Time and Time Again (Maybe #2.5)(9)

I clear one of the tables, wiping it down and picking up two glasses. “Hello gorgeous.”

I look up and to my left at the man approaching me.

“Hello,” I say, my tone friendly, but professional.

When I turn to leave, he gently grips my upper arm. “Dance with me.”

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m working and not available, but I’m sure you can find someone else.”

“I don’t want someone else,” he says, eyes lowering to my chest. “I’m Richard.”

I pull my arm away and move to turn.

“She’s not interested,” comes a deep, menacing voice from behind me. “And don’t f*ckin’ touch her again.”

Richard swallows, nods, then loses himself in the crowd. Smart man. I turn around and raise an eyebrow at Tag, then walk past him and into the kitchen. I’m placing the glasses next to the sink when he comes up behind me. “Stay behind the bar with me. Someone else can do the tables.”

I turn around and give him an ‘are you kidding me’ look. “I can’t do that. Reid told me to do the tables.”

“Reid will change his mind.”

“They’re going to want to fire me.”

Tag crosses his impressive arms over his even sexier chest. “They won’t fire you.”

“Tag, I can handle a few drunk, flirty men. It’s no big deal,” I say. “It, unfortunately, comes with working in a place like this.”

His eyes narrow. “You’re f*ckin’ stubborn, you know that?”

“And you’re unreasonable,” I sniff.

He runs his fingers over his goatee. “Unless you like the attention?”

Was he f*cking serious?

“Yes Tag,” I purr. “I love all those random drunk men paying attention to me just because I have a pair of boobs. Really, it’s the best compliment ever.”

I don’t think my tone could be laced with anymore sarcasm than it is.

“Bar,” he growls then turns and storms out.

Rolling my eyes to myself, I follow him and stand at the bar, a few steps away from him. He closes the space between us. “I haven’t slept with the same woman twice in a long ass time.”

My eyes flare at his admission. “I don’t think that’s something to be proud about.”

He flashes me a sheepish grin. “I didn’t say I was proud. It’s just the truth. Last night… Trust me. I wanted to, but we can’t. I wouldn’t do that to you, okay? Plus, you’re young and it would feel like I was taking advantage of you.”

I blink slowly. “I’m not that much younger than you. And you aren’t taking advantage. It was me that tried to kiss you last night. Remember?”

I can feel my cheeks heat at the reminder.

He sighs, rubbing his hand over his bald head. “This whole thing is messed up. I’ve only hooked up with one woman since you moved in, and I normally…”

He trails off when he sees the look on my face. He’s been with a woman while I was living with him? I know I have no claims on him—trust me, I know—but it still hurts. Here I was, crushing on him like crazy, worshiping his every move, and thinking that he was spending all his time with me and only me. Fuck. How stupid am I?

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says quietly, frowning. “Clara, we aren’t together. You can’t get upset.”

I open my mouth, then close it. He’s right, and I hate it. “You’re right,” I mumble, looking away from his gaze.

“I have needs,” he says in a low tone, so only I can hear.

And I can’t fulfil them because he won’t let me.

I force a smile and look back up at him. “I get it, Tag.”

We aren’t anything but friends, and I had to accept that. He’d been good to me, better than anyone else had been, and he shouldn’t feel guilty over something I had imagined in my head.

“Clara—”

“I’ll hopefully be out in a week or two anyway,” I say, shrugging. “You can go back to bringing women home or whatever. I didn’t mean to put a damper on your sex life.”

“Fuck Clara. That isn’t what I meant. You know I love having you living with me.”

A customer walks up, so I turn to serve her, ignoring Tag. “What can I get you?”

She orders two squashed frog shots.

“I’ll make them,” Tag says, grabbing two shot glasses.

“That’s fourteen dollars,” I tell her, take her money, and hand her the change. Tag slides the two shots over to her before turning back to me, clearly eager to continue the conversation. I, on the other hand, am happy to avoid it.

“We aren’t done talking,” he says, narrowing his eyes on me.

But we are. Because I wasn’t having any more hopes when it came to Tag and I being more than friends.





My mum calls me again the next morning. Groaning, I put my phone on silent. Growing up, I always thought I had the best family, but then I found out the truth. My dad had another family. He had a mistress and two children from her—I had two step-sisters that I hadn’t met. Apparently, the affair started when I was about five and was still going strong today. When I was eight years old, my mother found out the truth about everything; however, instead of leaving my father, she stayed. I didn’t find out until two years ago.