Stripped Bare (Stripped #1)(61)

“Oh lord, you’re a special snowflake today. Take them off, doll. They’re just feet. As long as you don’t have any bunions or anything, we’re good.”

“No. I don’t.” I bent forward at the waist and pulled my shoes off. I set them on the table closest to me before swinging a chair around and attempting to step up onto it.

My skirt didn’t give. At all. It didn’t rip, either, so that went in my favor too.

Even when I hitched it up and tried to sort of bounce off my other foot, it wouldn’t give enough. Vicky could have helped, but when I almost fell backward, she burst into peals of laughter and leaned back on her hands.

I sighed.

“What on Earth are you doing?” West walked from the bar to us, his hair messed up where he’d obviously been running his hand through it. “Are you practicing for an audition for Cirque du Soleil?”

I gave him the look. You know the look—the sarcastic, dry one that said, Are you f*cking kidding me?

“Yes. That’s exactly what I’m doing. How did you guess?”

“The awkward barefoot bouncing clued me in.” His eyes twinkled. “Do you want a hand?”

“I’m good.” I waved him off and rolled my skirt up another inch. Now, it was just above my knees. “My skirt wasn’t made for climbing.”

I made another attempt to get onto the chair, but I still couldn’t do it—and I didn’t find myself all that surprised when West grasped my waist and effortlessly lifted me to sit on the edge of the stage. I gripped his arms, my teeth sinking into my lower lip.

Boy, they were nice arms. I wanted to squeeze them.

“Thank you,” I said quietly.

“Any time.” His eyes lingered on my mouth before he stepped back, forcing me to drop my grip on his upper arms. “How do they look?”

“Hm?” Apparently, my hands had dropped, but my focus hadn’t, because I was staring at him. “Oh. The fliers. Right.”

Vicky laughed again.

I glared at her. “I’ve only seen the general one, but... Hold on. Let me grab one. I’ve pushed them around.” I scooted back on my butt before rolling onto my knees and crawling across the stage. At least it was super clean...

And I just stuck my butt pretty much in West’s face.

I peered over my shoulder, my teeth once again in my lip, and looked at him. He was standing perfectly still, his eyebrow raised, his eyes shining with a lusty burn, and his lips curved into his dirty, sexy smirk.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to force my butt into your face.” That’s an apology I’d never thought I’d have to make.

“I’m not complaining,” he offered. “If that makes a difference.”

Yes, it did, but it shouldn’t have. Damn it. Why couldn’t we put our attraction in time out? If it were up to me, I’d have had our mutual one in the naughty corner quicker than you could set the timer.

This went against everything I’d said not twenty minutes ago.

“Here’s the general flier.” Vicky cleared her throat and handed it to him, glancing at me. “We didn’t unpack the others yet.”

“And Beck just left you?” West asked, taking the flier.

“No. He wanted to get stuff done next door before the hot lesbian cocktail chick gets here.”

“He doesn’t know she’s a lesbian. Got it.” West scanned the flier before looking up at me. “These are amazing.”

My cheeks lightly flushed, and I shrugged a shoulder. “They’re not too bad.”

“Not too bad? You’re not giving yourself enough credit. Mia, these are brilliant.”

“Thanks.” I smiled a tiny smile and tucked my hair behind my ear. “I hope the others are good.”

They were—just as good, if not better. They were better if you listened to West, and Vicky did, which meant I had to too. They were pretty good; I had to admit that much at least. We unpacked stacks of each together, and then West clapped his hands once.

“Vicky,” he said, breaking through the easy silence that had descended. “I need to submit the order this afternoon. Can you check the inventory in the cellar? The order form is upstairs on my desk. I think I have most of it, but I did it yesterday, so after last night’s craziness, we probably need more.”

“Sure. No problem.” She handed him the closed penknife and jumped off the stage. Then she disappeared through the door, leaving us alone together.

I swallowed hard and grabbed the pile of fliers that advertised the Sunday-through-Wednesday happy hour. I wanted to at least get these on tables with the general ones tonight. They were super shiny, so I hoped the worst-spilled drinks would slide right off them without damaging them too much.

I scooted myself to the edge of the stage and jumped down. Then I grabbed both piles of fliers. I almost dropped one pile, and I had no idea how I kept it in my arms.

“Here. Let me take one.” West took the happy hour fliers. “You want them out now?”

I leaned over and pointed to the days. “Might as well. Get as much as possible before the online advertising goes out. We really need to talk about social media too.”

“Yep.”

“I think they’re best on the table.” I put my flier down on the clean, wooden tabletop. “Put two of yours next to it, but a little bit on top. As soon as they sit down, they’ll see them. They’ll probably put them in the holder with the drinks menu after they’re done reading, but most people will pay attention to it. Maybe even take them for future reference, which is why you need two.”