Listen To Me (Fusion #1)(7)

The room is arranged to face a small stage that currently sits empty. It’s only lunchtime, so instead of live music, Adele is crooning through the speakers about chasing pavements. I hum along with the song as I enter the bar area, similar in color scheme but a bit more edgy.

A wall of wine barrels rises behind the bar, with bottles of wine lying inside. There must be a thousand bottles on that wall. Under the countertop is the largest wine fridge I’ve ever seen, also packed full of bottles.

So they do wine well.

“You need more for lunch than a glass of wine,” a woman announces. She has deep red, almost burgundy, hair, wide blue eyes, and is wearing a pair of jeans that was made for her ass along with a white tank top that shows off some pretty amazing ink. Her face is made up to look like a pinup model, and her red lips tip up in a grin as the blonde with her back to me takes a sip of her glass of wine.

“Wine comes from grapes, which is fruit. I’m having a fruit salad for lunch,” she says and sips her glass. “God, this is good.”

“Of course it is,” Red says with a smirk, then sees me leaning against the archway leading into the bar. “Can we help you?”

“I’m looking for the manager. I was told I’d find her in here.”

“And you have,” Blondie says and turns on her bar stool to look at me.

And suddenly the air is stolen from my lungs. This is the woman I saw the other night at the club. The one I couldn’t take my eyes off of. The one that made the rest of the room fade away.

The only word I have for her is bombshell, and I’ve never used that word in my life.

She slides off her seat, perfectly at home in her mile-high black heels, and strides quickly and confidently over to me. She’s in a high-waisted, black pencil skirt with a white button-down tucked into it. Her sleeves are rolled, the top few buttons unfastened on her shirt, giving me a glimpse at the most impressive cleavage I’ve ever seen.

Her blond hair is piled high on her head, in lazy curls. Her makeup is simple and flawless.

And she’s wearing black-rimmed glasses.

Fuck me.

I swallow hard and hold my hand out to shake hers, but she comes to an abrupt halt about two feet too far to take it.

“You’re—”

“Jake Keller,” I interrupt and close the gap to shake her hand. Hers is warm and slender, but her grip is firm. Her eyes narrow.

“Jake Knox,” she corrects me. “My friends all had your posters on their walls.”

“You didn’t?” I ask with a cocky smirk, already enjoying her.

“No, I wasn’t particularly smitten with you.” She pulls her glasses off her nose, much to my disappointment, and tucks them on top of her head in her hair.

God, I’m such a sucker for a beautiful woman in glasses.

“Shame,” I reply and continue to smile at her.

“How can I help you?”

“I’m here about the job.”

She frowns. “You want to be a busboy? Are times really that bad, Mr. Knox?”

“Keller,” I correct her. “Actually, just call me Jake. And I’m here about the weekend music gig. Although, I can clear tables if need be.”

She tilts her head, hooks a stray strand of hair behind her ear, and smiles, and my heart stops. Fucking hell, where did this woman come from?

And where the hell are these thoughts coming from?

“I’m quite sure I can’t afford you, Mr. Keller.” She turns to walk away, but I catch her elbow, turning her back to me.

“It’s not about the money,” I say quickly. “I’d really just like to play.”

“Your whole band?” she asks with a frown.

“No, just me. I’ll bring my guitar and all I’ll need you to provide is a mic and a stool, but I’m sure I can come up with a mic if you don’t already have one.”

She blinks at me, as if I’m not speaking English, then finally says, “Okay, where are the cameras?” She looks around the room and points at Red behind the bar. “Did you stage this? Seriously, you guys are bitches for doing this to me.”

Red laughs and shakes her head. “No tricks here, Addie. But send him over to me when you’re done with him.”

Addie turns back to me with skeptical eyes. “She was one of my friends with your poster on her wall.”

“And I’m not afraid to admit it,” Red says loudly as she stocks more wine.

“So, the job.” I cross my arms over my chest and watch her eyes dilate when they land on the sleeve tattoo on my right arm.

She’s not immune to me.

“Do you seriously want to sing here for peanuts?”

“I’d prefer popcorn, but I’ll take the peanuts.”

I smile and she chews her bottom lip and crosses her own arms, mirroring me. All that accomplishes is pushing her tits together, giving me a prime view of the best body I’ve seen in . . . ever.

Her curves have curves, and she owns every one of them, packaging them nicely in an outfit that screams class. In this moment, all I want to do is take her in my hands and feast on her.

But, one thing at a time.

“The job is for Friday and Saturday nights, from ten to close.”

“What time do you close?”

“Midnight.”