died when he was really young and that his mom had remarried some rich asshole who, to this day, Nash refused to have anything to do with. Phil, the same Phil who let us make his shop our own, had been integral in getting Nash to adulthood without a criminal record and a whole pack of illegitimate kids.
The bar was in lower downtown, or LoDo as most people actually from Denver called it. It was a popular hangout for mostly locals and industry people, and since I hadn’t been around on a Sunday in years I forgot how packed it could be when the Broncos played. The guys had a table in the back right under a massive flat-screen and already had a pitcher of beer waiting. Fist bumps and head nods for greeting went around the table and a raucous cheer went up in the packed bar as the Broncos scored.
“What up, fellas?” Nash poured us a round as we settled in. Rowdy wiggled his eyebrows up and down and motioned to a spot over his shoulder toward the bar.
“Isn’t this better than family time? Nobody wants to see Mom dressed like that.”
The girls who worked in the bar were all dressed in sexy sports-themed uniforms; some were supersexy cheerleaders, and some were in really small jerseys and hot pants that laced up like football pants. My favorites were the tiny referee outfits that barely covered their bottoms.
“No, they sure don’t.” It was nice to just chill and spend time with the guys on a Sunday when normally Sundays were the worst part of the week. It was way better than getting torn to pieces by my parents just for breathing. I felt a twinge of guilt at my selfishness, but I knew enough beer would squash it.
Jet looked up from the plate of nachos he was steadily demolishing and pointed a finger over his shoulder toward the bar. “Wait until you see the chick waiting on us. Dude, just dude, there aren’t even words.”
Jet’s band, Enmity, was pretty big in the local scene and I knew from firsthand experience he had his pick of groupies and rock chicks to choose from. If he was impressed by a chick, then she was probably a dead ten and I couldn’t wait to check her out. We chatted and pounded the pitcher away in under thirty minutes and the guys were getting louder and rowdier, but we were having a good time. We needed another round sooner than later, but I had yet to see the elusive Waitress of Hotness. Suddenly the hair on the back of my neck went up and I snapped to attention. There was a blonde making her way toward the table. Her hair was so blond it was almost white and it was in twin pigtails on either side of her head. Her startled green eyes were looking at me from under razor-straight bangs. Her mouth was a bright slash of red against a pale face I was as familiar with as my own. She had on the requisite referee outfit, complete with ruffly little black shorts and fishnet stockings. She also was wearing a pair of black boots that looked a hell of a lot like my own, only girly, and they went up seriously awesome legs to rest below her knees. While I struggled with recognition and my idiot friends leered at her, Nash climbed to his feet to enfold her in a bear hug.
“Hey, girl, what are you doing here?” Shaw gave a little squeal as she returned my roommate’s hug, but her eyes never left mine.
“Uh … I work here. I have for a while. I normally have Sundays off, but since my schedule changed and it’s busy I picked them up. What are you guys doing here?”
I knew the question was directed at me, but I was still too stunned at how different she looked to respond. Nash left an arm around her shoulder and pointed at our friends. “The guy with the chops is Rowdy—he works at the shop with me and Rule. The guy shoving his face full of nachos is Jet—he sings for Enmity and we grew up together. Guys, this is Shaw—she grew up with Rule and his brothers.”
I watched with a mixture of awe and repulsion as my friends practically fell over themselves to shake the hand she extended. I still hadn’t said anything and it was starting to get awkward, but she just smiled and picked up the empty pitcher and told us she would be back with another in a few minutes. All four sets of eyes followed the swish of her hair and the ruffles on her ass as she walked away. I wanted to punch everyone, including myself, in the face. As soon as she was out of earshot Rowdy turned to me and reached across the table to smack me upside the head. I swore and glared at him, but made no move to retaliate.
“What the fuck was that for?”
He shook his head and pointed a finger at me. “That’s the girl you complain about driving home with every weekend? That’s the girl you whine endlessly about walking in on you when you’re acting the fool? That’s the girl you dodge calls from and avoid like the plague? Geez, Rule, I never knew you were gay.”
Nash snickered and Jet busted out in a full belly laugh. I flipped Rowdy off and narrowed my eyes.
“Shut up. You don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”
“No? I have eyes and that chick is killer, so either you’re blind or stupid, because if I was cooped up in a car with her for two hours every week I’d be thanking God—not bitching about it.”
Nash shook his head. “I can’t believe you didn’t know she worked here. Do you really just ignore everything she says to you?”
I glared at him. “You didn’t know, either, and you talk to her when she comes over on Sundays.”
“I ask her if she wants coffee, not how she makes a living. Dude, admit it, you suck.”
I was going to argue but he kept going. “And she is hot—she’s always been hot. You just don’t like her so you can’t see it. She looks good in all that fancy crap she’s normally in, but man, in that uniform …”
“I like her fine.” I refused to comment on her hotness or lack thereof because it was weird. Of course I had eyes in my head so I knew logically she’s a beautiful girl, but she always seemed so cold and so untouchable that I never really thought of her as attractive—more like an impressive work of art that was meant for viewing in a museum than for everyday enjoyment.
“Don’t lie. You two can’t stand each other.”
I shrugged a little. “She’s like family. You know how I feel about my family.”
Jet lifted an eyebrow. “I wish my family had members who looked like that.”
I rolled my eyes. “Knock it off. Stop being a creeper.”
She came back with not one pitcher but two and a plate of wings. She smiled at Nash and the other guys but when her bright gaze landed on me, the shutters came down. “The wings are on me. I just can’t help myself from trying to make sure you eat on Sundays.” She turned away with a flip of one of her pale pigtails and moseyed over to another table full of middle-aged guys in ill-fitting jerseys. I narrowed my eyes when one of them put his hand on her ruffle-covered butt. Clearly used to it, Shaw flashed her killer grin and easily sidestepped the groper. It was such a different way to see her that when she walked past the table again, clearly intent on ignoring me, I reached out and grabbed her arm.
Her eyes flashed emerald sparks as she looked at the tattooed fingers I had wrapped around her wrist. I was surprised when a jolt of electricity shot all the way up to my shoulder at the contact. I lifted both eyebrows at her and gave her a nasty sneer.
“Do your parents know you work here? What about Margot? I have a hard time believing any of the adults you try so hard to impress know that you’re prancing around here half-naked.”
She scowled at me and shook my hand off. “No, my parents don’t know because they’ve never asked, and Margot knows I work in a sports bar but she doesn’t know what the uniform looks like, and I’m not even close to being half-naked. Leave me alone, Rule. My roommate works here, too, and she’s giving me the look that means she’s about to call in the troops. Unless you want to be carted out of here by three very big bouncers you’ll keep your hands to yourself and your trap shut. I like Nash, he’s always been nice enough to me, but I have no problem getting you and the rest of your friends eighty-sixed if you continue to piss me off.”
We glared at each other in a hostile standoff until one of her other tables flagged her down.
“Just one weekend,”