Hard by Eve Jagger Read Free Book Online

arrived. Finally getting a job
took forever, thanks to the visa process. So it was mostly just
Sebastian and me, day after day and night after night, stuck in a
relationship that didn’t work in an apartment that got smaller
with every fight.
    Basically,
not much fun.
    I
had totally forgotten that nights like tonight at Altitude, when work
feels like play, could even exist. It feels like a party. It feels
like the old me.
    Things
were fairly quiet when I got here a little before eight, so Jackson
offered to show me around the kitchen while the head cook took a
pre-rush break. “You can eat during the shift,” he said,
handing me a sweet potato fry from the plate he was carrying, “as
long as you don’t tell Ryder I said so.” Afterward Cash
trained me on the serving station computer and walked me through the
credit card machine, in between staring at the tops of my boobs
pushing out of my tight, black tank top.
    Who
can blame him? I wasn’t kidding about not needing a push-up
bra.
    “Why
don’t you wear stuff like this every day?” he said as I
waited at the bar for him to pour tequila shots for my first
customers.
    “Because
men tend to forget that I have an actual brain when they see me
dressed like this. And I don’t want to be the reason you don’t
get any work done,” I said, hooking my thumbs through the loops
of my new black skinny jeans.
    “I
don’t mind.”
    “I do,” Ryder said as he approached the bar. The look on
his face was stern, but even in the dark lighting, I noticed his eyes
flickering down my body. “Are those people actually going to
get their drinks, or are you just going to flirt with Cash all
night?”
    “Are you always this much fun?” I said to him, stacking
the shots on my tray as Cash handed them to me.
    “We’re not here to have fun, tiger,” he said.
“We’re here to work.”
    “Then make sure you don’t get any enjoyment from looking
at my ass while I deliver these shots,” I said as I glided away
on my new high heels, carrying shots to the booth of waiting, thirsty
young men.
    When I was with Sebastian, any time a guy paid attention to me, he
would get instantly jealous. Not that he would say that’s how
he was feeling. Instead, he’d mainly just get mad at me and
eventually I’d figure out it was because the grocer had smiled
at me too long for his liking, or the guy sitting next to us in the
Tube had checked me out—that it wasn’t my fault at all. It’s not that I’m insecure , he’d say in his
British accent that could sound simultaneously charming and
condescending. It’s that those other blokes are too secure. He was always asking, didn’t I want to put on a sweater or
wouldn’t pants be more comfortable than the skirt I had on? It
was like he wanted to cover me up, hide me from the world.
    Good
thing he’s not here. Because even in the dimness of the bar, I
feel like I’m lit up tonight.
    The shift might have started slow, but now at almost midnight, it’s
a packed house, girls sitting on guys’ laps, people dancing in
booths when there’s not room on the floor, everyone ordering
drink after drink after drink. And the more they drink, the better
they tip, which means the closer I am to paying off Jamie’s
debt. Win win win.
    “Hey,
how’d you get into jeans that tight?” a guy says to me at
the bar as I grab three martinis for a table.
    “Very
carefully,” I say.
    “Well,
let me know if you need any help taking them off later,” he
says.
    “I
doubt you’ll still be standing.”
    “That’s
okay,” he says. “We can do it lying down.” In spite
of myself, I laugh. He’s drunk but he’s cute and it’s
nice to be noticed.
    But I’d rather ride Ryder. The thought appears so
suddenly and clearly for a second I wonder if I’ve said it out
loud.
    And I wonder what would happen if I did.
    I pick up the tray of drinks and turn to head toward the table when I
hear Ryder call my name from the side of the bar. He puts down his
glass of