The Bartender (Sanguine Hearts Book 1)

3 Until It Wasn't

Grayson casually watched the raven-haired beauty as she moved around her bar. She was extremely good at managing the bar and the flow of customers. She was fast and efficient while taking and filling orders. Often she would have a glass in hand before the customer even made their request. Her movements were graceful and smooth. When she was flirted with, she flirted back with a general disinterest that the other party somehow missed. He hid his interest in her by only allowing himself small quick glimpses of her in the mirror behind the bar. He’d often find himself staring for much longer than he should if he hopped to keep his interest hidden much longer. He could not fool himself into thinking that his interest in her would go unnoticed forever. He’d give himself away sooner or later. He could not hide what he was feeling. He could never completely hide his emotions. He could mask them, but he first had to understand what they were. He didn’t understand the emotions she made him feel. She’s a human. How could he feel for her what it seemed he was feeling? It was new. It was unusual. It was more confusing than anything he’d ever felt for anyone else in his long life. He wanted, no he needed to hide the way he was feeling about her, but he could not hide these new emotions. He spent the evening watching her when she wasn’t watching him and regretted not asking her name. It would have been the proper thing to do even though he didn’t need to, he knew it.

He had noticed her before. Her beauty was unparalleled. He hadn’t noticed her quite as much as he did the night he looked into her eyes. There was something about her that he couldn’t explain. Something about them; those eyes. Something in her brilliant deep green eyes and her raven hair caused a stir of an echo in him. It was pleasant, oddly comforting, and yet frightening to him. He never expected to feel the way he felt about anyone, let alone a human and one he’d never met. It was surprising. He couldn’t get her out of his mind. She was always there. He wondered what it would be like to know her. Would she let him? She never let anyone close to her. She was professional, closed off, and reserved with her customers but open and friendly with her co-workers. He wanted to talk to her. He knew he did but he was unusually honest with himself where she was concerned. Would she even talk to him? Would she refuse him? He was afraid that she would dismiss him the same indifferent way that she dismissed all the other customers because, at the end of the night, that was all that he was to her, a customer.

He wanted so much to talk to her, but he was afraid of her rejection. He’d seen the look of displeasure on her lovely face more than once when he dared to glance at her as some other random needy female saddled on up to him at the end of her bar seeking something he would never give them. He felt her disgust and then disappointment radiating off her. Maybe there was hope, but for once, he let his fear hold him. So, he watched her. He looked at her whenever she wasn't looking at him. He tuned into her energy, listened to her heartbeat, and gave her more of his attention than he did anyone in the room. He watched her movements and noted her clothing. She watched him more than he knew. Her eyes would glance a mere second before he would turn his eyes to her. She was far more aware of him than she cared to admit to herself. She told herself that he was too cavalier with himself, too arrogant, too anything not good, and above all; a customer. Anything to convince herself that she should not be interested in him. None of it worked or helped at all. He was perpetually on her mind.

They spent many nights at Bey Luna Beatz stealing glances at each other when the other wasn’t looking, happily aware of the other’s overwhelming presence. It was a game commonly played by two people who were clearly interested in each other but weren't ready to face that attraction. It was a classic game of cat and mouse. The question was, who was the cat and who was the mouse?

She was a vision, beautiful as always, and blissfully oblivious to her beauty. She was truly completely unaware. He found the modesty enchanting. Such humility was a trait only truly beautiful people possessed. She had it in spades. It was alluring and only served to draw him in deeper. She had her long dark hair pulled up in a loose bun with the ends of her hair sticking out to form a circle of black spikes all around the base of the bun. She had taken several strands, just a small cluster on either side of center, where her bangs would have been if she had them and pulled them loose from the rest. As a result, two long tendrils curled down on either side of her perfect face.

She wore all black, which he honestly appreciated very much. She seemed to wear it every night. Everyone that worked in the club did. The Bey Luna Beatz uniform wasn’t a uniform per se. All employees wore black. Some would accent with a small pop of dark color, bouncers wore black staff shirts and black jeans and boots. Ariel always wore just black. Grayson watched her as she filled order after order while he sat, gently sipping his Scotch. She moved with sheer elegance and smiled graciously at each customer as they made and received their requests.

Her black top left her arms exposed. They were smooth and strong. The well-formed muscles of her shoulders and biceps were nicely defined. He enjoyed watching them play under her pale skin as she moved. He didn’t need to imagine that others did too. Countless were not cautious with their thoughts regarding her and her appearance. Many of them had him fighting to control his anger and prevent his growls from escaping his chest. The back of her shirt was open leaving even more of her skin exposed down to the top of her form-fitting black slacks. It left more muscles for him and others to watch. The black of her clothing created a strong contrast to her pale skin. Her skin seemed to glow in the light of the club. He couldn’t help but watch her and admire the way her clothes fit over her alluring shape. Many sets of eyes did. Everywhere he looked, someone was watching her work. It had been a long time since he felt the pull of a woman on any part of him, a long time since he cared enough to look past the makeup and the perfume. She pulled him, all of him.

When a beautiful woman sat beside him, he set aside his brief annoyance at the interruption and gave her his full attention per usual. At the night's end, it was clear that he was expected to take the woman home. He politely refused and quietly excused himself from the conversation.