Fangs But No Fangs

CHAPTER 7

"A man shouldn't be that pretty," Jed stated as Christian carried another tray of drinks to a table. The woman at the table obviously didn't agree as she looked Christian up and down, a hungry look in her overly made-up eyes. The two men with the woman seemed to be in Jed's camp.

Jolee glanced back at Jed. The old man still grimaced at Christian like his looks were disgusting rather than perfect.

Jolee had to agree. It was a little disgusting. Mainly because she found herself paying more attention to him than the drinks that needed to be made.

She focused on what she was supposed to be making— a gin and tonic. She turned and started to reach for the bottle of gin from the second shelf of lined-up liquors. When suddenly Christian was there, getting the bottle for her. The muscles in his shoulder rippled under the expensive material of his shirt as he lowered his arm and turned to hand the bottle to her.

"Thanks," she said, keeping her voice cool even as tingling warmth stole over her skin.

His gaze roamed over her face. Then he smiled, another of those darned irritating half-smiles. His eyes glittered as if he was fully aware of her real reaction to him.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, his velvety voice low and full of innuendo.

She gritted her teeth. She hated that her darn body responded to his looks, and she really hated that he was aware of that fact.

"Fine," she said curtly, returning to the empty glass on the bar.

But even as she focused on mixing the drink, she could feel him behind her. Just inches away. Heat again sizzled across the skin of her back. She determinedly ignored the sensation, adding mixer to the glass and placing it on the tray with the others.

"Ready," she said, sliding down the bar away from him, making sure to avoid any contact with him.

He didn't speak as he took the tray and headed back out to the floor. She didn't allow herself to watch him, instead busying herself with the orders of the patrons seated at the bar. The place was definitely hopping. A wonderful change, and if she wasn't in pain and forced to accept help from the man she'd decided to avoid, she'd be skipping around to fill all the drink orders, but as it was, she was walking gingerly and cursing her luck.

"Hi," a female voice said as Jolee was reaching for another mug under the bar. Jolee popped up, her head only grumbling a little, to find the woman who really enjoyed a good blue eyeliner.

"I have a question for you." She smiled, actually appearing a little sheepish.

"Shoot," Jolee said.

"Does the guy waiting tables work here every night?"

"No," Jolee said, not hiding the relief in her voice. "He's only helping me out tonight."

She couldn't handle him near her every night. She wiped an arm across her damp brow. She'd spontaneously combust.

"Oh," the woman said, disappointment clear on her face. "I was going to tell all my girlfriends they had to come up here and check him out."

Jolee gave her a regretful smile. "Sorry."

"Me, too." The woman headed back to her table, although her gaze was again on Christian.

He stood at another table, his back to the bar. And if Jolee wasn't mistaken, the woman was staring at his behind. Jolee followed the woman's gaze. It was a fine behind.

She groaned. Stop this! Now!

She grabbed up a damp rag and pressed the cloth to her cheek. The cool moisture felt good on her overheated skin. She could not be attracted to a man who, if it wasn't for the guilt of nearly grinding her under the wheels of his sports car, would still be treating her like… well, something else he might find under the wheels of his car.

"Where'd you find the pretty boy anyway?" Jed asked, scowling like he'd swallowed something bitter.

It took Jolee a moment to realize he was talking about Christian.

"He's my neighbor."

He grunted. "Well, he'd like to be more than that."

Jolee chuckled. "Hardly." She reached for his beer. "I think I need to cut you off."

He snatched the mug away from her. "When he lays his eyes on you, he looks downright hungry."

Given the state of his refrigerator and cupboards, he probably was hungry.

Jolee shook her head. "Believe me, you're imagining things. He's here out of guilt. Nothing more."

Jed frowned like he was unconvinced and reached for his cigarettes.

Christian walked up to the bar, placing an order slip on the bar. "These mor— people really drink."

He glanced over his shoulder at the crowd and shook his head.

Annoyance rose up quickly in Jolee's chest. Both at his comment and his taken aback look. And had he been about to refer to her patrons as morons? He'd definitely been about to call them something.

"These mor— people" — she mimicked his accent— "are spending their good money to have a good time. They don't need your judgment." She snatched up the order slip.

Christian appeared completely unfazed by her outburst. His gaze searched her face. "Are you feeling all right?"

She ignored him and started filling his orders. She could feel him watching her, but she didn't return his look.

"Jolee," he said, his accent making her name sound beautiful.

She clenched her teeth. Stop it! Stop being attracted to this man.

"Jolee," he repeated, and she did look at him. "What's wrong?"

"You think you're better than everyone. That's what's wrong."

He actually seemed surprised by her response. "I was just making an observation. I've never served drinks in a bar or, well, anywhere before. I didn't realize how much work it is. I certainly meant no offense."

She studied him for a moment and couldn't detect anything but honesty in his words. Honesty. Number One on his twelve step list, if she remembered right. Was this all just an act? His attempt to be normal?

She immediately felt guilty. He'd been busting butt all night to help her. She should be thankful, at least for that. "Oh. Okay. Sorry to get snippy."

"That's okay. I deserve it." He offered a slight smile, then took the new tray of drinks and headed back to the floor.

She frowned, watching him. He sure ran hot and cold. She didn't know what to make of him, which part of him to trust. The noble guy who came to her aid or the distant guy who acted strangely and looked down his nose at her.

Tonight he hadn't acted condescending or haughty. He'd stepped right into the role of replacement cocktail waitress. And he was rather… good.

And despite all her thoughts about him thinking he was better than others, and now her declaration to him about his behavior, he really wasn't like the people here. He might not be any better than her customers, or herself, but he sure wasn't like them.

He placed a mug in front of a burly man in a dirty tank top that barely covered his beer belly. Christian nodded politely at the man, then strolled on to deliver the next drink. He sure didn't look like a waiter at a run-down bar, more like the host of a ritzy party. Even serving beer.

The woman who'd asked if he was a regular waiter called him over to order another drink. She seemed to be having a difficult time making up her mind. She giggled and touched Christian's hand. The men with her appeared unimpressed with her behavior, while Christian's expression was somewhere between exasperation and mild fear.

Jolee suddenly realized having him work here tonight had actually worked out well on two counts. She had needed the help. Her shoulder had already stopped throbbing. And the experience just might have humbled him a bit. It was rather amusing to watch someone who was obviously used to being the one waited on, wait on others.

The woman finally made up her mind, and as Christian turned to leave the table, the woman pinched his butt. Jolee giggled. Oh, this was definitely worth her unwanted attraction to him. He had to be in hell.

And Christian had thought his trailer was hell. This place was sheer agony. Loud mortals, the even louder twang of music playing from a blinking machine against the wall, and the stale smell of beer and smoke. Under all that was the unrelenting scent of blood, prodding his hunger. Teasing it. Mocking it. That alone would have been difficult to handle, but all together, the experience was just excruciating.

And now, a woman with the cosmetic discrimination of a clown had just grabbed his ass. His first inclination had been to turn and bite her offending hand like a mad dog. Lord, how he had fallen.

Then he saw Jolee across the room, a wide smile on her lips. The first smile he'd seen since the night he'd insulted her. Suddenly the pinch and the other assaults to his senses didn't seem to matter.

"What are you smiling about?" he asked as he reached the bar.

"That a woman just pinched your behind." She smothered a giggle, but her dark eyes danced.

All annoyance fled at the sight of her amusement. He smiled, too. "Glad I could be of some enjoyment."

"She came up earlier to see if you were a regular waiter here." She stifled another giggle.

"Well, that could be arranged." Good Lord, had he just offered to continue working in this hellhole?

Jolee's smile faded. "No. I do appreciate tonight. But by tomorrow I'll be able to handle things."

He didn't believe her, but he didn't push the subject either. He was unwilling to ruin the small measure of camaraderie they'd achieved. Instead he nodded and picked up two more drinks that needed to be delivered.

He finished placing them in front of people who frankly didn't need them, then he returned to Jolee. Anxious to see that smile again. To talk to her. But she was down at the far end of the bar, talking to someone else. He started to clear some of the empty glasses on the tables, giving a wide berth to the she-clown with the roving hands, when he sensed Jolee's agitation.

Over the haze of all the other emotions and scents in the room, hers found its way to him, sharp and unmistakable. He strolled in her direction, watching her as she spoke to the person at the end of the bar. He couldn't sense fear or panic, only a vivid sense of anxiety and… displeasure. Was this guy giving her a hard time?

Stepping behind the bar, he walked the length to stand near her— some distance away, but where he could hear what they were discussing.

"Baby, I thought you'd be happier to see me," the man said.

"Mark, how did you find me?"

"Vance."

"News sure does travel fast."

"This place is pretty nice." The guy ignored her comment and rose up on the rungs of the barstool to look around.

Christian shot the man a quick look. Oily brown hair curled up around the edges of his baseball cap. Light brown eyes topped with large shaggy eyebrows. And a mustache. Christian could smell the grease and cigarette smoke clinging to the man's faded T-shirt and jeans.

"Real nice," Mark said, dropping back on his seat. "You look like you are doing all right for yourself, Jo."

"Why are you here, Mark?"

"Can't your old beau stop by for a visit? Maybe a beer?"

Christian frowned. This unpleasant creature had been a boyfriend of Jolee's? His Jolee.

He paused. His Jolee. He could hardly call her that. When had he even begun to consider her that? Yet he realized that he didn't want to think of that man touching her smooth pale skin with his dirty hands. Or kissing her lush lips. Why on earth would he care? He knew the fact that he wanted to touch her skin and taste her lips was due to his hunger. No other reason.

"One beer," Jolee told Mark and turned to go to the tap.

She saw Christian. She smiled, but not the joyous grin of earlier. She slipped past him, her slender body not making contact with his, but he felt her delicious heat passing over him. A few moments later she slid back by and set the beer in front of Mark. She started to leave him again, but Mark caught her injured arm.

Christian straightened as she winced.

"What happened?" Mark asked, still not releasing his hold. A thumb with dirt under the nail rubbed the edge of the bandage on her arm.

"Just a little accident."

Christian raised an eyebrow at that description. But she wasn't about to give this guy the whole story; she obviously didn't want to talk to him.

"Mark, I do have to get back to work."

To Christian's surprise, he let go of her arm. "Sure. I'm good." Mark drank down half his beer in one swallow.

She slipped back past Christian, going to fill a mug for a man in a green baseball hat at the other end of the bar who'd waved to her.

"Are you okay?" he asked on the way by her.

She nodded, giving him a quick smile that didn't reach her eyes. She turned her attention to topping off the mug. "Sure. Just a guy from my hometown."

He noted that she didn't refer to him as a past boyfriend. He could tell she was still anxious, but he didn't question her further, instead he returned to the floor to take orders.

The evening continued smoothly with both of them working steadily until by about one-thirty most of the patrons had left. Including the woman with the groping hands, to his relief. Only the pool players, the old man who'd occupied a barstool near the tap all evening, and Mark remained.

Christian cleared tables, putting glasses and trash into a gray tub. Not a pleasant job. Jolee worked behind the bar, washing glassware. Probably not a great job either, he decided.

"Jolee," Mark called to her. "I'll take another."

Christian had noted that the one beer Jolee told him he could have had turned into several.

Jolee didn't shout back, nor did she pour him another. Instead she walked back down the bar to speak to him in a hushed tone.

Mark, who had obviously had enough beer, didn't feel the same compulsion. "You're cutting me off. Just like when we were a couple, eh? Always trying to control the situation."

Christian picked up the tub and went behind the bar, placing glasses into the sink.

"Mark, don't make a scene. You've already had too much to drive," Jolee pointed out calmly.

"I can sleep in my truck. Or I can sleep at your place. Can't I, darlin'?"

Jolee shook her head. "No, Mark."

Mark fixed an angry stare at her. "Too good for me now? Vance said you moved away because you thought you were too good for the likes of us."

"That isn't why I left, Mark."

Christian found the man's words interesting, given that she'd just made the same accusation about him earlier tonight. That he thought he was too good. He wondered why she did leave. Moving to Shady Fork couldn't have been that much of an improvement from her hometown. Then he looked at Mark.

Well, maybe it was.

"Mark, you're drunk. Just go out to your truck and sleep it off." She started to walk away, but like earlier, Mark caught her arm. Except this time he gave it a sharp jerk.

Jolee cried out.

Instantly, Christian was at Jolee's side, his fist knotted in the front of Mark's sweaty, worn T-shirt. "Let her go."

Mark, startled and disoriented from the beer he'd drunk, stared down at Christian's hand, then back up to him. Finally he asked Jolee, "Who the hell is this?"

"Let her go," Christian repeated.

Mark did. Jolee stepped back.

"Is this why you left?" Mark demanded.

Jolee didn't respond.

Mark turned his bleary-eyed glare on Christian. "Don't get too riled up about her. She ain't worth it. She's a slut. All the Dugans are lous—»

Christian didn't let him finish, driving a fist right into his insulting mouth. Mark fell against the back of his stool, hanging there, limp and barely conscious. Christian didn't check Jolee's reaction. He jumped over the bar, threw the senseless man over his shoulder, and headed toward the door.

"Christian," Jolee finally called after him.

He turned to find her staring at him with wide, shocked eyes. But he noted she didn't look overly concerned with the unconscious man.

"I'll be right back. As you said, Mark needs to sleep it off in his truck."

He exited the building, but not before he heard the old guy on the stool by the tap say in a gravelly voice, "I like that guy."