I quicken my pace to catch up with her. Even in four-inch heels, the girl could beat me in a foot race. “I’m not very good at flirting.”

She stops, glancing over her shoulder at me. “It won’t take much. You’re freaking gorgeous.”

I shyly tuck a piece of loose hair behind my ear. “If you’re trying to boost my confidence, nothing you can say is going to make this any easier.”

“Fine, just watch,” she says, visibly rolling her eyes.

I watch her work, staying far enough back to let her do her thing but close enough that I can hear every word. She’s good at this, letting all the little comments and innuendos go in one ear and out the other. And when one guy tries to pull her down on his lap, she brushes his hand away and saunters off like it’s nothing.

When we make it back up to the bar, she rubs her temples, blowing air from her full red lips. “Ugh, I don’t want to go back to that table. I don’t mind flirting, but I hate when they fucking touch me. Who does that?”

“What are you going to do?”

She gives me a sideways look. “I’m going to take his drink back to the table, but I’ll be careful not to stand next to him. The rest of the group isn’t that bad.”

I nod, deciding it’s exactly what I would do in her situation.

Charlie comes up, leaning in to hear the order Dana just took. He begins pouring liquor into glasses and quickly places them on her tray.

“Time to get this over with,” she says as she picks up the tray and makes her way through the crowd. She does exactly what she said she was going to do, setting the jerk’s drink down from the other end of the table.

“Anything else I can get you?” she asks, a fake smile stretching across her face.

“Aren’t you going to come sit?” the jerk asks. He sticks out his lower lip, and instead of making him more alluring, it disgusts me. Overweight, stomach pulling at his faded Budweiser T-shirt, he’s definitely not a prize.

“No, I have more orders to take, but I’ll be back after a while to check on you.” She winks and motions for me to follow her.

“Maybe you should take his next drink and pour it over his head. The guy’s an idiot,” I whisper as we walk away.

“Charlie would lose his shit. If things get too bad, he’ll kick them out.”

I follow behind her for a couple hours. She does a great job of putting on her game face when she’s in front of the customers, but I can tell some of them are getting to her.

“Ready to take a couple tables?” she asks after reading Charlie the latest round of drinks.

I’m not, but I probably never will be. “Sure,” I answer, swallowing down my inhibitions.

“Okay.” She smiles, scanning the room. “There are two tables in the corner by the door. One of the guys who just walked in can’t keep his eyes off you, by the way.”

While taking a calming breath, I slowly count to three. 1 . . . you can do this. 2 . . . quit thinking so much. 3 . . . just be yourself. I grab a small pad of paper from the counter and spin around. I’m a few steps out before I spot the nightmare that sits in my section. Blake is with another guy and two women. With exception to him, the group is laughing and having a good time. His eyes are glued to me.

Not ready to face him, I walk up to my other table first. It seems safe—a group of middle-aged guys each sporting a wedding band. How bad can it be?

“Hey, how are you guys tonight?” I ask, forcing a smile.

“I think it just got a whole lot better.” One winks, his eyes roaming down to my chest.

“Happy to hear that.” The furniture store was a breeze compared to this. “So what can I get you?”

“Bud Light.”

“Captain Coke, please.”

“Make that two Buds.”

The only guy yet to order is the one who can’t seem to keep his eyes focused on my face. “And you?”

He doesn’t answer right away, probably enjoying how uncomfortable he’s making me. “Why don’t you come over here to take my order?”

I panic, remembering what Dana taught me about staying away from the creepers. He hasn’t touched me, though, so I move to the other end of the table, careful to stay a couple feet from him.

He scoots his chair over, coming a bit too close. “I’d like an Old Fashioned, and if you’re available later,” he starts, running the back of his finger up my thigh, “I’ll show you what else I like.”

I step out of his reach, feeling tears prick my eyes. I should say something, but I can’t. This isn’t me.

“Don’t fucking touch her.” I know that voice. I’ve heard that tone. Blake angles his body in front of mine. “Did I make myself clear?”

The guy sitting in front of Blake is larger, but Blake’s got more muscle.

“Loud and clear,” the guy says, turning back around in his chair.

“Good, now apologize.”

The guy spins back around. “Fuck off, asshole. Any girl who walks around like that is asking for it.”

My chest heaves up and down as I take a step back. Blake grips the front of the guy’s blue T-shirt, pulling him up until their faces are only inches apart. “Apologize or you’ll find out just how much of an asshole I can be.”

“Blake,” I interrupt, sliding up behind him. “It’s fine. I can take care of myself.”

He doesn’t look back. Nothing. His voice softens as he addresses me. “It’s okay, Nebraska, I got this one.”

I step back, knowing this is a losing battle. It’s obvious Blake doesn’t listen to anyone.

“Now, apologize you little fucker,” Blake spits, tightening his fingers around the blue cotton.

The guy raises his arms in surrender. “Dude, chill. I’ll behave, okay?” He looks around Blake to where I stand. “I’m sorry.”

Blake lets go of his T-shirt, sending the asshole back into his chair with a thump.

I nervously rub my fingers together, waiting for Blake. He turns slowly, a look of concern etched on his face. It’s different than the arrogant way he usually looks at me. “You okay?” he asks.

I nod, closing my eyes to try and calm my nerves. “I can take care of myself.”

He scoffs. “This isn’t the place for you. I know you need a job, but I think you should look for a new one.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” I start walking off toward the bar, but he grips my arm, pulling me back.

“Trust me on this one,” he says, his mouth so close to my ear I can feel his warm breath. What that and his woodsy scent do to me . . .

Get a grip, Lila.

I shake my arm free, facing him. “I know you think I have this perfect little life. That I’m some goody two shoes who moved to Chicago for an adventure. But you’re wrong, Blake. I’ve been through my share of shit, and this bar is nothing compared to it. Now if you don’t mind, I need to get back to work.”

Without another word, I walk off to give Charlie my order. He puts it together quickly while I drum my fingers against the bar.

“How’s it going?” Dana asks.

“Well, I went to my first table and met my first jerk. I guess some people think it’s okay to grope a girl just because she has short shorts on.”

She puffs air, sending her bangs flying up. “Are you sure you’re up for this?”

“I have to be,” I reply, honestly. “I need the money.”

She nods. “I know the feeling. It’s the only reason I stay.”

“What’s your story?”

“I moved here for a guy right out of high school. Things went well for a while, then he traded me in for someone else. I’m not ready to move back home and admit failure so I stay, and without a college degree, this is all I can manage.”

“That sucks.” I rest my elbows on the bar and look up to the clock. It’s just past midnight. Hopefully my shift doesn’t last too much longer.

“I almost have enough saved up to pay for my first year of school. I’m not staying forever.”

“What do you want to go to school for?”

She shrugs. “I want to be a nurse.”

“That sounds better than this.” I wink, watching Charlie deliver my drinks to the bar. “Hey, how do you get home after work?” I ask.