The Broken Falls Series

Alexis “Do you even know what pressure-treated plywood is? I bet you don't. You probably got your job here because of the size of your chest." The son of a bitch at my register runs his credit card for the purchase. I need this job. I have student loans to pay. I need this job. I have a car payment. I need this job. I have to eat. Pasting a smile on my face, I tilt my head and twirl a piece of the long hair around my finger. I wish I had a piece of gum in my mouth to pop so I could complete the vision of the blonde bimbo. “Something to do with it being treated so it won't rot, right?" “Something like that, sweetheart. They'll load it for me?" “Sure will. Have a great day," I say, pouring on the cheer before he leaves my register. When I notice who is behind him, my mouth goes dry and my stomach gets jumpy. Ever see a man who just does it for you? That's who this guy is. He started coming in a month ago, and while he's almost old enough to be my dad, he hits every single one of my buttons. The green eyes, the black hair with a teeny bit of gray at the temples, the strong forearms and rough hands—they're all proof that he's a hard worker who will no doubt do whatever it takes to provide for his family. A trait that's really attractive to me. “What a dick," he mumbles as he sets his purchases on the counter. He raises an eyebrow. “I can't believe you didn't tell him to go fuck himself." Just hearing the man say “fuck" does crazy things to my girly bits. I wonder how he says it with a woman underneath him or on top of him. If I were the type of woman who felt comfortable enough to proposition a man, this man would be the one. I laugh, rolling my eyes. “Unfortunately, I need this job. If I were in any position to tell him that, I would. Trust me." I ring up his items, trying not to pay attention to the way the black T-shirt under his unbuttoned long-sleeved red flannel shirt kisses his hips. I can't help myself—I lick my lips. I would do so many things to him if this register weren't in the way. “Hey, Lex, eyes up here," he says, his deep voice cutting through my thoughts. “Sorry, what?" I'm dazed. “Are you bartending tonight?" His green eyes sparkle above his short dark beard. “I am. Seven till close. Your total is twenty-five even." I manage to put everything in a bag without embarrassing myself. He hands me the money, letting his touch linger against my skin. “See you there tonight, then, lollipop." He grins, deep grooves in his cheeks exposing what would be dimples if his beard didn't cover them up. I blow out a breath, feeling it push my bangs up off my forehead. The other day, he came in to pick up an order, and I had a sucker in my mouth. It was my lunch because I'd woken up too late to grab anything else. Since then, he's mentioned it more than once, even when he's seen me at the bar. “Are you ever going to let me forget that?" I ask. He looks around the empty store then leans against the counter and motions for me to come closer. I do as he asks, knowing my tank top pulls tight and that, with a flick of his eyes, he'll be able to see right down the gap. “Not a chance" he says. “I still think about it. The way you swirled your tongue around the tip and then closed your eyes, savoring the taste? Gets me there every time." Holy. Fuck. Is he masturbating to the thought of me? A throat clears behind him, and we break apart. Someone else is waiting to be checked out. “See you tonight." I wave. “You can count on it." As he leaves, I watch his ass in those well-worn jeans. Then I turn back to the customer. But the rest of the day, my mind is busy wondering what that man does when he's thinking of me and—more importantly—which hand he uses to get off. * * * When I get dressed for my second job, I typically don't overthink it. I opt for comfort, and nine times out of ten, I don't take a shower when I get home from my first job. Tonight, though, I've taken a shower, shaved, and tidied up everything. Because Boone Wilson will be swinging by, I've decided to make an effort. Since graduating from college three months ago, I've struggled to find a job in my chosen field, and finances are rougher than they were when I was a student. Back then, I was able to supplement my income by working as a research assistant and using my cafeteria pass to eat. None of that is available now that I'm supposed to be fending for myself. It's crazy that no one ever prepares us for these in-between times when we don't know when we'll be able to put our degree to use and are struggling to find our footing in the world. I'm lucky to live in this apartment over the bar, but it's only because my family owns it. If it weren't for that, I'd be up shit creek, no doubt about it. “Are you coming down here anytime soon?" my brother, Justin, yells up the stairs from the landing where the bar and my apartment meet. There may as well not be a door closing me off from the rest of the bar, considering how thin mine is. “When I feel like it," I sass back at him. I'm doing my best to put a few curls in my hair, although given the humidity of the place when it's packed, I'm pretty sure it'll fall before I see Boone. “I have a date, and I'm not gonna be able to help you tonight. I need you to come take over." His annoyed tone travels up the stairway. I roll my eyes. He sounds like he's about to stomp his damn foot. “I'm sure one of the other bartenders can hold the fort down for five minutes, Justin. Give me a break." “They have to cook. The new guy called in." I drop the curling wand, making a face in the mirror. “He's been here for a week, and he already called in?" “His kid is sick. Are you coming down here or not?" Not doing anything in a hurry, I patiently curl a few more pieces. “Two minutes. Leave me alone so I can finish getting ready." He sighs heavily. “Gonna make me late." “Don't care." I'm wearing a pair of cutoff jean shorts that show the pockets, Britney circa 2010, along with a black tank top. My best green push-up bra, to match his eyes, is showing just over the edges. Tonight, my makeup is slightly darker than normal, and with the curled pieces of hair, I look as if I just rolled out of bed after having a good time. Finally, I add a layer of lip gloss. The only thing I'm practical about tonight is my shoes. A pair of Converse encase my feet. They're my favorite and are worn in enough so that my arches won't be killing me by the end of this shift, which will allow me to continue to stand at my day job. Once I'm done tying the laces, I head down. I spot Justin behind the bar. He gives me a pointed look, and I flip him off. I'm short enough that I can bend under the bar instead of having to lift the service-station area. Once there, I grab an apron and carefully tie it around my waist. Justin blows out a breath. “Can I go?" “Yes…" I let the word drag out. “Be back in time to help me close." “Good luck with that," he mumbles as he throws his apron down and heads out like his heels are on fire. He's gonna make me do it by myself, but as I see Boone walk in, I have a thought that maybe it won't be so bad to be alone tonight after closing. Maybe I'll get lucky and have a little help. Boone's green eyes meet mine, and judging by the shock of electricity that jolts through my body, chances are good. He licks his lips when those eyes of his lower to my chest. Scratch that. Chances are fucking great.