Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 101758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
“I’ll walk you out.”
I see that she drives an older model truck, which is not what I would have expected, but I’m learning that seems to be the case with this woman.
She intrigues me.
“I’ll see you tomorrow. Does this timing work for you?” she asks.
“Yeah, it works for me.”
She sets her bag in her truck and nods. “Good. Have a good day, Xander.”
“You too, Ivy.”
CHAPTER FOUR
IVY
Ifeel like I need a nap, a drink, and a Xanax, all at the same time.
I survived the first day.
If I was able to get through that, I can get through all the other days too. I can. Really. Probably.
I was so nervous. I’m working up close and personal, hands on, with Xander Hendrix. The guy who defended me against the bullies in high school and made me feel like I wasn’t a complete loser. The one person who would say hello or give me a nod.
And the best hockey player of all time. Yes, that’s my own opinion, but mine is the only one that matters right now.
He’s sexy as hell, with muscles for days, a voice so smooth that he’s not even trying to say sexy things, and yet, hello, wet panties.
I’d better invest in all kinds of battery-operated boyfriends because this is going to be the test of all tests on my libido.
I’ve worked with handsome, successful men before, but I’ve never reacted this way. Ever. I’m professional and good at what I do. I pride myself on doing an excellent job and keeping it strictly, well, professional.
How many times can I say professional? Until I believe it.
Because I wanted to climb that man like a tree today. And I know for a fact that my boss would not be impressed by that.
I barely have time to stop by the house to change, put on makeup, and pet Cally before I have to go to the bar to place a liquor order and check in on things.
I haven’t seen my mother since the fiasco in her apartment on Friday, and that’s for the best. Because I hate the way my mom makes me feel. Small. Insignificant. Useless.
It took me a long time to realize that I didn’t deserve the way she treated me. That I’m worth so much more than that.
However, because I’m the dutiful daughter, absolutely to a fault, I trudge upstairs to check on her. When I get there, I discover that not only is she not in the living room, but she’s also nowhere in the apartment. This could mean that she ran out for groceries or she skipped town for God knows how long.
Wouldn’t be the first time.
“Hey, Ivy,” Ben says with a quick smile when I walk behind the bar.
“Hi there.” I wrap the half apron around my waist and loop the straps to the front to tie it off. “How’s it been today?”
“Pretty slow. It’ll pick up tonight.”
I nod and immediately reach for the notebook to start writing down what I need to order.
Three hours later, the ordering is done and Ben is gone, and I’m working the evening shift by myself.
Again.
I’ll get home around two thirty, and I need to be at Xander’s by ten tomorrow morning, so I’ll just resign myself to being tired as fuck for the foreseeable future.
Which honestly isn’t anything new. I’ve been running on little sleep for months now.
Our regulars come and go throughout the early evening, and around eight, when I’m watching a football game on the screen above the bar, the door opens and in walks none other than Xander with his brother Easton.
Do I really have to endure being in his presence twice in one day?
Not that I don’t enjoy being around him. I enjoy it too much. The more he’s around, the more likely I am to make a complete ass of myself. And between all the bullshit with my mom and being around Xander all day today, my anxiety is already about to knock me on my ass.
My hands want to shake. My heart knocks on my chest.
You can do this.
I take a steadying breath and paste a smile on my face when the two men—both stupidly handsome and catching glances from other women in the room—stride to the bar.
Xander lifts an eyebrow, and his eyes sweep up and down my body. I’m not in scrubs anymore. I’m in a tight white tank with black jeans, wearing makeup, hair up in a high ponytail. This outfit seems to inspire heavier tipping.
“You still work at the bar?” Xander asks as he leans on a stool.
“Yeah, it’s a family business,” I reply, keeping it vague. “What can I get you guys?”
“Two Cokes,” Easton replies. “I’ll go rack the balls.”
He smiles at me and then walks away, but Xander stays put. He doesn’t even leave when I set two glasses of Coke in front of him.