Page 24 of Shaken and Stirred (Bottle Service Boys #1)

ALEX

Parker hated lateness. He fully lived by the adage that five minutes early was on time, and on time was five minutes late.

I’d say lack of punctuality was his number one pet peeve, but watching Trevor flirt with customers might top that chart, even though he’d never admit it. The tick in his jaw said it all.

So when I parked at Top Shelf with only three minutes to spare, something I never did, I felt justified in my mild panic.

My stupid piece of crap car took a solid ten minutes to start again. If I didn’t take it into the auto shop soon, I’d likely get stuck on the side of the highway in a snowstorm, but who had the extra cash for an expensive car repair lying around?

Not me.

Grumbling, I shut off the car and hustled out into a cold, dark Wednesday night. Someone hovered near the rear staff entrance, hunched against the cold, illuminated by the floodlight above the door. Whoever it was faced away from the lot, speaking to someone on the phone.

“Yes, I am taking this seriously.” Silence, then, “Okay, I get it.” An arm flew up as a huff left the frustrated speaker.

Ryder.

I recognized the ridiculously thick gold ring he wore on his left middle finger.

Some dumb family crest he’d worn since the day I met him.

It was gaudy as hell, a monstrosity with rubies and diamonds glinting in the floodlight.

Exactly the type of thing you’d expect a rich frat boy to wear.

Ryder probably rubbed his dick on it to get off.

“Could we talk in the morning, Dad? This is an important conversation, and I’m late for—”

Silence again.

“What do I want to talk to you about? Um…”

I’d never heard anything but confidence crossing into arrogance from Ryder.

Not tonight. His voice was hesitant, almost fearful, and it had me feeling like an intruder.

I slowed, then glanced over my shoulder.

Should I return to my car to give him some privacy?

Parker would kill me if I came in late, but this conversation seemed private.

“Well, I want to talk about my future. My plans for my future.” The conviction in Ryder’s voice had me frowning.

His future? Wasn’t he getting an MBA, then sliding into some high-ranking role at his father’s corporation until the day he took over?

He’d sure bragged about it enough back in high school.

This silence lasted longer than the previous, probably filled with his father’s words. Unhappy ones if the way Ryder curled in on himself was any indication.

“W-what?” Ryder whispered. “What do you mean you refuse to entertain any ideas I have for the future? Yes, I know the plan has always been for me to take over CallCore, but I—”

The abject devastation in his tone froze me halfway between the door and my car.

Ryder hadn’t noticed me hovering, but he would if I tried to sneak inside.

His body blocked most of the door. No way could I go around him without alerting him to my presence, and he’d know I’d heard his half of a conversation I had no business hearing.

“I’m a goddamn adult,” Ryder growled into the phone, his voice rising. “I’m allowed to have my own vision for my future.”

My heart kicked into overdrive as I glanced at my car. If I started back, I’d be caught. If I moved forward, I’d be caught. So I stood there like a living statue, freezing my balls off as time ticked by, and my shift started without me. We were a solid five minutes into both of our shifts.

“No… I…” Ryder sighed again. The heavy sound twisted my insides.

“This is not a negotiation, Ryder.” His father screamed so loud on his end that his voice came through the phone, making me jump.

Shit, that was one angry man.

“Do not fuck me over. You are my son, and you will fulfill your role or find a new goddamn family.”

I gasped.

What the fuck? Who dictated to their adult son like that?

Ryder whipped around. The second he saw me, his eyes widened with horror.

We stared at each other, both wearing dismayed expressions.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I had to be the last person he wanted to catch him in a vulnerable moment. “I… uh… I’m late,” I muttered, scurrying around him to get to the door. “Sorry.” I slipped inside, leaving him slack-jawed as his father’s irate voice still reverberated through the phone.

I dressed, or undressed, as quickly as possible, then rushed out to the floor to set up my tables for the first reservation. When another five minutes passed without Ryder, I paused beside his unprepared table.

Had he left? Would he be a no-show for the shift? If so, it’d be the last one he worked. Parker had very little mercy for guys who flaked on work.

I sighed and then went to the stock room, where I grabbed extra napkins and glasses. After depositing some on Ryder’s tables and the rest on mine, I arranged them in the artful way we always did.

The least I could do was help the guy out a little. He was having a shitty night, and he’d sucked my dick, after all.

Do not think about that.

My VIPs were due to arrive in about five minutes, so I jogged to the walk-in for some cold bottles of water. As I rounded the corner, Parker’s angry voice had me slowing down.

“You’re almost fifteen minutes late, Ryder.” Even though Parker’s back was to me, I could see the annoyance on his face, and it made me cringe. No one did disappointment quite like Parker.

Somehow, my tardiness escaped my boss’ notice—thank God for small favors. Clearly, Ryder wasn’t as lucky.

Poor guy. Adding insult to injury was never fun.

Trevor would probably pop a boner at the censure in Parker’s tone, but Ryder merely mumbled an apology while his cheeks flamed an intense red. “I’m sorry, Parker. I had a family… issue.”

Parker grunted. “The only things I hate more than lateness are excuses.”

Ouch .

They stood between the refrigerator and me. Screw it. I could get the water bottles after greeting my VIP customers. I stepped back as quietly as I could, then started to turn on my heel.

“Don’t bother, Alex,” Parker said, making me nearly jump out of my skin. “I’m done here. Ryder won’t be late again, will you?”

“No, sir.”

Parker nodded. “Get to work, boys.”

He walked away, leaving Ryder and me staring at each other across a span of fifteen feet after I’d caught him in an awkward moment.

Again.

The red stain of humiliation on his cheeks didn’t detract from his hotness. In fact, it reminded me too much of the flush he’d worn while on his knees before me.

Fuck, why did my mind always go there?

I cleared my throat. “I’ve got your table ready. Just needs water.”

His eyes narrowed. “Why?”

Good question. I huffed a half-laugh. We sure weren’t in the habit of doing favors for each other. Of course, we could count the blow job as the ultimate favor.

Why?

I shook my head as though I could dislodge the memory of his mouth. “Fucked if I know.”

He grunted. “You better get out there before Luke escorts your VIPs over. I’ll grab the waters.”

He abruptly turned and disappeared into the walk-in before I had a chance to thank him. Not that I would have. He hadn’t thanked me, though I suppose his return of the favor was his way of saying thanks.

Whatever. This interaction didn’t deserve another second of my brain power.

Yet as the night went on and I did my performing monkey routine where I smiled, flirted, served drinks, and entertained men with enough money to blow thousands on a Wednesday night out, I couldn’t keep myself from glancing at Ryder every few minutes.

He was off his game. Short with customers, lost in his head, and frowning. He’d even spilled a full glass of Macallan on a smartly dressed attorney I was sure would threaten to sue. Instead, he’d murdered Ryder with a glare and earned his table a ten percent discount.

It was so painful to watch him work tonight that I almost offered to take his table and let him leave early. The only thing holding me back was knowing how humiliated I’d feel if the tables were turned.

Who’d have thought I’d miss his cocky grin and untouchable attitude?

After the third time he fucked up an order, I couldn’t take it anymore. We were both due for a quick break, so I motioned to a coworker to keep an eye on our tables, which were empty while the VIPs danced.

“Ryder,” I shouted over the pounding music.

He raised an eyebrow, so I pointed to the break room. “Ten-minute break.”

He nodded once, then turned and strode away, shoulders hunched in defeat. I trailed a good fifteen feet behind him. If he didn’t get his shit together, he’d be out of a job and—

Wait.

Wasn’t I supposed to want him gone? Wasn’t that the entire reason I’d agreed to his ridiculous bet in the first place? A chance to get rid of him without any fuss?

He slammed through the staff room door with a harsh shove, leaving me frowning as he disappeared, and I realized I no longer hated working with him. Customers loved him, he’d made friends with the staff, and on an average night, he had most of the place laughing. Ryder made work fun.

I treated the staff room door to a much gentler push and slipped from the sensory overload of the club to the muted, almost peaceful staff room to find Ryder guzzling water in front of his locker.

He had his chin tilted back, exposing the long line of his throat as he swallowed over and over.

The urge to press my lips to his neck and feel those muscles working nearly brought me to my knees.

Before I could do something stupid, like rub my growing dick on him, he lowered the water. “Can’t stop spying on me tonight, huh, FL?”

I narrowed my eyes. The return of the nickname had my hackles rising.

“Hope you’re not here thinking I’ll suck you off again. That shit ain’t happening. Besides, it’s your fucking turn. Though I thought for a minute there, you might get lucky. Parker might fire my ass before you ever have to bruise your knees.”