Frozen

Chapter 3)

Barney

Barney ran his eyes over the same line of text from the report for the fifth time before realizing he didn't have a damned clue what he was reading. He huffed and leaned back in the chair, vaguely noting that his desk needed to be organized, as in desperately. From the corner of his eye he saw a piece of paper and he reached out and grabbed it, thinking it was probably important because Hazel wrote it in red pen.

Get Brianna to fill out-don't stare at her ass

Barney chuckled and shook his head. He made the mistake of telling Hazel about Brianna and he might've gone into a little too much detail. He crumpled up the note and tossed it on the floor, scanning the page. It was basic employee information.

Barney rolled his eyes at himself. He was such a dumbass offering a complete stranger a job just because he wanted to bang her. Lordy, did he want to bang her, though. All legs and tits and...She walked back into the room, almost shyly if it weren't for the little smirk on her face. She looked good and the little sex vixen damn well knew it. Barney let his eyes go on a journey starting at her dainty feet, probably the only dainty thing about her, up her long toned legs, rounding the curve of her ass and hips perfectly highlighted in that skin tight dress, over her tits which, he noticed, were fucking perfect, he lingered for a moment on the slope of her shoulder because for some reason that was the place that his brain chose to remind him how easy strapless dresses were to take off. When he made it to her face and he saw the smug expression, his eyes narrowed and he moved to get up.

"It'll do," he said nonchalantly.

She chuckled huskily and he immediately sat back down. She raised an eyebrow so he opened a drawer and pulled out...a calculator. Sure, he could work with that. Better than standing up and giving her full fledged evidence to be smug about standing loud and proud, front and center. He grabbed a pencil that way laying somewhere and started writing down some numbers and shit on a random piece of paper before punching them into a calculator. A few seconds later he looked up to see her staring at him like she wasn't sure whether to ask if he was okay or laugh. He decided the best course of action would be to pretend he had forgotten she was there.

"Oh, um, this..." he searched his desk for the paper that had been in his hands less than a minute before. When he found it, he awarded himself with a winning smile. He looked up to hand it to her and noticed her gaze locked on his mouth. He deliberately let his grin widen. Who had the upper hand now, huh, vixen? "This is for you to fill out and return to me. It's just basic information, who to contact if you die or something."

He noticed her face harden into stone but for the sake of both their sanities pretended not to. He didn't want to get too involved. Emotions equaled for awkward, messy morning afters.

"If that's all, then I'm going to get to work, Mr. Westchester," she said in a toneless, infliction-less voice.

"That's all," he matched her voice to a tee.

As she was walking out, he thought he heard her mutter 'Fan-fucking-tastic' sarcastically, but decided that it must have been his imagination.

Brianna

I gave the man, Steve I think, a smile and grabbed his empty glass.

"Grey Goose, on the rocks," I stated, letting my lips curve into a more seductive manner. As the night went on, I learned each one of those smiles was at least five more bucks on my tip.

"Correct," he said, letting his gaze shoot to my lips for a few seconds before going back to my eyes. Well, you had to give the guy props for trying.

"I'll be right back with that, sir," I said, also nabbing the empty basket that had previously contained rolls and walking out the door, down the stairwell, and to the bar. I handed the bartender, Misha, the basket, which he immediately tossed underneath, and I slid the glass over.

"Grey Goose, rocks," I semi-shouted after leaning in close to his ear. Misha nodded to let me know he understood and swiftly got the drink and brought it back to me. He slid it over with a wink, which I returned with a small smile and walked away. I was almost to the stairwell when a hand curled around my elbow, not violently, but not exactly gently either.

"What do you think you're doing?" a silky southern accent asked stonily in my ear. My eyebrows shot up and I turned my head infinitesimally so that I could see him out o the corner of my eyes.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, ignoring the shivers racing up my arms from his touch.

"I'm talking about Misha. Coworker relationships are absolutely prohibited," Barney stated through clenched teeth. My eyebrow got impossibly higher and this time I leaned back a little so I could get a good look at him. His jaw was set and his baby blues were stony and cold.

"Again I ask, because you're making no sense, what are you talking about?" I repeated.

"I saw you gettin' up close to give him the order, I saw him winkin' at you," Barney drawled, his tone mocking, his eyes getting even harder, "and I'm saying it's against the rules. Also, no messin' around with the customers on the job."

This time my head actually tilted forward and to the side a little.

"Are you nuts?" I screeched.

"There are cameras everywhere, baby, and I see those hot little smiles you're giving 'em."

"Tips, Barney. As fun as it's been so far being your employee, I work for money," I said. I pulled my arm from his grasp and took a step back. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to get my customer his order so he tips me well."