Masquerade

“No problem.” After putting out my cigarette, we go inside.

“I feel like getting out tonight.”

The way she says it makes me think there’s more to it than that. Maybe not that she feels like it, but she needs to. What the hell is my problem? Why do I think I suddenly know this girl? It’s not like I’ve ever tried to figure anyone out before. I’m not sure why it keeps happening with Bee.

Because she’s like me…

“I’m down to go to Lunar.” It’s not like I’d be doing anything except sitting in my apartment anyway.

“Yeah?” She stalls for a second. “We could do that. Have a beer or something.”

“Typical thing for people to do after work.”

“And like we said before, we both know there’s nothing more than that going on.”

I leave it at that. It doesn’t matter if we end up going or not. I don’t want to get into some big fucking conversation on if, why, or when we’ll go have a drink. Instead, I do a quick sweep of Masquerade. When I don’t find anything I missed while cleaning up, I tell Bee, “I’m going to go. I have some shit to take care of. Let me know if you wa

She nods. I make it to the door and pull it open before she speaks. “Maddox?”

“Yeah?” I don’t turn around to face her.

“Thanks.”

There’s more than one thing she could be thanking me for: the bird in the tattoo, cleaning up the shop, talking to her, or even some of the shit that went down in her office. But I wonder if it’s maybe a combination of all of them.

With a simple nod, I walk out, knowing both of us will do better without verbally acknowledging her gratitude.

* * *

Bee doesn’t call until 9:00 p.m. I change my shirt before heading toward Lunar. I’d already showered.

It doesn’t take me long to get there. I’m surprised to find Bee waiting outside for me. I figured she would have gone in.

She’s wearing this short black skirt and her shirt is another tank top, this one camo.

When I reach her, the stupidest fucking thing comes out of my mouth. “I don’t do anything more than T-shirts.” Anger then starts sizzling through me. Why the hell did I say that? It doesn’t matter what I wear and even if she did care, I don’t.

“Let me give you a hint, Maddox. When you look as good as you do, women don’t need you to wear anything more than a T-shirt. They’re hoping to get you out of it anyway.”

Her words throw water on the flames of my anger, but all they do is burn to life again, but this time blending with lust. I don’t say shit like “I don’t do anything more than T-shirts,” and knowing I did puts me on edge. Yet hearing her say she thinks I’m sexy too? It makes me want her again. “Let’s go inside.”

Since it’s not a weekend, there isn’t a line. Not that we would have to stand in one anyway. It doesn’t mean it’s not busy inside. The music is still loud, drunk people still everywhere, dancing, drinking, and looking for someone to take home.

It’s already getting old spending my nights here.

Trevor is behind the bar like always. He never takes a night off. It’s different than it is with his brother, who keeps to himself and only wants to get shit done. Trevor likes to be here because he never shuts up, and when he’s at Lunar, there’s always someone for him to talk to. Like when he let Bee in the Back Room. He’s the type who thinks shit like that is fu

The bar’s crowded when we walk up. Trevor and some other bartender I don’t really know are handing out drinks. Bee’s right by my side as we wait. It takes a few minutes before it clears out a little and we step up. Trevor makes his way right over to us.

“Corona with a lime?” He winks at Bee.

“Shot of tequila.” She winks right back.

“You’re breakin’ my heart, darlin’.”

“Pfft.” I cross my arms. What a fucking idiot.

They both ignore me, and she has to yell over the music. “What I drink depends on my mood and what my plans are.” I can’t help but wonder what her response means.

Trevor looks over at me. “Coors?”

I nod. When I drink, it’s only ever a beer or two.

Trevor pours her shot first and then hands me my bottle. We both watch as Bee shakes a little salt on her hand, licks it, downs the shot, and then sucks on a lime.

“Do that often?” I raise an eyebrow at her.

“Nope.” Leaning back on my barstool, I take a gulp of my beer. Trevor’s standing in front of us and it’s a

He laughs and holds up his hand. “I got you, man. My bad.” And then he walks down the bar.

“Idiot,” I mumble.

“He’s got you, huh?” Bee grins.

Even though I heard her, I lean close anyway. “What?” My mouth’s close to her ear, which puts her close to mine too.

I repeat what he said. “Just giving you shit, but somehow I think you know that.”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” I say, even closer to her than I was before, and then I back away.

Bee rolls her eyes, but I can see the smirk on her face. We sit there quietly for a few minutes, me drinking my beer while she sways her body to the music. Fucking A, this woman is trying to get to me, but I refuse to sleep with her again. It’s not going to happen. I’ve got a good thing going as her apprentice and I don’t want to ruin it. She already shakes me up too much as it is.

The other bartender heads our way and Bee orders another shot. I watch her take that one, too, watch her swallow, her lips as they close over the lime, wishing like hell I could feel that mouth on other parts of my body.

“Dance with me, Scratch.” Bee grabs my hand, but I shake my head.

“I don’t dance. Even if I did, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” My eyes are on her hard, showing her what I mean by that.

“You’re right. First guy I’ve ever met who thinks with the right head.”

“I don’t want to. Believe me, I really don’t fucking want to.”

“That’s my cue to go. I’ll be out there.” She nods toward the dance floor and starts to walk away. I down the rest of my beer as I watch her go.

“You’re a fucking idiot, Cross.” Trevor grabs my bottle, but I don’t reply.

Bee rolls her hips, her arms in the air as her body keeps perfect beat with the music. She’s all confidence out there, open and obviously enjoying herself in a way I’ve never seen her. Those walls aren’t up. She’s not hiding behind her veil or sarcasm—just losing herself in the song.

She’s out there forever, coming up for another shot before heading right back to the dance floor.

As she’s moving, some guy with a Mohawk slips behind her. My hands fist and my teeth grind together. Bee turns toward him and says something. He laughs, making my anger kick up another notch; then he holds up his hands, like he’s surrendering before taking a couple steps away.

She goes right back into dancing but Mohawk is still close behind her. Easing forward, I sit up straighter, my feet planted on the ground as I fight the urge to stand up and go over there. It’s not my business. She’s not mine and I don’t want her to be.

But what if he won’t leave her alone?

I don’t want to protect someone else.

It’s so much fucking pressure to be what other people need you to be. Especially when you fail at it over and over like I did. I tried so fucking hard for Laney, but she’s my sister. I don’t give a shit about anyone else.

When Mohawk turns back to her, trying to dance and grind against her ass, I push to my feet. Trevor grabs my arm.

“A woman like her doesn’t need to be protected. She’s only going to get pissed at you for trying.”

Jerking my arm away, I head toward Bee. Fuck what Trevor said or if he’s right. Fuck if Bee gets pissed at me or not, and fuck that stupid voice in my head telling me to back off. That I’ve dealt with too much of other people’s shit in my life. That there’s a hundred other guys in here who can step in so I don’t have to get involved. I’m not going to let any guy give her or anyone shit while I’m here.