Page 13 of Tempting Kat
I turn to find myself facing a pack of women in matching pink sashes, the leader sporting a plastic tiara with “BRIDE TO BE” flashing in LED lights.
“We need a round of Blowjobs,” Tiara Girl announces, giggling as her friends whoop and holler behind her. “Ten of them.”
“Coming right up,” I say, tearing my eyes away from Mr. Mysterious to grab shot glasses.
“Make sure they're extra creamy,” one of the bridesmaids slurs, already three sheets to the wind.
“That's what she said!” another one shrieks, and they all dissolve into laughter like it's the funniest fucking joke they've ever heard.
I roll my eyes but keep my customer service smile plastered on as I start building the shots—Amaretto, Bailey’s, topped with whipped cream. The bride-to-be leans over the bar, her tiara tilting precariously.
“You have to do one with us,” she insists, waving a twenty-dollar bill. “It's my bachelorette party!”
“Sorry, I'm working,” I say, arranging the shots on a tray.
“Please? Just one? I'll tip you extra.” She waves the twenty in my face like I'm a fucking stripper.
Santiago catches my eye from down the bar and gives me a subtle nod. Fine. One shot won't kill me.
“Alright, one,” I agree, adding an eleventh shot to the tray. The bridesmaids cheer like I've just announced free drinks for life.
I carry the tray to their table, painfully aware that Mr. Mysterious has a perfect view of this shit show from his booth. The bridesmaids are already arranging themselves around the table, giggling and taking selfies with the shots.
“Okay ladies, hands behind your backs,” I instruct, setting down the tray. “No hands allowed.”
They squeal with delight as they position themselves, hands clasped behind their backs. I reluctantly join them, placing my shot in front of me.
They all bend down, hands behind their backs, to wrap their lips around the shots.
I join in, catching the shot glass between my lips and throwing my head back to down it in one smooth motion. The sweet liqueur slides down my throat as the women cheer.
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand as I straighten up, and that's when I see her. Krista, the new shot girl with the fake tits and even faker personality, is leaning over Mr. Mysterious' booth, one hand on the table, the other twirling a strand of bleached blonde hair around her finger. She's laughing at something he's said, her tits practically falling out of her low-cut top as she leans closer.
What. The. Actual. Fuck.
My blood instantly boils, a wave of possessiveness crashing over me that I have absolutely no right to feel. But I feel it anyway, hot and demanding in my chest.
“You ladies have a good night, okay?” I tell the bride squad, barely looking at them. “Try not to break anything, including yourselves. Drink some water between shots.”
I don't wait for their response, already moving through the crowded bar toward the booth. My heart's pounding in my ears, drowning out the music and chatter. All I can focus on is the way Krista is practically purring at him, and how his eyes—those dark, intense eyes that usually follow my every move—are fixed on her face.
“Hey, Krista,” I say, bumping my hip against hers hard enough to make her stumble sideways. “I've got this. You don't need to take his order.”
She blinks at me, surprise and annoyance flashing across her face. “I was just?—”
“I've got him,” I repeat, my voice sharper. “Always. Go check on table twelve, they look thirsty.”
Krista's eyes narrow, darting between me and Mr. Mysterious. “Whatever,” she mutters, tossing her hair as she walks away.
I turn to face him, suddenly aware of how fucking territorial I just acted. His expression is unreadable, but there's something in his eyes—something dark and satisfied—that makes my stomach flip.
“Your usual?” I ask, trying to sound casual, like I didn't just stake a claim on him in front of the whole damn bar.
“Please.” His voice is deep, rougher than usual. “And maybe an explanation for what just happened.”
I shrug, fighting the heat rising to my cheeks. “Just doing my job. Taking care of my regular customers.”
“Is that what I am? A regular customer?” He leans forward slightly, those eyes pinning me in place. “Because that didn't look like customer service. That looked like jealousy, Katarina.”
