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One

Haley

“I don't get it,” I mutter

My hand stills against the countertop, a white bar rag clutched firrasp

Natalia Barlow leans across the end of the bar, putting her ass and the top of her thong on full display for the table of bikers behind her An unlit cigarette is perched between her cherry-red lips, threatening to topple to the floor as she catchesand smirks

I roll my eyes and turn my back to her

“I don’t get it,” I say again, louder this time

My gaze fixes on thea barstool on this side of the restaurant Grayson Blake Black hair, scruffy beard, tall, and oh-so muscular with tattoos etched into his tanned skin Word has it that he has flaht hip, and when he moves, they dance as if they’re alive

I’veI’ll (sadly) never know for o for woet Woames they play

I’m not one of those women It will be both my personal and professional downfall

Grayson lifts his beer bottle, and as if it pains hiaze to mine

I s Hard

It doesn’t matter that I’ve worked at Fireside Bar and Grill for two years or that I’ve spent countless hours behind this very bar while Grayson sits on the other side, I can’t think straight when he looks at me I also can’t look away It’s quite the predicament

“It just perplexes aze into the steely depths of Grayson’s eyes My voice isn’t quite as confident as it was a few seconds ago It’ll coet s

Grayson’s features are void of humor Or emotion Or curiosity He watchessure I don’t choke on a peanut or small coin

I biteinto the rockoverhead