Perfectly Broken (8 page)

"Mister Donovan," I purred to him, hearing his answering chuckle before I ducked under the bar and tucked away my purse. The place was already packed and I was twenty minutes early for my shift
.
Shannon waved, motioning for me to jump right into the fray.

"How was your night off?" Nikki asked as she brushed past me, leaning back to grab a bottle from the spot on the higher shelf. I barely had to duck to get under her arm to take an order.

"Good," I yelled back as we passed each other again moments later. We were used to this, the chaos of working in one of the popular themed-bars on The Strip. I'd worked at plenty of bars but working here, for Shannon, was the best job I'd had.

"Did you give Zane a lap dance for his birthday like I told you to?" Nikki nudged me with her elbow and I spun a bottle in my right hand before pouring the drink I was working on.

"Right. Because that would've ended well," I answered with a laugh and shook my head. "No
,
but I did actually dance with him. His ex-wife showed up and caused a huge scene. It was kind of a mess."

Nikki shook her head and glanced over at me before pulling out two beers and passing them back to the customer she was helping. "I don't know why you two don't just fuck and get it over with already." I threw a bar rag at her and she laughed again, glancing at the clock beside the register.

"Trust me
,
Nik,
that
is never going to happen," I said over my shoulder as I passed her.

"Well, if you're not going to fuck the hotness monster, I'm totally going for it next time I see him." Nikki winked as she stopped directly beside me to take an order.

"That'll never happen either!" I laughed at Nikki's shocked expression. "First of all, you seem to be forgetting that Zane doesn't do locals."

"Details." She waved a hand dismissively as she finished filling a glass, nearly sloshing whiskey all over the bar.

"Second, I made him promise not to fuck anyone I work with."

Nikki slammed the bottle into place
.
Ignoring the customers momentarily
,
she spread her arms in a gesture that clearly said ‘what the fuck’. "Why? Why would you twat block me like that?"

I tried not to laugh
,
but I couldn't help it
.
I heard Nikki mumble under her breath as I turned to take a few more orders
.

"Sorry, but you're a double no for him. You'll have to find a new hotness monster." I passed her the vodka, noticing the bottle was almost empty. "By the way, he doesn't really count as a hotness monster if we know how to find him."

"Whatever. He was my favorite hotness monster
,
" she sighed in faux dismay. I rolled my eyes and reached for the Grey Goose bottle on the top shelf, hissing as I stretched my still tender side.

"How did the tat turn out?" Shannon slid over beside me and pulled down the bottle I was reaching for. I smiled gratefully and twisted off the spout from the empty bottle to change it over.

"Amazing. Like I've said every time, Kas is a rock star with a needle."

I took the bottle over to finish making the three drinks for the college age girls in their stilettos. They watched me, sizing me up as I passed them their drinks before moving to the end of the bar.

"It's time. Do you want to pour or collect?" Nikki asked as she grabbed the bottle and moved toward the step.

"Collect." I grabbed the bucket and the whistle and climbed onto the bar beside her, positioning the bucket between my feet before blowing the whistle to catch the attention of all the patrons around the bar.

"Shoooooots!" she called, drawing out the 'o'. The hoots began. I collected the money as the line formed at the bar and they took turns leaning their head back for Nikki to pour the liquor into their mouths.

"Lili?" a voice asked as I hopped off the bar after several long minutes of the glassless shots. I spun toward the voice and saw a guy who looked only a few years older than me. His blue eyes were bright in the dimness of the bar and his blonde hair was cut short. He wasn't tall, not by normal standards anyway, but he was still a good six inches or so taller than my five foot one.

I glanced down at the name tag attached to my tank top pointedly. Liliosa was spelled out in bold black letters and underneath it said Asheville, NC. I glanced back up at the guy and raised an eyebrow.

"Lili, huh? Do I know you?" I felt defensive after the incident with Patrick
.
I set the bucket down behind the bar, grabbing the bills and starting to sort them. No one called me Lili except people who knew me.

"Uhhh…" he trailed off, looking embarrassed, “I’m sorry. I'm Jordan. We met last night. You told me you worked here and said I should come by sometime while I was still in town."

I stopped what I was doing and looked up at him again, letting the bills fall back into the bucket. He smiled nervously and I could still see the embarrassment in his eyes. Fuck. Had I seriously been so drunk I told a random guy where I worked? Had I hooked up with him? How many more were there?

"Oh," I simply said, reaching down to gather the bills again before straightening and leaning against the bar. "I'm sorry. Last night was… well, I was seriously wasted. I normally don't drink that much and my memory is a little hazy
,
" I admitted, feeling shame for the first time in a very long time. Shame was not an emotion I dealt with well and it made me almost pissed off at this Jordan person as well as Patrick. What the fuck had I done?

"I remember. That was why I came here, actually. I mean, I would've come just to see you
,
but I really wanted to check on you. You were pretty trashed when I put you in that cab." He sounded genuinely concerned and I went back to arranging the bills, trying to avoid his eyes.

"So
,
what exactly happened before you put me in the cab, Jordan?" I asked, hating that I had to ask. He was quiet and I glanced up at him, taking in his confused expression. His eyes widened in understanding and he shook his head.

"No. Nothing like that. It was just… you were hanging out with some of my buddies that I'm here on leave with and things were starting to get a bit too rowdy. I got worried that you weren't in the right state of mind and I offered to get you a cab, just to get you away from them," he said, sounding a little mortified at my assumption. "While we were waiting for the cab outside, you told me where you worked and that I should stop by some time. That's all. I swear." I nodded slowly, his words striking a cord of memory. Small glimpses were coming back.

"Is Patrick one of those buddies?" I asked, still seething about the conversation from earlier.

Jordan looked shocked for a moment and nodded. "Yeah. He's… well, they were trying to get you to… he's never…" Jordan's entire face turned red and more of the night came back to me
.

I was drinking with a group of about six guys. They were doing shots with me and one of the guys, Patrick, was a virgin. They were making fun of him because he'd never been with a woman
,
at all. His girlfriend from school was Mormon and he was
,
too
.
The most they'd ever done was hold hands. His buddies were trying to get me to blow him in the bathroom.
 

Jordan came over and it pissed them off because he had called me a cab. He got the bartender to back him so his buddies would leave me alone while he walked me outside.

"You were the one sitting in the booth by yourself. I remember now. I'm sorry about that." I smiled and heard Shannon call my name from the other side of the bar. "Have a seat and I'll be around when I can." Jordan looked relieved as he slid onto the stool. I headed back to work.

"It's really kind of cool watching you work."

The voice startled me as I stepped out onto the street after closing. Donovan eyed Jordan until I waved him away, letting him know I was good
.
He paused for a moment before shutting the door behind me.

"I can't believe you stayed." I laughed, walking up beside him as I dug in my purse, hoping I could find a hair tie. I was exhausted, even more so than normal due to last night’s events. It was almost as if I had an ache for every drink I'd consumed.

"Of course I did. I was hoping we could go somewhere. I mean, I don't know Vegas very well
,
but somewhere we could talk?" It came out like a question. His eyes met mine briefly before flicking away, his face taking on that same embarrassed expression from earlier.

Most of the time, the shy boys like Jordan, the ones who weren't as confident even though they were gorgeous and had every right to be, annoyed the hell out of me. But
,
there was something about him that was different. Maybe it was just that he rescued me when I put myself in a bad situation.

"I'd like that," I said. "I owe you at least that much as a thank you for being such a gentleman." The blood that rushed to his cheeks was visible even on the darkened street. "Come on, I know the perfect place." I gestured toward the end of the block. He held out an arm, making a show of acting like a gentleman.

"May I escort the stunning lady?" he asked with a chuckle.

I couldn't help but smirk. "You may," I replied with a slight nod of my head in the direction we were going to head.

Billy's was a hole in the wall all-night diner that was a staple for the locals. They always had fresh coffee and I had a major craving for cinnamon apple pancakes.

While we walked the few blocks to the diner, Jordan graciously answered all my questions as I did my best to keep the conversation on him.

"So, why the Marines?" I asked as I nodded to the front door of Billy's. Jordan released my arm to jog ahead, opening the door. As he placed his hand on the small of my back to guide me through, his fingers grazed along the edge of my tattoo. I made a face as it reminded me just how sensitive the skin of my right side was.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked. The concern in his eyes was adorable. I shook my head and peered around the diner. Seeing that my favorite booth in the corner wasn't occupied
,
I led him toward it
.

"No. I got a tattoo this afternoon. Well, actually, I got the color added to a tattoo," I explained as I slid in with my back to the wall so I could see the entire room.

Jordan cocked his head to the side as he took the seat across from me. "How many tattoos do you have?"

I pursed my lips as I did a mental count. "Six, I think."

He laughed, pulling a menu from behind the napkin dispenser to look it over. "How do you not know?" His question didn't surprise me in the slightest
.
My tattoos were all very personal to me and it took a lot to keep my discomfort in talking about this with him from showing in my expression.

"It just depends on how I'm counting them. Some of them are in multiple places
,
but to me they still count as one," I tried to explain but I knew I was probably confusing him further. He didn't say anything else about the tattoos as we ordered our food
.
As soon as the server left our table, his eyes began to roam my forearms.

Jordan gestured to the swirling lines of script. "I was going to ask about the quote. It took me a while to piece together what it said. Is there a reason behind the placement?"

I crossed my arms over my chest in a gesture I used all too often. I was a naturally defensive person and given my small size, I was often perceived as weak. Therefore, I spent a lot of time proving the opposite. With my arms crossed this way, the tattoo lined up perfectly along the outer edge of my forearms.

"Shakespeare.
A Midsummer Night's Dream
, specifically," I explained, uncrossing my arms as I reached for the coffee mug our server just placed on the table
.

"Is that the one about the fairies?" Jordan asked, seeming confused as he added creamer to his own coffee before glancing up at me.

"Yeah. It's a long story that involves my roommate and a nickname he started," I said, flipping my wrist to make a gesture that it wasn't important.

"What's the nickname?" Jordan leaned forward, his arms resting on the edge of the table as his eyebrows raised.

"Uh, no. He's the only one that can get away with calling me that and it's only because I've tried to stop him and it's impossible. Zane is relentless."
 

"Fair enough. I'm guessing this is the same Zane you were talking about last night?" he asked.

I leaned back in the booth, making a face at the mention of another moment I couldn't recall. "That depends. What did I say about him?" I asked hesitantly. Given the way my emotions were all over the place when I left Lust, I couldn't imagine what I might have said. I reached behind me and tugged on my ponytail with both hands, nervously tightening the elastic band.

"You were just complaining about him and his wife or something," Jordan said with a shrug.

I looked up as our food arrived, my appetite suppressed by the lump in my throat that felt about the size of a softball.

"His ex-wife. And
,
yeah, that would be him," I said in a tone I hoped he would understand meant I was done discussing this. I took a bite of my pancakes and Jordan stayed quiet for a few minutes before returning to our previous conversation.

"So
,
what about the new tattoo on your side? Is there a story behind it?" he asked finally. I gave him a wry smile.

"All my tattoos have a story," I answered as I flagged down our server for more coffee. "The one on my side is tiger lilies
,
my favorite flower. They symbolize feminine strength."

"I'm sensing a pattern here," Jordan said, laughing as he slid his empty plate to the edge of the table.

"Possibly," I conceded, leaning back in the booth as the server cleared our plates and refilled our coffee.

As we talked, I found myself laughing more and more. His shy attempts at flirting were precious and I realized I'd never spent any significant time with a guy people would consider a "nice guy"
.
Normally, I found the guys who were only after one thing, which was fine because it's what I was after
,
too
.
But
,
there was something about Jordan that seemed to be drawing me in like a magnetic pull.