Slowly, his mouth lifted in a smile. “As it turns out, the boss might be hiring.”

“Seriously?” She perked up. “So, could I meet him?”

“Maybe.” As if mesmerized, he watched the slow, playful movements of her fingers toying with her hair. “What are your job skills?”

“Well…” Speaking over the music wasn’t easy but no way would she suggest they go somewhere more private. “I’m a people person. I promise I’d work real hard. I’m always respectful.”

With difficulty, he got his attention back on her face. “How old are you, honey?”

She didn’t lie about that. “Twenty-one.”

“Hmm.” His eyes glittered in speculation. “Plenty old enough, then.”

“That’s what I keep saying!”

His big grin showed off strong white teeth. “The only job available would be waitressing.”

“Oh, I don’t mind that.” She squeezed his hand and rushed on with gusto. “I promise I’ll always show up on time, and I’m never sick. I swear that I’m a real quick learner—”

“I’ll take it up with the boss.” So saying, he glanced back at Terry Janes and nodded.

So she passed muster? Fools. She couldn’t wait to teach them both a lesson.

Quin hesitated with her food, hovering nearby but not intruding.

Carl motioned him in. “Your meal is here.” He patted her hand one last time. “Eat up, and then you can talk to him.”

“Seriously?”

He tipped up her chin. “If all goes well and he hires you, one of us will show you around the place.”

Uh-oh. She was supposed to stay where Spencer could see her. In the briefest of glances, she met Spencer’s gaze—and even in the darkness, with the crazy effect of the lights, she saw that he did not look happy.

Had he guessed what Carl said? Judging by his ominous expression…yes.

Well, he’d just have to trust her to keep herself safe, because she refused to blow things now.

She pasted on a beaming smile. “I would love a quick tour. Thank you!”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

SPENCER FOUGHT THE URGE to bodily remove Arizona from the bar. Had she not listened to a damn thing he’d told her?

With every hour that passed, the bar got busier, the clientele more hammered. Fewer people danced now, and even the dancers at the bar grew sluggish, sort of swaying in boredom.

It was bad enough knowing Carl’s thoughts, but Spencer knew the thoughts of every other creep in the place, too. They each took turns watching her, some more subtly than others, some outright leering.

The way she sat on that stool, her heart-shaped backside outlined by the snug skirt, her long, slim, shapely legs on display…

Spencer stopped staring long enough to notice another man burning a hole in her with his hot gaze. He made no pretense of not lusting after her.

Yet another man whispered to his buddy while eyeing her, both of them chuckling with suggestive grins. Seeing their amusement stirred something dark and turbulent inside him.

He did his best to contain the primal reactions. If he went on a rampage, he’d give up the game, and Arizona might never forgive him.

Some of the men were average—clean, not too drunk. Others had probably been at the bar all day, maybe from the night before given their red-eyed, slouched positions.

One elderly drunk in particular paced the aisle mumbling to himself and reeking of booze and sweat. Another younger guy sat quietly at a small table, doodling in a sketch pad.

Spencer wanted to annihilate them all—for doing exactly as Arizona wanted them to.

Even the barmaids cast her continual glances, some of them envious, some resentful, a few only curious. Though they weren’t in Arizona’s league, the women working inside the bar were mostly attractive, if somewhat worn.

When a redhead approached him, Spencer gladly latched onto the distraction. Mature enough, seasoned enough and definitely a customer, not an employee, put her in the category of safe ground. She’d help him blend in, which would give him better opportunity to watch over Arizona without anyone noticing.

“Hello,” she purred.

“Hello yourself.” With all his attention focused on Arizona, the woman’s overblown assets and painted features didn’t interest him. But he eyed her boobs, displayed in a low-cut, sheer blouse, anyway. “Can I get you a drink?”

“Honey, you can get me anything you want.” She eased a full-size, shapely rump into the seat across from him. “I haven’t seen you here before.”

“Haven’t been here before.” Using the excuse of flagging a waitress, he looked around and saw Arizona attempting to engage the young waiter in conversation. She looked edgy, even a little dangerous.

Don’t rush it, honey. Don’t push.

Arizona had a natural-born tendency to defend the underdog, so Spencer didn’t trust in her ability to maintain control.

When no waitress approached, Spencer asked Red, “What’re you drinking?”

“Rum and Coke.”

“Sit tight, then.” He touched the hand she’d rested on the booth top. “I’ll get it.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

He was so anxious to send a signal to Arizona, he almost missed the appreciative gaze of a barfly. At the last second, he winked at her.

After striding to the front of the crowded bar, he leaned past Arizona, being sure to touch all along her back, and spoke to the bartender. “A little service?”