Run the Risk

“That’s the name I’m choosing. You did say anything would do.”

He chided her with a small frown. “But not Walter.”

She let out an exaggerated sigh. “I’m working, sir.”

“That’s not much better.” Hell, no one had ever called him sir. The people he associated with either had no manners at all, or were the ones he deferred to, not the other way around.

She forged on. “I have responsibilities, sir. I know that the bar encourages outrageousness. I understand that. It’s a guys’ hangout.” She glanced around with clear contempt, murmuring low, “There’s a lot of sexism, and a lot of inappropriate activity going on.”

“Yet you’re still here,” Rowdy pointed out softly.

“Yes, sir. For the pay, which I need. But I’m not part of any of…” She waved toward the floor. “That.”

He ignored the “sir” business. “By choice?”

She dropped her head to the table with a thunk. Rowdy winced for her. She looked tired and a little fed up.

Unable to resist, he ran his fingers through the dark ropes of red hair spilling over the table. Warm, thick, silky.

Was she a true redhead?

Something primal in his nature gave him a real weakness for petite women. For a redhead…yeah, he was a goner.

Without raising her head, she snagged his wrist, lifted it away from her hair, and sat up.

She maintained her hold on his thick wrist. Her slender fingers didn’t quite circle all the way around him.

Rowdy didn’t object, and she didn’t let go. The physical connection felt more intimate than it should have.

Anticipating what she’d say or do next, he watched her.

She met his gaze squarely. “On the off chance that you might be a buyer for the…establishment, I want you to understand that I’m too short, too lacking in curves and far too modest to ever do justice to any stage performance.”

“You think?” Because he didn’t. “You could audition and let me make that decision—”

Cutting him off, she held up her free hand. “And if you’re not a buyer, then know that I have no interest in flirting, the nuances of sexy banter elude me, and no way, ever, would I date anyone from this bar—regardless of how attractive he might be.”

Date? He didn’t date. No time and no interest. He said only, as a taunt, “Bet I could change your mind.”

She made a funny sound. “Take a look around, sir. Plenty of other women are hoping you’ll notice them. I’m sure they’ll provide an easier route for your intentions.”

She didn’t know his intentions, and he didn’t look, because he didn’t care. “I think you’re attractive, too.”

That gave her pause. She glanced down at her person and made a face. “I was going for something altogether different.”

“Like?”

“Perhaps plain, uninteresting. Maybe even invisible.”

So the clothes she wore were supposed to…hide her? He again took in her shoes which, despite being unadorned, were still feminine, almost like dainty little ballet slippers. The straight-legged jeans, likely new, showed the length of her legs. And that crew-necked T-shirt, even being a little big, displayed the narrowness of her bone structure and the soft swell of her breasts.

Whatever her intent, she made an enticing, overall package. Small, female, understated.

But with that dark red hair…

Intriguing.

That made him frown. Did Logan look at his sister like that? Did he see beyond Pepper’s outward image?

It wasn’t at all the same thing, given this woman only downplayed her looks instead of attempting to conceal them. But his sister…

“I’m glad we were able to clear all that up.” Mistaking his silence for lack of interest, she stood. “So would you like a drink or not? And believe me, if you give the wrong answer this time, I’ll leave and let another waitress deal with you.”