The Wrong Bond

5

The car pulled up in front of the bar, and I felt a rush of excitement. We both stepped out of the vehicle; this time, we were dressed to blend in.

The Elton pin I’d had on the first time was nowhere to be seen. We wore some of our oldest track pants and loose polo shirts, and no expensive jewelry.

It had taken about two tries, but we’d hacked the system of blending into the crowd without drawing unwarranted attention to ourselves.

I spotted Arlene inside. She was wiping down the bar, her hair falling in loose waves around her face. She looked up, and our eyes met for a few seconds before she looked away.

Ethan nudged me. “Go on, Romeo. Just remember what I said.”

I nodded. “Sure.”

I headed to the bar and slipped into a seat, which was quickly becoming my usual spot.

“You’re back,” Arlene said in a monotone voice.

“I couldn’t stay away much longer.”

“You should. This place is unsafe for men like you,” she said, wiping a mug.

“Men like me? That sounds very offensive.”

“It sounds offensive to be a rich, purebred wolf who attended Oliver’s College scholarship-free, play tennis at Johnson’s with perfect little girls and their perfect little skirts, and end the night at Riley’s with expensive wine and caviar?” she said as she slid a beer over to me.

My finger rounded the rim of the glass, my eyes on her. “Wow, that was a spot-on read.”

She smiled. “And then one night you discover that there’s a world beyond your million-dollar mansions and annoyingly privileged life, and then you become infatuated with a bar waitress because you think she ‘sees’ you, and when the serotonin dies down and the high fades, you look for the next person who can make you feel that way again.”

I was shocked, not just because of her directness, but because it was spot-on. “Wow, that’s pretty much me.”

She shrugged, proud of herself. “I know.”

I took a sip of my drink. “You’re perceptive.”

She leaned on the counter and faced me, her presence invading my territory as her scent filled my nostrils. It took everything in me not to reach out, taste her lips, and run my fingers through her hair.

“So what’s the real story?” she asked in a whisper, which made her even sexier.

I took another sip of the beer. Ethan was right; it tasted like urine. “There’s no real story. You have me figured out.”

Arlene shook her head. “I don’t believe you.”

I blinked at her. “You really should.”

Her dark eyebrows pulled together as her eyes searched mine. My self-control was hanging on by a thread. It was almost laughable that she made me feel this way.

“But I think there’s more to you.”

I tried to look as nonchalant as always. “There isn’t.”

“There is.”

I didn’t have the hidden depths she might have thought I did, and I hadn’t been lying when I said her read was pretty good. The only thing that went through my head was what she would look like lying on her back on my bed as I did questionable things to her. It wasn’t the most ideal thought, but it had been all I could think about for days on end.

“Fine.” I raised my hands in surrender, throwing caution to the wind. “There’s more.”

“I called it!”

I smiled at her almost childlike joy.

“I’m in love with you,” I said with the straightest face I could muster, trying not to c***k a smile.

Arlene reached out over the counter, breaking through a barrier she never had before. She grabbed me by my arm. Every single muscle in my body locked up, and heat traveled up my arm like flames were consuming me.

I stayed ramrod-straight in my seat as her laugh rang through the bar. She threw her head back, the sound coming from the pit of her stomach.

Our banter and bouncing off each other had been happening for the past few days. But it had always felt like I was a customer and she was the server. She was the actress, and I was in the audience watching her performance unfold, but never really being a part of it myself.

Now, she had broken the fourth wall, and I had no idea how to behave. Rather than feeling relieved, I was somewhat thrown off by her reaction. My stomach turned at her reaction toward the idea of me loving her.

It was absurd in real life, and we both knew this, but she didn’t have to make it as obvious as she did.

I plucked her fingers off my bicep one by one. “I don’t think it’s that hilarious.”

“Oh, but it is. I have zero chances with you, and I know men like you want…certain things from women.”

“And what do you think my wants are?” I asked, curious.

She faltered, and a look passed through her green eyes before I could tell what it was. “As much as I loved standing here and chitchatting with you, I need to work.”

“Or do you?” I slipped a wad of hundred dollar bills toward her and waited.

“What’s this?” she asked in the monotone voice that always made it hard to figure out what she was feeling.

“I’m buying your time.”

I waited for a frown, a gasp, or even a slap on the face at how crude I was for implying that her time was for sale, but Arlene did none of that. Instead, she took the money from me and slipped it into her apron.

“You have me for the next five minutes.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I can’t believe that worked.”

“It’s a lot of money, and you’re downtown. Of course it worked.”

I nodded. “Fair. So what about me being in love with you is laughable?”

She looked at me like I’d just said the dumbest thing in the world. “Come on, you just bought five minutes of my time for six hundred dollars.”

“Seven, actually.”

She smiled, which revealed sparkling white teeth, and pushed a strand of stray black hair behind her ear. “That is laughable.”

“I still don’t follow.”

She sighed. “I’m not blonde or purebred, I don’t even know the first rule of tennis⁠—”

“The player serving must stay behind the baseline,” I quipped.

She smiled and looked away, which made our conversation even hotter. “I have no idea what a baseline is.”

“You’ll probably know all about tennis by my fifth visit here.”

She nodded.