Southern Secrets (Southern 7)

"Let me know if you need anything else," I say and turn to go back to serving people.

I turn and see a group of six girls sitting at the end of the bar. "What can I get you?" I stretch my arms on the side and hold on to the bar.

"That is a loaded question," one of the blondes says, leaning into the bar. Her top is riding just a touch too low. "What’s your specialty?"

"Beer," I say, and she laughs while the brunette cuts in.

"I’ll have a beer with a blowjob on the side." She winks at me, and my face almost grimaces.

"Oh, I’ll do a blowjob also," the other blonde says.

"Six blowjobs," the blonde says. "I’m Amanda."

I force a smile on my face. "I’ll be right back." Turning and grabbing six shot glasses, I line them up in front of them. I walk over to Amelia, who is pouring a whiskey. "Do you have whipped cream?" I ask, and she looks over at me.

"Does this look like a place that has whipped cream?" She laughs. "Why?"

"They want blowjob shots." I motion with my head toward the girls. She throws her head back and laughs.

"Like those girls swallow." She laughs, and for the second time tonight, I’m left speechless.

"That’s a no, then," I say, trying to hide my smirk.

"They are just going to have to swallow without the cream." She smiles sweetly.

"Okay, boss." I grab the Baileys and go back to the glasses. "Ladies, no whipped cream." I look at them. "Do you still want them?"

"Sure," the brunette says. I pour the Kahlua first and then top it with Baileys. "Aren’t you doing a shot with us?"

"I can’t drink on the job," I say. "That’ll be thirty dollars."

The blonde takes a fifty out of her purse. "Keep the change." I nod my head and turn around, putting the money in the till.

"Twenty-dollar tip for six shots?" Amelia asks when I put a twenty in the tip jar, and I ignore her.

"Guess they have money to spare." I look over and serve two more ladies who smile at me.

"Cowboy," the blonde from before calls me over. I don’t want to go, and I almost ask Amelia to take my place, but she’s serving drinks at the other end.

"What can I get you guys?" I ask, and the blonde leans onto the bar.

"You're a cowboy, right?" she asks, and I tilt my head, reminding myself that if I’m rude, then they won't come back, and if they don’t come back, Amelia makes less money.

"Why do you think I’m a cowboy?" I ask.

"Well, for one, you're hot," the brunette says. "And your arms are nice and tanned."

"If you live around here or work around here, you’re a cowboy," one of the other girls says. "I’ll take a whiskey sour." I look at the other girls, who nod. "Six whiskey sours." I make their drinks in front of them and collect the money. I learned a long time ago never to leave someone with a tab running unless you know where they live.

"So tell us, Cowboy, do you have a name?" the blonde asks me again.

"Cowboy is good," I say and try to move away from her when she puts her hand on mine. I look down at her hand on mine and then hear someone clear their throat beside me.

"Sorry, I need the whiskey," Amelia says, and I move out of the way and out of reach from the blonde.

She grabs the bottle from the bar and then looks at me. "We got this covered," she says. "You can go and sit with your friends." She motions with her chin, and I just stare at her when she turns and walks away from me.

Chapter 12

Amelia

"We got this covered," I say, irritated with myself for caring that those women were throwing themselves at him. "You can go and sit with your friends." I motion with my chin toward the girls who look like they are dry humping my bar.

I turn to walk away from him, and I’m stopped when he puts his hand on my arm. I look down, seeing his fingers wrapped around my upper arm. I look over at him and the lump in my throat suddenly appears.

I haven’t seen him all week long, and even if I didn’t want to admit it, it bothers me not knowing where he was all day. Of course, I refused to ask anyone about it. Then every night, my head would automatically turn toward the front when I would hear the door open, and I would kick myself.

Then tonight when I’m finally not thinking about him, he shows up looking so much better than he did in my head. His blue jeans hang on his hips with a brown belt, the black shirt tucked into the front with two buttons open at the collar. His arms are nice and bronzed, his eyes a light brown as he smiled at me. I couldn’t help the smile that came out of me. "Hey, hey, hey." I hear Chelsea say and turn to look at her and Willow standing there. "Look at this place."