reliable, trustworthy and honest. References attached.

Joanna sounds like a winner.  I place her in the pile with Sadee.

Genevieve Burrows, 51, hardworking, professional and reliable.

Genevieve goes in the pile with Joanna and Sadee and I stand to give Skip another beer.

“Skip, would you mind just watching out for me.  I’ve just got to make a call in the office.

“Of course, love.” He takes another swig of his beer and goes back to reading his paper.

Closing the office door, I pick up the phone and bring up Lucy’s number.  Pressing send, I listen as it rings,  and just as I’m about to hang up, she finally answers.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Lucy, it’s Sienna calling from The Cow and Calf.”

“Oh, hey, Sienna.  What can I do for you?”

“Actually, I was just calling to see if you’re available to come in for a quick chat anytime soon?”  I could fire her over the phone, but I think this is something that needs to be done face to face.

“Why do I feel like I’m being called into the Principal’s office?” she asks with a nervous chuckle.

“I’d rather have this conversation in person, so are you available today sometime?”

“You know what, Sienna, I already know you’re going to fire me, so I’ll save you the effort.  I quit, okay.  I fucking hate working there anyways.”

I gasp and before I can reply, she hangs up on me.

Bitch.

I can’t believe how bloody childish and rude some people are! 

“Everything alright?” Skip asks as I come back into the bar.  Grabbing a bottled water, I have a mouthful before answering.

“Yes and no.  Lucy just quit before I could fire her, so I guess she did me a favour.  Now, I just have to find a cleaner, pronto.”

“Any prospects in the applications?” he asks, nodding his head toward the pile of papers on the bar.

“A few.”

“Well, what you waiting for?  Get the phone and call them up now while it’s quiet in here,” he encourages.

I don’t waste any time, grabbing the phone and dialing Genevieve, Sadee and Joanna, and asking them to come in for a face-to-face interview in the morning before the pub opens.  Thankfully, all three are available.  

Come mid-afternoon, I’m starving, but feeling accomplished and a little less stressed.  Skip went home hours ago, and since then I’ve had the lunch crowd come and go and now it’s pretty quiet again. 

“Hey, June.” I smile warmly at the cook who’s been working the pub kitchen for years.

“G’day, Sienna.  Hungry?”

“Starving,” I reply.

“Let me fix you something.  I’ll bring it out when it’s ready.”

“Thank you.”

Fifteen minutes later, June sits a plate down on the bar and my mouth waters.

“This smells delicious,” I say, leaning in to breathe in the aroma of the battered Barramundi fillet and fresh green salad she’s prepared.

“Dig in, love.  Let me know what you think of the new poppy seed dressing on the salad.” She throws me a wink and then leaves me to eat.

“Sooo good,” I groan, chewing my first bite.

By the time five thirty rolls around, the pub is empty, so I close the doors and let June know she can head home early.

“The poppy seed dressing was delicious,” I tell her honestly.

“Glad you enjoyed it,” she says kindly.  “I’ll just finish tidying up and then I’ll head out.”

“Okay. See you tomorrow.”

Stifling a yawn, I walk into my small, yet functional office and park my arse at my desk, intent on paying the wages and putting together some questions for tomorrow’s interviews.  Then, if I’m not too tired, I’ll do the cleaning tonight, rather than in the morning.

I press the transfer button and wait to confirm the wages have been paid, just as I hear the side door close as June leaves.

“Hope you’re not hiding out in here from me.”  At the sound of Zeke’s voice, I scream and whirl around in my chair, clutching my chest.

“Jesus Christ, Zeke, you scared the shit out of me!”

He doesn’t reply.  Instead, he stalks into the room, stopping beside my desk to place a bag on the floor.  Then he rounds the desk and comes up behind me.

His strong, meaty hands grasp my shoulders and his fingers apply pressure, massaging me.

“Ohhhh,” I groan.  My head falls forward as my muscles relax in ecstasy.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he comments.

“I didn’t hear you ask one.”

“Are you hiding out in here from me?”

“If I was, then it didn’t work very well, did it?” I sigh as he expertly kneads my back.

“You shouldn’t answer a question with a question, should you?”

“I don’t know, why don’t you tell me?” I fire back.

Why am I flirting?

Why am I enjoying it?

I’m so freaking ridiculous.

“Keep throwing that sass out, baby, cause I’m loving keeping count.”

The smart arse rebuff I was working on fades into oblivion as he works his thumbs into my neck, releasing the knots there.

“You’re so good with your hands,” I moan.

He leans down and whispers into my ear, “You have no idea.”

Like a randy schoolgirl who just saw her first hot guy, my hormones go into overdrive.

Down girl
, I internally whisper to my lady parts.

“Are you hungry?” he asks, when I’ve nearly fallen asleep from his massage.

“A little.”  I feel completely relaxed and loose.  I didn’t realise how tense I actually was until he worked my muscles.

“Good.” He kisses the top of my head and walks around to grab the bag he placed on the floor earlier.  He opens it up to reveal it’s actually one of those cooler bag things.  He takes out a salad roll and hands it to me before setting his own down on my desk.

“Be right back.”  He ducks out of the room only to return minutes later with a bottle of beer for him and a glass of white wine for me.

“Stealing from my bar now, Zeke?” I tease, cocking a questioning eyebrow.

“Don’t worry, I’ll pay you back later,” he returns with a suggestive lilt to his voice, and then he adds a goddamn sexy as fuck wink – sexy as fuck because he combines it with a steamy smirk.

I grind my teeth in frustration when my stomach clenches and butterflies begin to swarm.  The sexual tension in the air is thick and it makes it hard to breath…or maybe that’s just me, turned on as Hell and finding it hard to get enough oxygen into my lungs to calm the heck down.

I unwrap my roll and take a bite before looking over at Zeke, who’s taking a swig of his beer.

“So, how was your day?” I ask, attempting a normal conversation with him.

“Why, it was pleasant, dear.  How was yours?” A small smile plays on his lips as he speaks with a shameful English accent.

I burst out laughing and almost choke on my food.  “You’re such a tool,” I say through my laughter.

“Yeah, but I’m a tool who can make you laugh.”

I nod in agreement.  “True.  But am I laughing
at
you or
with
you?”

He reaches across the desk and uses his thumb to wipe a spot of mayonnaise off the edge of my lip.  My mouth waters when, while keeping total eye contact, he brings his thumb to his mouth and sucks it.

Holy shit!

“Finish your sandwich,” he murmurs, before taking a bite of his own.

Without a smart remark in sight, I do as I’m told and finish my sandwich.

“Are you done for tonight?” Zeke asks, nodding toward the paperwork littering my desk.  We’re both standing, ready to head out after finishing our impromptu, indoor picnic.  My head feels a little light thanks to the three and- a half glasses of wine I consumed, but at least the constant headache I’ve sported over the last few weeks has dissipated.

“Yeah, pretty much.” I shrug.

“What were you working on earlier?”

“Just questions for the interviews I have tomorrow.”  I stifle a yawn.

“Do you mind?” he asks, motioning to the papers with my scratchy handwriting scrawled over them.

“Not at all.”

He picks them up and quickly scans through them, nodding as he reads.

“These are good.  How many candidates do you have?”

“Three.  Hopefully they all work out because I have three positions available and I need to fill them yesterday.”

“You will,” he says firmly.

“Hope you’re right.”

“I am.”  He walks over to me, bringing his body as close to mine as he can without touching.  My breath catches in my throat and I slowly bring my eyes up to meet his.  “Say you’ll go on a date with me, Sienna.”

“Didn’t we just have a date?” I ask weakly.

“No, baby.  A date with me involves me picking you up, taking you somewhere nice to eat and then bringing you back home and pressing you deep into a wall while my tongue makes friends with yours.”  His voice is rough and deep and my entire body quivers.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Sienna, it’s a
great
idea.”

“You don’t understand, Zeke.  I just…it’s not that I don’t want to.  It’s that I
can’t
.”  I try to explain without giving too much away.

“Just give me one chance.  One date.”

“I can’t,” I say softly, swallowing the lump in my throat.

He takes another step and he body melds with mine.  The firmness of his, the perfect accompaniment to the softness of mine.

Oh, crap, I’m in so much trouble.

He leans down and kisses the side of my mouth softly.

“Say yes?” he cajoles.

“No,” I whisper after what feels like an eternity.

He moves to kiss the other side of my mouth and my fingers itch to reach up and grip his shoulders as my knees threaten to go weak.

“One date, that’s all.  One date, baby.”  His lips touch mine; first the top of my top lip, and then the bottom of my bottom lip.  “Let me show you how good it can be.”  He runs his tongue across my lips in a slow, deliberate stroke, and in a hazy, lust-filled moment, the word, “Yes,” escapes my mouth.