martini to cool off.
"Doing it where you might get caught any minute," Cam murmured as he rubbed a rag round and round in the same spot on the bar. Shit, could he tell what she was thinking? "The danger makes it even hotter."
Layla had just taken another mouthful of her drink when Cam leaned in toward her. "Haven't you ever had public sex, little Layla?"
She choked, the alcohol burning as it went down the wrong way. It wasn't quite a spit take, but came close.
Cam's teasing expression turned instantly into one of concern. "You all right? Take it easy, there."
She coughed and shrank away when he made to pat her back. She was worked up enough without him touching her. "I'm good, thanks. I'm fine." Tears sprang from her eyes.
He frowned. "You don't look fine." A moment later he placed a glass of water in front of her. "Drink some of this."
She wheezed, picking up the glass. "Thanks."
He watched her take a sip. "Better?"
She cleared her throat, wiped the tears from her cheeks. "Yes. Thanks."
"So, Layla." He picked up the bar rag and tossed it somewhere out of sight. "You don't know about your friend's reputation?"
"What do you mean, 'reputation'?"
"She's practically famous among the local bartenders. She sees one she likes, hits on him, they get busy." He shrugged like it was old news. "Guess it's my turn."
Layla twisted her lips into a frown. "And you wouldn't dream of turning her down, of course."
Cam glanced at her, honestly puzzled. "Why would I do that?"
Why indeed? What red-blooded man in his right mind would refuse Jessi Wallace offering herself on a silver platter?
What's wrong, girl? You jealous? Wish it could be you instead of Jessi?
Yeah. Maybe she was. Maybe she did.
"Practically famous, huh?" The rim of the water glass clinked against Layla's teeth.
"Hey, guys talk, you know," Cam said. "I'm friends with a few other bartenders, word gets around. She's hit most of the spots along Elmwood. This one must be next on the list. Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, she walks into mine."
" Casablanca ," Layla answered automatically.
Cam's eyebrows lifted. "You know it."
"Hello. Only the most romantic movie ever filmed. Everyone knows it."
"You'd be surprised."
Jessi was outraged. How could anyone not know Casablanca ? If this were a black-and-white film and Cam were wearing a white jacket and smoking a cigarette, he could be Rick. And Layla, in red lipstick and a mysterious veil hiding her face, would be Ilsa.
"It's only ever a one-time thing, from what I hear," Cam said.
His voice pulled Layla out of her fantasy. "Excuse me?"
"Your friend. Jessi. She likes to hit it and quit it. That's the word, anyway."
Oh. They were back to that. "Whatever." Layla's tone was flat. She wasn't into slut-shaming and didn't judge, or particularly care, what Jessi did in her free time.
She just didn't like the thought of her doing it with this bartender.
Sure, Layla. Like you'd ever stand a chance with him.
She'd had boyfriends and they'd been nice guys. Sweet, kind, smart. But none of them had been hot . Like Cam.
She couldn't ever expect to be with a guy like Cam, even in her wildest dreams. Because she wasn't like Jessi. Layla Messner simply was not a hot chick.
Climbing down from the bar stool, she murmured, "Think I'll freshen up a bit myself."
Jessi stood at the mirror, fluffing her hair, and barely glanced at Layla when she entered the ladies' room. "Has his break started yet?"
"Soon, I guess."
"Cool." Jessi pulled a lip wand out of her bag and began to apply a pink shimmer to her lower lip. "Listen, you don't mind getting home on your own, do you?"
Demoted from wingwoman to third wheel, just like that. Though the walk to their complex wasn't far, it annoyed Layla to be so rudely dumped. "So I'm supposed to just—"
"See, if everything goes the way I think it will with Cam-a-licious out there, I'll just hang around 'til closing and go home with him."
Layla had a feeling Cam
"Doing it where you might get caught any minute," Cam murmured as he rubbed a rag round and round in the same spot on the bar. Shit, could he tell what she was thinking? "The danger makes it even hotter."
Layla had just taken another mouthful of her drink when Cam leaned in toward her. "Haven't you ever had public sex, little Layla?"
She choked, the alcohol burning as it went down the wrong way. It wasn't quite a spit take, but came close.
Cam's teasing expression turned instantly into one of concern. "You all right? Take it easy, there."
She coughed and shrank away when he made to pat her back. She was worked up enough without him touching her. "I'm good, thanks. I'm fine." Tears sprang from her eyes.
He frowned. "You don't look fine." A moment later he placed a glass of water in front of her. "Drink some of this."
She wheezed, picking up the glass. "Thanks."
He watched her take a sip. "Better?"
She cleared her throat, wiped the tears from her cheeks. "Yes. Thanks."
"So, Layla." He picked up the bar rag and tossed it somewhere out of sight. "You don't know about your friend's reputation?"
"What do you mean, 'reputation'?"
"She's practically famous among the local bartenders. She sees one she likes, hits on him, they get busy." He shrugged like it was old news. "Guess it's my turn."
Layla twisted her lips into a frown. "And you wouldn't dream of turning her down, of course."
Cam glanced at her, honestly puzzled. "Why would I do that?"
Why indeed? What red-blooded man in his right mind would refuse Jessi Wallace offering herself on a silver platter?
What's wrong, girl? You jealous? Wish it could be you instead of Jessi?
Yeah. Maybe she was. Maybe she did.
"Practically famous, huh?" The rim of the water glass clinked against Layla's teeth.
"Hey, guys talk, you know," Cam said. "I'm friends with a few other bartenders, word gets around. She's hit most of the spots along Elmwood. This one must be next on the list. Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, she walks into mine."
" Casablanca ," Layla answered automatically.
Cam's eyebrows lifted. "You know it."
"Hello. Only the most romantic movie ever filmed. Everyone knows it."
"You'd be surprised."
Jessi was outraged. How could anyone not know Casablanca ? If this were a black-and-white film and Cam were wearing a white jacket and smoking a cigarette, he could be Rick. And Layla, in red lipstick and a mysterious veil hiding her face, would be Ilsa.
"It's only ever a one-time thing, from what I hear," Cam said.
His voice pulled Layla out of her fantasy. "Excuse me?"
"Your friend. Jessi. She likes to hit it and quit it. That's the word, anyway."
Oh. They were back to that. "Whatever." Layla's tone was flat. She wasn't into slut-shaming and didn't judge, or particularly care, what Jessi did in her free time.
She just didn't like the thought of her doing it with this bartender.
Sure, Layla. Like you'd ever stand a chance with him.
She'd had boyfriends and they'd been nice guys. Sweet, kind, smart. But none of them had been hot . Like Cam.
She couldn't ever expect to be with a guy like Cam, even in her wildest dreams. Because she wasn't like Jessi. Layla Messner simply was not a hot chick.
Climbing down from the bar stool, she murmured, "Think I'll freshen up a bit myself."
Jessi stood at the mirror, fluffing her hair, and barely glanced at Layla when she entered the ladies' room. "Has his break started yet?"
"Soon, I guess."
"Cool." Jessi pulled a lip wand out of her bag and began to apply a pink shimmer to her lower lip. "Listen, you don't mind getting home on your own, do you?"
Demoted from wingwoman to third wheel, just like that. Though the walk to their complex wasn't far, it annoyed Layla to be so rudely dumped. "So I'm supposed to just—"
"See, if everything goes the way I think it will with Cam-a-licious out there, I'll just hang around 'til closing and go home with him."
Layla had a feeling Cam
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