Reluctant Suspicion

Chapter One-3

“Why would I be scared?” he asked.

Molly led him to the kegs and kicked the center one before she leaned back against one of the supporting columns next to the trapdoor. “Vanessa can be a bit… exuberant.”

“How so?” Blake asked.

Molly went to the stack of kegs and pulled one down. Behind her, she heard Blake disconnecting the empty keg. “You should meet her and decide for yourself.”

Dragging the keg around, she came up short when Blake appeared straight in front of her, ready to take the barrel. Molly didn’t argue when he lifted his hands toward it and their vision locked. His fingers slid against hers, and then the weight was gone from her hands. Blake turned to carry on with the job at hand.

Molly had changed a million kegs in her time, but the experience had never made her mouth dry and her heart pound like this. Nerves were the obvious answer. She met strangers in the bar all the time, but she was rarely alone with them. Her employees tended to be friends, or friends of friends. Everyone had been connected to her or recommended. Blake was the first stranger ever to be in her cellar. Even the brewery guys had been coming here for so long that she felt like they were family.

“All done,” he said, and brushed his hands together as he turned back to face her. “What were we talking about?”

“I can’t afford to pay you much,” Molly said, because she had no idea what they’d been talking about.

“I’m sure we can work something out,” he said.

Molly was mortified when he winked at her and moved past in the direction of the exit. “Wait,” Molly said, and spun to see him at the bottom of the stairs.

“Yeah?”

Sex wasn’t something that was on her mind very often. It certainly wasn’t something she gave up to random men indiscriminately. Although that wink had made her think of s*x for some reason, he hadn’t actually mentioned it or made any advance, and she didn’t want to betray where her own thoughts had slunk to.

“We need more peanuts,” she said, and pointed behind him to where the box was situated by the stairs. Molly wasn’t quite comfortable enough to accuse him of something he hadn’t actually done. The wink was possibly just meant as reassurance.

Blake went for the peanuts and as he stretched up, his tee-shirt lifted and revealed a narrow streak of supple skin. Closing her eyes against the sight of his rippling back muscles, they opened again when she heard peanut packets hitting the floor. She was then faced with the view of him bending over picking them up. His tight behind drew her gaze and turned her mouth from dry to overflowing, until her chest felt like it was shaking as it ached against the fabric of her shirt.

“Sorry,” he said, and stood up with the gathered peanut packets. “Are you okay?”

Molly swallowed down her urge to whimper. “Mm hmm,” was as much as she could muster. “Can you pull?”

His lips curled up again. “Who?”

“No,” Molly stuttered. “I… I meant… Can you pump?”

“Pump?” he asked, with a snicker in his voice.

“Draught… I mean… Can you pour drinks?”

“I can,” he said.

“What about the cash register?”

“You’re sure you can leave me alone with it?” he asked.

“We haven’t taken much in tonight. I didn’t have a chance to get to the bank today, so the float was next to nothing. Would you cover for me for a bit?”

“Sure.”

“Joel will keep an eye on you. He’ll report back to me if there are any issues,” she said, and gestured for him to go up the stairs.

“Ladies first,” he said, but stepped back only a fraction of an inch.

Molly squeezed herself between him and the banister, and her chest crushed itself against his ribs, so she cursed herself for not turning the other way. Of course that would have meant that her a*s would have been pressed into his groin. Her eyes wandered up to once again find his locked onto her.

The candid way he stared at her made her skin itch. She wanted to be freaked out or scared, except it wasn’t intimidating. It wasn’t fear that she felt, perhaps because the staring wasn’t angry or pushy. His gaze consumed her, and yet it was more curious than intrusive.

“Thank you,” Molly murmured.

“Manners cost nothing,” he said. With his free hand, he took a stray lock of hair from her lip and tucked it behind her ear.

“The ladies upstairs are drinking the wine in the bottom of the fridge. Be nice to them,” Molly said, as a way to change the subject. “But not too nice.”

“How nice is too nice?”

Molly continued up the stairs and listened to the heavy pound of his footsteps behind her. Each one shook her chest again and sent a harsh bolt to her heart.

“I have no problem with you dating, or sleeping with, anyone you meet upstairs. Just don’t do it while I’m paying you or you’re on my property.”

“Fair enough,” Blake said. “Any other rules?”

“Uh…” Molly thought about this as she dropped the cellar door closed behind him. She turned off the light with the switch on the wall and began jiggling the key in the lock again, hoping it would catch soon.

“Is that a no?” he asked.

“Rules… just the usual. Don’t steal, don’t drink… anything alcoholic that is. You can help yourself to soda. Get any troublemakers out the door, but unless you think they mean real trouble, we only toss them. Don’t call the cops.”

“What if I do think that they mean trouble?”

“Calling the cops is a last resort around here, very last resort. If you feel that you absolutely have to call them then just say you’re a concerned citizen, don’t invite them to the bar. Try not to get too involved.”

“Why not?”

“They ask too many questions.”

“Oh,” Blake said. His interest had obviously been piqued. “Are you selling knocked off goods or black-market cigarettes?”

“No,” Molly said. “Everything in this place is above board. It always has been. If I was to find one of my employees doing anything other than that, then they would be out the door.”

“Noted,” Blake said. “So why do you dislike questions?”

“It’s not the questions that I dislike,” Molly said, with one hand on the banister that led up the stairs. “They give you false hope. They ask you all these questions and you answer them in the belief that your answers will make a difference… They don’t.”

“Not a fan, then.”

“Nope,” Molly said. “They are as useless as all the other men out there.”

“You’ll give me a complex.”

“Men are good for some things,” Molly said, and took a step upward.

“Such as?” Blake asked, moving in one stride to the bottom of the stairs.

“I’m sure you’ll find out when you grow up.”

“I’m thirty-four.”

“Physically maybe,” Molly said. “But if you’re like every other man out there, then you probably have the mental and emotional age of a thirteen-year-old.”

“How is your bitterness working out for you?”

“I’m not bitter,” Molly said with a loose shrug. “It’s just the way of the world.” She took another couple of steps up. “Oh, the women… Belinda is the one in the green top with the blonde hair and the generous chest. Her sister is Melissa, she’s sitting next to her, quieter, more modest. She’s wearing the pink shirt and the heart pendant.”

“Okay,” Blake said. “Why do I need to know this?”

“It’s Melissa’s birthday. The sisters are regulars, but I don’t know the woman they are with. Anyway, knock a few bucks off the wine and make sure they get in a taxi when they leave. Don’t let them just walk out.”

“Will do, Boss,” Blake said.

“Prices are all labelled out,” Molly said. “If you have any problems that Joel can’t help you with, just shout up the stairs and I’ll come down. Don’t come up here. Ever.”

“Oh ‘kay,” he said.

“Just shout,” she said, with her best adamant look. “This is important, it’s rule number one… Thanks.”

As she ascended the stairs she was tempted to glance back over her shoulder, because she could feel him watching her again. His stare burned into her skin through her clothes. When she reached the top, the drive to turn was overwhelming, so she gave in to it and allowed her focus to drift down. Sure enough, there he was, at the foot of the stairs with his hand on the newel ball, gazing up at her with those still-curious eyes.