Free Business as Usual (Off The Subject) by Denise Grover Swank Page A

on the tray, so I’m watching when it finally opens and she runs through it. The guy she was with last night is close behind, and he snags her hand and pulls her back to him. They shut the door and join their group.
    “What’s the story with her?” Brittany asks, standing behind me.
    I look away. “Who?”
    “Don’t play stupid with me,” she says with a laugh. “We both know who. What’s the story?”
    I shake my head and scowl. “There’s no story. They’re the cast and crew from the theater down the street. Their play has a two-night run. They came in last night and they’re back tonight.”
    “And…?”
    “And nothing.” I try to get around her, but she blocks my path. “There’s nothing to tell.”
    “That’s bullshit. I saw you talking to her when you took her order, then you watched her for the rest of the night. What’s her name? You at least have to know that,” she teases.
    I press my lips together in irritation. “Alexa. Now get out of my way, or I’m going to blow my tips from the rowdy bachelorette party.” I lift an eyebrow. “Or is that your plan?” I try to sound pissed, but we both know I’m on the defensive.
    She scoffs and steps aside. “As if I needed any help. Get to it.” She smacks me on the ass as I pass by.
    The ladies are happy to see me and the band begins to set up while I’m setting their glasses on the table.
    The theater group is at the next table and I keep stealing glances. Alexa is sitting next to the guy who escorted her inside and there’s a notable change in the way they’re interacting tonight. His hand rests high on her upper thigh and she’s not brushing it off. Something about her is different too…there’s a confidence that wasn’t there before.
    Why I give a rat’s ass is beyond me, yet I do. I’m not jealous, more like intrigued. Something about this girl has crawled under my skin since she burst in the door with her friend the night before. She took in the room with a gaze that said everything she saw was hers to be conquered. Next she intrigued me with her ambitious summer program. Then when she went out onto the dance floor, she caught the attention of every human in the room in possession of a pair of balls. Perhaps she’s a siren.
    I nearly choke on my own thought. When did I turn into a romantic?
    I head back to the bar, but then turn on my heels. I’m already over here. I might as well take the orders for the theater group’s table and keep all the tips. Or at least that’s what I tell myself as my feet carry me to the table where she’s sitting.
    “How was tonight’s performance?” I ask, trying to not stare at her. Her black hair is a sharp contrast to her pale skin and startling blue eyes. I now worry that this was a bad idea because my eyes are drawn to her, as if I can’t control myself.
    Look at someone else, idiot .
    I tear my gaze away and find her friend, the girl who came to the bar to get her last night, and focus on her. She’s pretty and she likes the attention I’m giving her. She was alone then, and I don’t see a guy with her tonight either. Unattached. Good choice.
    “Great!” is the group’s enthusiastic response.
    I take their orders, sneaking glances at Alexa, but she’s too busy looking at the guy she’s with to even notice. What the fuck is wrong with me?
    I head back to the bar to get their drinks, an easy order. Most of the guys want beer; a couple of the girls want wine. My mystery girl wants a lemon drop martini. I tell myself that the fact that I remember it’s her drink from the night before makes me an attentive bartender, not a stalker worthy of my almost sex-offender label.
    “Well?” Brittany asks.
    “Well, what?” my irritation is real this time, though it’s not necessarily directed at her. More because I don’t know a goddamn thing about Alexa other than she’s working for the charity and that her electric blue eyes are hypnotic.
    Brittany laughs. “Never in a million years