bartenders to the back to get some mint leaves and completely forgotten about him while making the fifteen martinis that had been ordered and having Jag strut up to the bar.
“Yeah, yeah.” I grabbed the mint that had been laid down for me, crammed it in a cup, and angrily muddled it.
I’d just finished shaking up the stupid drink when shouting erupted from the crowd. I looked over and saw Jag’s fist repeatedly smashing into the guy’s face. He looked like a beast that had been unleashed. The guy kept trying to block Jag, but Jag just kept slamming his fist into the side of the guy’s head.
“Holy shit!” Drew, another bartender, grabbed me. “I think he’s beating that guy up because he called you a bitch.”
“What?”
“Yeah, he told the guy no one could talk to you like that.”
“Oh, my God.” I grabbed the soda gun and hopped up on the bar top. Aiming, I squirted it in their direction.
“Security, security!” I shouted as I continued to hose the two guys down to no avail.
The bouncers quickly made their way to them and yanked Jag away from the guy, who was now dazed and bleeding everywhere.
I watched as security escorted both of them to the front of the bar. Jag glanced over his shoulder at me and made eye contact.
I couldn’t believe that had just happened, and I felt guilty for some reason. Jag Steele didn’t know me, and I’d been nothing but a complete bitch to him, yet he fought for me, for no reason…he literally fought for me.
I was floored.
“What the fuck just happened?” Tess asked, staring out over the crowd that was now chattering about the incident.
“Jag Steele just happened!” Drew stated, winking at me. “I think he has a thing for Rox here. Some guy called her a bitch and he went nuts.”
Tess’ face went limp. Slack-jawed, her eyes darted over to me, one brow arching and twitching a little. “Really? Hmm, Jag Steele…stood up for our little Roxy? Interesting .”
I shook my head, tossed the bar towel to the side, and made my way to the back. I had to clear my head. He had managed to get into it, and I couldn’t have that.
Jag didn’t know me, and I had been nothing but rude and condescending to him, and yet he stood up for me when he had no reason to.
That didn’t mesh with the image I had constructed of this guy. He was a rock god, he was selfish, he was an ass to women…so why would he have knocked a guy out for being “disrespectful” to me ?
I felt guilty about that, about the way I’d acted toward him, because evidently, in some way, my assumption about him had been wrong. How many people had I encountered, had I thought cared about me, but they had never fought for me, and Jag had.
That fact absolutely fucked with my head.
During the rest of my shift, my eyes somehow kept finding Jag through the crowd. Something inside me kept telling me I should apologize to him for being such a bitch, but there was a larger part that thought maybe it did him some good to have one person who wouldn’t grovel at his feet.
The longer the night wore on, my conscience ate away at me. I realized it wasn’t just guys like Jag that were complete assholes, but that most people, in general are. The more I thought about the fact that he decked that guy in the face for being rude to me, the guiltier I felt.
I was pouring a martini when I noticed Jag leaving with some primped up groupie.
“You gonna go say something to him, hmmm?” Tess asked, popping a beer.
“What? No, what are you…” I felt sticky fluid run over my knuckles. “Shit,” I mumbled, glancing down at the martini now puddled on the bar top.
“Hmm.” Tess grinned and pointed at my over-poured drink. “Not distracted, are you?”
Huffing, I reached for a towel to clean up the spill, then handed the drink to the girl who’d ordered it.
“I’ll…I’ll be back,” I said under my breath and made my way to the front entrance.
Just as I came to the door, I saw Jag and the girl climb in a
“Yeah, yeah.” I grabbed the mint that had been laid down for me, crammed it in a cup, and angrily muddled it.
I’d just finished shaking up the stupid drink when shouting erupted from the crowd. I looked over and saw Jag’s fist repeatedly smashing into the guy’s face. He looked like a beast that had been unleashed. The guy kept trying to block Jag, but Jag just kept slamming his fist into the side of the guy’s head.
“Holy shit!” Drew, another bartender, grabbed me. “I think he’s beating that guy up because he called you a bitch.”
“What?”
“Yeah, he told the guy no one could talk to you like that.”
“Oh, my God.” I grabbed the soda gun and hopped up on the bar top. Aiming, I squirted it in their direction.
“Security, security!” I shouted as I continued to hose the two guys down to no avail.
The bouncers quickly made their way to them and yanked Jag away from the guy, who was now dazed and bleeding everywhere.
I watched as security escorted both of them to the front of the bar. Jag glanced over his shoulder at me and made eye contact.
I couldn’t believe that had just happened, and I felt guilty for some reason. Jag Steele didn’t know me, and I’d been nothing but a complete bitch to him, yet he fought for me, for no reason…he literally fought for me.
I was floored.
“What the fuck just happened?” Tess asked, staring out over the crowd that was now chattering about the incident.
“Jag Steele just happened!” Drew stated, winking at me. “I think he has a thing for Rox here. Some guy called her a bitch and he went nuts.”
Tess’ face went limp. Slack-jawed, her eyes darted over to me, one brow arching and twitching a little. “Really? Hmm, Jag Steele…stood up for our little Roxy? Interesting .”
I shook my head, tossed the bar towel to the side, and made my way to the back. I had to clear my head. He had managed to get into it, and I couldn’t have that.
Jag didn’t know me, and I had been nothing but rude and condescending to him, and yet he stood up for me when he had no reason to.
That didn’t mesh with the image I had constructed of this guy. He was a rock god, he was selfish, he was an ass to women…so why would he have knocked a guy out for being “disrespectful” to me ?
I felt guilty about that, about the way I’d acted toward him, because evidently, in some way, my assumption about him had been wrong. How many people had I encountered, had I thought cared about me, but they had never fought for me, and Jag had.
That fact absolutely fucked with my head.
During the rest of my shift, my eyes somehow kept finding Jag through the crowd. Something inside me kept telling me I should apologize to him for being such a bitch, but there was a larger part that thought maybe it did him some good to have one person who wouldn’t grovel at his feet.
The longer the night wore on, my conscience ate away at me. I realized it wasn’t just guys like Jag that were complete assholes, but that most people, in general are. The more I thought about the fact that he decked that guy in the face for being rude to me, the guiltier I felt.
I was pouring a martini when I noticed Jag leaving with some primped up groupie.
“You gonna go say something to him, hmmm?” Tess asked, popping a beer.
“What? No, what are you…” I felt sticky fluid run over my knuckles. “Shit,” I mumbled, glancing down at the martini now puddled on the bar top.
“Hmm.” Tess grinned and pointed at my over-poured drink. “Not distracted, are you?”
Huffing, I reached for a towel to clean up the spill, then handed the drink to the girl who’d ordered it.
“I’ll…I’ll be back,” I said under my breath and made my way to the front entrance.
Just as I came to the door, I saw Jag and the girl climb in a
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