Ahead of the Darkness Page 4

  “Aye? Ye know how to work a bar, then?”

  “I’ve worked in half a dozen since I was... ah, for a few years, Yes, I can work a bar.” I needed to leave before he pushed anymore and I slipped too much out of Mia, and fell more into Amelia. I needed my clothes first. Maybe it was the lack of making me more vulnerable. It had nothing to do with a half-naked, physically overpowering man standing in front of me. No, not at all.

  “Alright then, let’s see. Make me something, something stiff.” I tried my hardest not to look down at his still slightly fuller-looking sweats, and raised an eyebrow at a smirking Drew. I shook my head at the irony of his statement.

  “It’s a little early for a stiff ... drink, don’t you think? But I guess I can rise to the challenge. What do you have?” I sounded bored even to my own ears, but I was getting more and more frustrated.

  He laughed under his breath, and pointed to the little trolley under the window. An array of liquors decorated the under compartment, with an assortment of glasses and tumblers on the top. It was an impressive selection and quite the makeshift bar. I guessed owning one had advantages.

  I walked off to the kitchen, grabbed a can of cola I found in the fridge, a tray of ice and a lime, cut in half. I could feel Drew's curiosity as I walked back to the trolley, his eyes watching every detail the whole time. It made my heart race and my skin prickle being so closely observed. I tried to ignore him, but Drew's sharp intake of breath when I bent over to select the liquors I needed made it impossible. I realised my mistake too late and quickly stood up, placing the four bottles down to straighten the T-shirt, which I swore kept shrinking. My face must have been a violent shade of crimson as I tentatively reached for the last bottle, careful to hold the hem with my free hand.

  The urge to show off, just a little, was too great, and I angled my body just slightly so Drew could see exactly what I was doing. I dropped the ice cubes in a tall tumbler, squeezed half the lime over them then picked up the vodka, gin, white rum and tequila. Balanced in both hands, I preceded to pour exactly one shot of each. I knew this because I'd made the exact same drink a hundred times. In my peripheral vision I noticed one of Drew’s eyebrows rise at the trick. I internally smirked while my stomach did a little back flip and made quick work of the last steps. A generous splash of triple sec, the other half of the lime squeezed in, a quick mix with a cocktail stick, and finished it off by placing a sugar cube on top of the ice cubes and adding enough cola to dissolve it. In less than two minutes I had finished the Long Island iced tea and handed it to him.

  The look on his face was priceless. It was a mix of impressed, confusion and ... something else I couldn’t pinpoint.

  “Perfect.”

  “Pardon? You haven't tasted it. I don't know what you drink so I went for a favourite of mine, except, I normally have sugar syrup but, umm, you don't look like the sweet kind. I mean, you wanted stiff, so...” I didn’t know what else to say. He still hadn’t tasted the drink, but just stare through me. I was a little disappointed and thought about downing it myself.

  “The job’s yours. If you want it, that is.” What?

  His tone was off. He sounded too straightforward and I was slightly confused, and wondered what had happened to the brogue, I had noticed he’d lost it on the phone too. So why was he offering me a job?

  “The job? You want me to fill in for you tonight, or...?”

  “Aye. Do ye need a job? Ye did say ye just moved here, right?” And it was back.

  “I did. But ...”

  “Right, well ye found yerself a job.”

  I was flabbergasted.

  He walked off without waiting for a proper response, continued on past the kitchen and turned left. A few minutes later he brought out my freshly-cleaned clothes. He smirked as he passed them to me, my bra conveniently on the top of the pile. I couldn't help but blush at Drew handling my underwear.

  “Fresh as a daisy.”

  “Thanks.” I quickly clutched them to my chest and Drew chuckled at me yet again.

  “Ye’re welcome to shower. Fresh towels in there and all.”

  “That would be great. Thank you.”

  He stood there looking at me a minute longer before he snapped to. “Oh, aye, door on the left is the bathroom. Help yerself to whatever ye need.”

  I nodded and ducked my head as I passed Drew. As soon as the door was closed I slumped against it. I struggled to process the last twenty-four hours. Waking up naked in some bed and dancing with, when I really think about it, a complete stranger, in his living room was not my normal. We almost ... he almost ... and then he offered me a job. At some point, I’m likely to wake up back on the train to Seaford and this, this would all be some bizarre dream I concocted. I sighed, giving up that hope, my dreams were always the same. I opted to drown it all under the steaming shower instead.

  By the time I stepped out of the shower, I felt a little more human. At the very least, I hoped I was closer to being back to my usual mental state. I dressed slowly to prolong opening the bathroom door. I think I secretly hoped Drew was nowhere to be found and I could just sneak out the front door. Instead, I found him in the kitchen fully clothed. Shame. But maybe I’d think clearer. His shoulders tightened at what I presumed was my presence.

  “I made breakfast. Ye hungry?” Drew responded, his voice a little cold with his back to me.

  I looked further past Drew to the little table and found an unprecedented amount of food awaited. Plates full of bacon and scrambled eggs, hash browns, mushrooms, tomato and ...

  “Is that ... Is that black pudding?” Ewwww.

  “Aye.” He turned to face me, with a small grin. “I cannae have breakfast without it. Have ye tried it?”

  “That would be a no, and I don't plan on it, either. It looks revolting, not to mention what it’s in it.”

  He laughed while placing the fresh batch of toast he’d just buttered onto the table, and sat down. He piled his plate with an obscene amount of food and began to shovel scrambled eggs into his mouth. I stood in the kitchen, watching mildly impressed at how he could eat so much. Men.

  “Ye do eat, don't ye?” he grumbled around a piece of toast.

  “Yes.”

  “Then sit, eat. I cannae eat all this ...” He looked too longingly at the food for me to believe a word of it.

  “I wouldn't dream of depriving you of one crumb.” I mocked as I approached the table. He scowled at me and I smirked at him.

  “Aye, ye real cute like. Now shut up and eat.”

  The previous awkwardness diminished a little and his playful tone was back. It did smell wonderful, and I was hungry. I spooned a little scrambled eggs on to a piece of toast and paused. I got up and went in search of Tabasco sauce. Voila, it was in the first cupboard I opened. I sat back down at the table, splashed a healthy amount on top of my eggs and covered them with two strips of bacon. I opted for hands instead of silverware, seeing as Drew didn’t seem to be too fussed on table manners at the moment. I lifted my delicious concoction to my lips but paused at the sight of Drew’s perplexed expression.

  “What?” I took a huge bite and moaned in delight.

  “Ye’re a strange wee thing, aren't ye? That looks delicious, mind. Pass me the sauce.”

  “Coming from you, that means little. Do you make a habit of dancing with random women in your living room?” And offering them jobs ...

  “Aye, ye have a point there. Nae, it’s not habitual. Ye were in need and a state of distress. Ye were completely blootered. I cannae help that ye passed out on me, or that ye looked mighty fine in my T-shirt.” His eyes widened for a nanosecond and he shrugged his shoulders seeming to dismissing the compliment.

  “Hmmm ...” He had a point, somewhat. “Yes well, you scared the bejesus out of me, so it was your fault you had to carry me anywhere in the first place. But I appreciate you not dropping me, or leaving me to be eaten by rats in an alleyway.” He nodded, continuing to eat at a less caveman speed, but I couldn't finish mine.
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  “Drew? Why ... about the job.”

  “Aye?”

  “Do you really own the club, Cascade’s? I mean, it makes sense—the club, this apartment. Who has an apartment that looks like this? It looks like it could be from a page out of a magazine.” He paused, looking slightly wounded.

  “You, don't like it?”

  “I didn't say that.”

  “Aye, then what’s the problem?”

  “There isn't one.” He waited. “It’s just... It’s just so clean. If I hadn’t ...” Felt it. I bit my lip at the thought of Drew hard against me and felt my cheeks warmed. “Well, you’re a guy, a very manly guy. They don’t have clean kitchens, and tidy bedrooms, and immaculate bathrooms, and amazing clubs, and...You’re not gay, right?” I continued to chew on my lip and flushed a little but I couldn’t help but ask. The nervous action caught Drew’s attention. His eyes flicked, and lingered on my lips. He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat before he brought his gaze back to mine.

  “Not, gay. Very much.” His eyes flicked to my teeth still nibbling my lip. “—not gay.” He leaned forward, his hand coming up to my face and I froze, eyes wide. He gently gripped my chin and used his thumb to release my lower lip.

  “Ye cannae be doing that now ...” Now? He lifted his gaze from my lips to stare through me, and I saw it. The want. Then he laughed.

  “I thought ye made it bleed. It’s just hot sauce.” To prove his point he wiped at my lip, his thumb coming away dirty. I opened my mouth to comment but lost all train of thought as he lifted his thumb to his own mouth and sucked it. My insides quivered and I involuntarily sucked in air, clenching my thighs tight. Drew’s lip curled up at the side, pronouncing the dimple.

  “Delicious.”

  He knew exactly what he was doing to me, the arse. I closed my mouth, which had been slightly open, and raised an eyebrow at him.

  “I cannae resist Tabasco sauce.” He chuckled under his breath.

  “You missed a bit...” Before he could put his hand down. I reached for it. He froze as I closed my fingers around his thumb. I internally smiled with victory.

  “Just ...” I slowly lifted his thumb closer to my mouth, his gaze glued to my lips the whole time. He swallowed. Just before his thumb made contact with my mouth I squeezed tabasco sauce into his open palm and dropped his hand like it was on fire. “—here.” I laughed so hard tears came to my eyes. That will teach him to play with my libido.

  He looked at his hand in stunned silence, for all of three seconds. A playful fury lit his eyes as he looked back to me. Oh God ...

  “No, no.” I quickly stumbled out of my chair and went to duck for cover behind the bench. Drew was right on my tail as he picked up a handful of scrambled eggs with his covered Tabasco sauced hand.

  “Ye cannae hide, love.”

  “Drew! You can’t. It’s too clean. I’m too clean, and...and you went to all that trouble to wash my clothes. Which ... was a little weird, by the way.” I’d stupidly backed myself up against the fridge. Drew was three steps away from me when he stopped, and raised his hand at the ready.

  “Drew!”

  “Aye...I guess it was a wee bit strange. I dinnae sleep much, and I felt bad at ye having to put them on to go home.” He shrugged, seeming uncomfortable.

  “You are strange Drew...?”

  “McKinley. It’s Andrew McKinley but if ye call me Andrew, I’ll skin ye alive.”

  I smiled. “I think I can manage that.” He lowered his hand and I laughed. “Ah, Drew? You’re dripping on the floor.”

  “Ah, bollocks.” He rushed to dump it in the sink as I found some paper towels on the bench and begun cleaning the floor.

  “I am sorry about that. Actually, not really. That was a little funny.”

  “Aye, who would have thought ye had a sense of humour.” He smiled down at me on the floor and I stood up, dusting myself off.

  “Yes, who would have thought it, but let’s keep that to ourselves. I have a reputation to uphold. After all, the French aren’t known for their mirth.” I smiled a small, genuine smile.

  “Yer French?”

  “Oui, well, half French. My mother...”

  “Do ye speak it?”

  “Oui, je parle couramment le français, l'ont fait depuis que j'ai été un enfant.” I laughed at his blank stare.

  “Yeah, I dinnae know much French other than, bonjour, ça va, and ye know, the bad words. What did ye say?”

  “I’ve spoken French since I was a child, there abouts.”

  “Aye, my parents taught me Gaelic, but I nae spoken any since...I was a wee bairn. Well, I guess I speak Scottish too.”

  “Aye. Sometimes I cannae understand ye.” He laughed, my attempt at imitating him much better than last night. I cringed as that memory resurfaced.

  “Yes, well I do try to rein it in when at work, but it seems to slip when I’m around ye. It’s worse when I’m drunk, mind. Ye cannae understand a thing. Just ask Jules tonight.”

  “Tonight?”

  “Aye, at the club. Unless ye changed yer mind? Did ye change yer mind?”

  “Oh. Yes, right. No, I haven’t changed my mind. Well, you never gave me a chance to make one. What time do you want me? Oh, what do I wear? I didn’t notice if there was a uniform.”

  “I dinnae, did I? Sorry. It would be great if ye come in for six, and I can show ye around. Just wear something black and we can see how ye like it?”

  “Okay. Oh God, what time is it?” It felt like I’d been there all day.

  “Quarter to eleven.”

  “I should get going. Whatever happened to my phone?”

  “Oh.” He walked off into the living room and returned a moment later with my phone in hand. “I plugged her in for ye, and put the rest of ye things on the coffee table. She should be good to go.” He handed my phone back with a small smile.

  “Thank you. Now I can find out where I live.”

  “Aye, that will help. I can drop ye off home, if ye need.” I’d been too distracted in turning on my phone and bringing up the map that it took me a little longer to take in what Drew had offered.

  “Oh, I can walk. My ankle is fine, mostly, and according to the map on my phone it isn’t far. Maybe three or four blocks.”

  Awkward morning goodbyes were not my cup of tea, and I’d only encountered a few, on principle I avoided them, but it definitely felt like one with neither one of us knowing what to say. It was ridiculous, really. We didn’t even have sex, yet I wasn’t sure if I should ask for his number, or offer to give him mine. We would be working together after all.

  I did neither. “So, I’ll get going. Ah, thank you again for letting me stay and for breakfast. You can cook and dance, what other hidden talents do you have?” Shit, did I say that out loud?

  “That’s for me to know and ye to find out.” I reflexively bit my lip, and Drew laughed.

  “I’ll see you at Cascade’s at six?”

  “Aye, I’ll walk ye down. Ye sure ye dinnae want a ride?”

  I suppressed my body’s impulse to respond with a yes, I’d very much like a ride, and pretended my thoughts weren’t still in the gutter.

  “No, I’m fine, really. I can let myself out. No need to bother.”

  “Alright then. I’ll see ye later on.” I collected my clutch and Drew walked with me to his front door and slid open the heavy, wooded thing.

  “Oh, wow. It’s real.”

  “Aye, I have a thing for old warehouse buildings, I guess. All authentic detailing, mind.”

  “It’s a nice touch. Well, thanks again ...” Do I shake his hand? Kiss him goodbye?

  “It was nae bother.”

  “Well okay.”

  And with that, I hurried down the two flights of stairs I had no memory of Drew carrying me up. I paused at the security door and looked up at hearing Drew lock his door.

  Everything seemed to only take twenty or so minutes to get to, and I spent those ones in daze the whole way to Anne’s. Surprisingly,
I didn’t get lost this time, but I was so nervous about getting caught coming in with last night’s clothes on. I was a grown woman, for pity’s sake, and what would Anne care anyway. I wasn’t her daughter tarting around. I snuck in the back door like some silly teen all the same.

  Chapter Five

  There I was, outside Cascades at five minutes to six. I’d spent the whole afternoon kicking myself for not getting Drew’s number so I could tell him I’d changed my mind. I couldn’t believe I was about to start working here, for Drew, of all people.

  It made sense that he owned the bar. His apartment had the same style, the same flair, but he seemed so young. What I really couldn’t wrap my head around was that I was stupid enough to start working for him, a man that throws me for a complete loop. I couldn’t think clearly when I was around him, if our limited past experience was anything to go by. One minute I would be more turned on than I had ever been, the next, frustrated beyond comprehension. The smart thing would have been to walk away, leave it alone, but no, I had to start working for the hot Scotsman.

  I built up my shields in a desperate attempt to hold on to myself, and hoped that under a more professional setting they would hold, surely I wouldn’t still be attracted to my boss. It a fruitless fancy, but I could hope. My story was at the ready, if asked. I hated that part; the questions that always came. Who are you, where are you from, tell me your life story. Why everyone felt the need to know every little inconsequential detail is beyond me, but somehow, I still walked through the door.

  As promised, Drew was waiting against the bar. He straightened when I entered the room, and the dimpled smirk I had begun to expect was replaced by a more...professional smile, flat and lifeless. I didn't like it. It didn't sit well with me. He looked...cold.

  “Hello, Drew. Or should I call you boss now?” I grinned, and he seemed to relax a bit in his shoulders. And his smile became a little more natural.

  “Drew’s fine, but I did want to talk to ye about this morning. What happened, well naught happened nae really, I guess. I mean ...” He stumbled, his thick Scottish brogue breaking through. By the way he had trouble saying what he needed to, he seemed for the first time genuinely uncomfortable and unsure around me. I liked that.