Cross My Hart and Hope to Die

Chapter 1

I wanted to take my steel-toed boot and cram it down the creep's throat as he waited for his drink.

"You know... you would never have to work in a place like this again." He reached out to stroke my arm as I handed him his shot of whiskey. I gave him a tight smile and stepped away before his hand made contact.

"I like my job. In fact, I think another customer needs me. Enjoy your drink." My jaw pulsed as I ground my teeth together.

The worst part about working in a bar were the old creeps who thought it was okay to hit on younger women. It infuriated me, but I had been in far worse situations growing up. I walked to the end of the dimly lit bar. We had a scatter of patrons throughout the place. A few were in the corner playing pool, but I didn't wait on them. That was Angel's job. And yes, that's her real name.

She's a short and curvy blonde with big doe eyes. On slow nights like these, she makes more than I do. But that doesn't bother me. I stay behind the bar. It's my area and my zone. It's for protection. Not for me but our customers.

A couple of young guys around my age flag me down at the end. I make my way to them slowly, trying to determine if they're of legal drinking age. One was blond, his hair would be to his chin if it wasn't slicked back. There was no gel or hairspray. It was as if he had trained his hair to stay back.

He was built like a football player. His biceps bulged out of his polo. I watched as his large hand reached up and swiped his hair back. So that's how it stays put. I met his ocean colored eyes, blue with a touch of green in them. He was staring at me as much as I was staring at him. The corner of his mouth tipped up as our eyes met. I didn't flinch away, not embarrassed in the least at having been caught.

My eyes turned to his friend. All I could see was the back of a head as his friend watched Angel cross the room. I rolled my eyes at the cliche.

"What can I do for you, boys?" I stood in front and placed my hand on the bar. His friend finally turned around. He had a frat boy look going on. They both did, really. Not seeing me as interesting, he turned back to Angel. I lifted an eyebrow at the blond.

"I'd like a jack and coke, please." He had his ID out and ready. I picked it up and examined it. His name was Ryder Johnson. He was 6'2 and only a year older than me, 23.

I gave his card back and quickly made his drink. After setting it down, I started washing glasses.

"Did you forget about me?" His friend had an almost whiney tone to his voice.

"No. I didn't forget about you. I chose to ignore you the way you ignored me in favor of staring at my coworker's ass." I raised my eyes to meet his, but instead, I caught Ryder's blue ones. He was hiding a smile behind his drink.

"What? You can't speak to me that way!" The friend had jumped off his stool, almost toppling it down.

"If you have a problem, go speak to my boss." I waved my hand in the direction of where my boss sat at a table looking over papers for stocking up on alcohol.

The plain looking friend went to stomp over to my boss, but Ryder grabbed his friend's arm. "Since this one isn't nice enough to serve you, why don't you go ask that blonde. You've been eyeing her since we came in, Ethan. Maybe you could use this as a way to ask for her number."

Ethan furrowed his eyebrows at Ryder for a second before nodding his head and wandering off. Ryder turned and grinned at me. "This is where you say thank you."

"I couldn't care less." I turned my back on the blonde stranger and walked to where the creep was. He had finally finished his drink and was flagging me down for another.