Protecting What's His (Line of Duty #1)(10)

“Can I get your number?”

She pulled a sad face. “Sorry, darlin’. I can’t give my number out while I’m working. But if you give me yours, I just might decide to use it.”

Backward Hat high-fived his friend like Ginger wasn’t standing three feet away, then grabbed a napkin from the plastic holder. He drunkenly scrawled his name and number on one side and slid it across the bar. Matt. She stuffed it in her back pocket along with the two other napkins with numbers on them she’d been given tonight. They’d be perfect for her current project. A decoupage trash can decorated with men’s phone numbers. Symbolic.

Backward Hat Matt. Kind of a rat. Since we’ve been chatting, your beer has gone flat.

“You better call me!” Matt said, picking up his drink and disappearing back into the crowd.

Ginger sighed and moved on to the next customers. Thankfully, they had vaginas. While shaking their martinis in a silver shaker, she acknowledged her luck in finding this job. Although the night’s tips hadn’t yet been counted, she’d easily pulled in double what she made working in Nashville.

Sensation stood in a hip part of town with many other bars and nightclubs. With two floors of pumping dance music and three separate bars, college students and young professionals flocked to the establishment every night of the week. Wanting to test her skills, the manager had placed Ginger on the first-floor bar, closest to the entrance where the flow of traffic never ceased, for which she felt grateful. Tonight had been meant as a training shift, but her new coworker Amanda quickly recognized Ginger’s experience and left to work the other side of the bar. The time flew by and the money rolled in.

Looking up from the martinis she artfully strained into chilled glasses, Ginger smiled at the approaching Amanda. Also in her early twenties, Amanda sported a blond pixie cut that Ginger found daring and perfect for her angular face.

Her new coworker had to shout over the music to be heard. “Hey! Looks like you got the hang of everything quick!”

Ginger responded in kind. “Everything is so well-organized all I have to do is make drinks. I’ve been so busy, I don’t think I’ve stopped for a second!”

She leaned in closer and winked. “That’s because all the men have been favoring your side of the bar.”

Ginger gave her a dubious look. “Oh, come on now. Wasn’t that you I saw doing tequila shots with those businessmen about ten minutes ago?”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

Ginger laughed and set down napkins in front of the group of girls on which to place their martinis. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell. Tequila shots are sacred among my kind.”

“Good to know. Listen, you’ve got one more admirer on my end that wants you to serve him. There were no spots available on your side of the bar.”

Frowning, she tried to look past Amanda, but couldn’t make out distinct faces at the other end of the darkened bar. Who would be demanding her service? She hadn’t been in town long enough to make any friends.

“You want to take my side for a while?”

“Sure. Go ahead and serve him.” She hip-bumped Ginger, urging her on. “Honestly, I’m a little jealous. He’s all kinds of hot and smolder-y. Keep thy wits about ye.”

With a laugh, Ginger made her way to the other end of the long bar, gauging drink levels of the customers as she passed. After pausing to fill two orders, she finally made it to the end and saw him.

Derek.

His eyes bored into her, making her feel naked where she stood. The way he sat, exuding quiet confidence, made him stand out amid the animated scene taking place around him.

A slow roll of heat eased its way through her. Goose bumps broke out along her arms. In the brief moment that she met his eyes, the music faded and they were back on the roof. Just her and him. Except this time, he kissed her.

Giving herself a mental shake, Ginger released his unwavering stare to move lower. She’d already seen him in a uniform and then jeans and a sweatshirt, but Ginger pegged this look as her definite favorite. A black T-shirt stretched across his chest, the right sleeve just high enough to show a tattoo peeking out underneath the material. Stubble darkened the lower half of his face, as if he hadn’t shaved since this morning.

He looked dangerous and sexy. And pissed.

She refused to let him rattle her. His parting words on the roof last night had echoed in her head at the strangest times today, making her itchy. Of all the men who’d attempted to pick her up in this lifetime, never had one made it beneath her skin. She didn’t like the feeling.

Much.

Ginger grabbed a tumbler from the clear glass shelf and poured two fingers of their best whiskey.

“Are you here to issue more warnings?” she asked, sliding the drink in front of him.

Keeping his gaze locked on her, Derek picked up the glass and drank a healthy mouthful. Ginger swayed a little watching his throat muscles work as he swallowed, then set the glass down. “No. I think I was abundantly clear the first time.”

His answer reminded her of a whip cracking. “Something bothering you, Derek?”

“How are you getting home tonight?”

She smirked at his nonresponse to her question. “I took the bus.”

“I’ll drive you.”

“Thanks for the offer, but I’ll take my chances with public transportation.”