Dirty Working Hero (Hard Working Hero 2)

“Yeah, I'm going to hang for a bit and finish my beer.”

“And you're sure you got the Chambers project under control? You don't need me to swing through and help at all? I'm not paying you to spend your day drooling.”

“I got it, I swear. You and Narissa have enough to do with those remodels. I got this back breaking labor thing down. I don't want you getting your nails dirty.”

Oliver slugs me in the arm. “Don't test me, I'll show up out of spite and finish what's left in record time.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, stop showing off and get the hell out of here.”

Narissa giggles as she says goodbye, and she and Oliver leave hand in hand. I watch them go, slightly jealous of what they share. There's something to yearn for when you see two people in love and you don't have that yourself.

I'm realizing that they have something I want. It's something you can't get when you're alone. You can't achieve it by yourself. It can only be found when you let someone else in to share your world.

I finish off my beer, tossing some money on the bar before heading to the bathroom. As I come back out, I spot a familiar face. Millie.

Millie's leaning over the bar, smiling and talking to the girl working. She points over her shoulder at the pool table, and the girl nods, grabbing her the square rack with the balls.

She looks pretty tonight, dressed slightly fancy, but not too high-fashion for this place. She's wearing thin spiked black heels with light blue skinny jeans, and a loosely fitted, red tank-top. Her hair is down and styled with a curl. A soft shade of pink highlights her cheeks, and her lips are shiny with gloss.

What is she doing here?

Sneaking up behind her as she sets the table, I say, “You a big pool player?”

Millie jumps slightly, rattled by me. “Oh my God, you scared me.” She takes a step back and smiles. “What are you doing here?”

“I was just having a drink with a few friends.”

“Oh,” she says, looking around behind my back. “Where are they?”

“They just left a few minutes ago, and I was about to head out too, but then I saw you. What are you doing here?”

“I'm waiting for my friend.” She crosses her arms, resting her hip against the table. “She should be here in a little bit.”

“Good, so I guess you'll need someone to keep you company until she gets here.”

“Is that right? You think I can't be alone?”

Smirking, I shake my head. “No, I never said.”

“You sure had a lot to say the other day.” Her lips purse as she drops her eyes to the table and rolls the cue ball on the felt top.

“Look, I'm sorry about that, I really am. I never meant to upset you or make you feel like I'm judging you, because I'm not.”

Her eyes jump back to mine. “Is this one of those apologies that really don't mean anything?”

“I'm serious. I had no right to say the things I did.” Placing my hand on my chest, my brows raise up high. “I'm not a fake person. When I say I'm sorry I mean it.”

“All right, I believe you then.” Millie stands up straight and walks past me to get a pool cue from the wall. Stepping back to the table, she finishes racking the balls, and leans against the cue. “You play?”

“I've dabbled.” I take a cue, grabbing the chalk and rubbing it on the tip. “You want to break?”

“Sure,” she says. Millie leans over, sticking her ass out as she lines up the tip with the cue ball. She strikes hard, breaking up the cluster of balls on the other side. “Hope you like the view, because I'm going to sink all of these, and leave you with no shot at all.”

“All right, so we got a smack talker here. Okay, if you're that good I won't complain at all, and I'll just enjoy my view.”

Millie giggles, bending over to take another shot. “You say that now, until you lose. Then you'll just complain that I distracted you. Maybe you'll shed a few tears and run off embarrassed.”

The ball falls into the pocket and she rounds the table, brushing her shoulder against mine. I can smell her perfume, the scent of roses and vanilla breezes by my face. She taps my arm with her cue, making me move so she can bend over in front of me.

“This isn't going to be a fair game, is it?”

“Why's that? Because you haven't even had the chance to take a shot yet?” Her cue skips across the ball and she misses. “Shit,” she says under breath.

“Shit is right. Now it's my turn,” I say with a smile.

She watches me cautiously, leaning against her cue as I dominate the table. I'm running the table, taking my time and tossing her playful smiles as I make each shot.