Page 5 of Fourth Wheel
He has a little of that “aww, shucks” Andy Griffith energy that reminds me of my brother, but there’s something darker simmering below the surface. He isn’t some fuckboy who’s all talk and no action. No, he’s gorgeous. Charismatic. Enticing without being overly cocky. He’s obviously older than me, with an inimitable confidence about him.
He moves with this grace and ease, like he genuinely enjoys refilling drinks and flirting with every single person who hits on him. And believe me—I’ve been keeping track. Just about every person he talks to acts like they’re the moth and he’s the flame.
Watching him flirt doesn’t bother me. They can try to get his attention all they want.
But he keeps coming back tome.
None of the other guys working have even tried to approach me—whether because of Jake’s warning, or because Dempsey hasn’t gone three minutes without checking on me, I’m not sure.
Jake’s been hovering for the last half hour, prowling and scowling. It pisses him off that I stayed after he shut me down—and that Dempsey’s paying me more than my share of attention.
Serves him right for trying to dismiss me.
Honestly, I should be grateful Jake tried to shoo me out of the bar. He gave me this opportunity to get Dempsey’s attention. I’ve learned plenty about the other brother over the last few hours.
He is well liked and respected by everyone he works with. They all treat him like he’s their big brother or their dad or something. Even Jake talks to him differently than he talks to the other guys.
He is all charm and smiles when he faces the front of the bar, but the second he turns around, he frowns. It’s not an angry frown, but he makes this serious expression where his eyebrows pull and his entire forehead wrinkles. The first time I saw it, I was overwhelmed by the urge to run my hand over his face and smooth out the wrinkles. I’ve been itching to touch him for hours. There’s no way I’m leaving here tonight without a taste. Or a feel. Or hell, the full Dempsey Haas experience, if he’s up for it.
And most importantly, he absolutely, positively, 100 percent has no idea who I am.
And I’m going to keep it that way. At least until I get what I want.
Chapter 3
Maddie
Lastcallwastwentyminutes ago, and I’m working overtime trying to play this right. There are still a few other patrons milling around, and Jake’s been sitting at the far end of the bar, staring at a laptop, paying me no attention.
I slide my key ring around on the bar again, fighting the temptation to carve my initials into this big chunk of wood with my house key. Who would willingly choose something like this for a bar? The thing’s not even sanded or varnished.
I’ve seen less of Dempsey in the last twenty minutes than I have all night. He keeps going from the bar to the little hallway that must lead to a stockroom or offices before coming back again. I just need him to stay here for more than thirty seconds for this to work.
The next time he approaches, he’s carrying a few bottles in his arms. I give him a salacious up and down, and he raises one eyebrow when he spots the keys in my hands.
“Heading out?” he asks.
This is probably the best opening I’ll get.
I hop off the barstool intentionally fast, legit stumbling a bit as I establish my balance in these heels. I hold up my keys for emphasis, letting them jingle and tempting fate.
“Stop right there.”
I fight back a grin as Jake’s bossy-ass command rings out across the bar.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
When I look over at him, he’s already on his feet.
“I’m going home, Jakey. Just like you wanted.” I jingle my keys again for emphasis.
No one knows I didn’t drive here tonight and that my only option is to call a ride share. Or at least, thatwasmy only option, until this totally brill plan took shape.
“You know damn well I’m not going to let you drive,” he asserts, coming to stand a few feet from me with his big-ass arms crossed over his chest.
“Why not? You didn’t serve me,” I mock-scoff, throwing out an arm and gripping the bar with one hand for balance. He tracks my movements as the tension between us rachets up ten degrees.
“Put your damn keys away before I take them, Fourth Wheel. I’ll drive you home when I’m done.”
