"Bossy," she smiles. "It suits you."
I stare, open mouthed, as Lachlan’s cheeks redden. I don’t think I’ve ever seen my serious Scottish friend flush. Dawn really does have a special skill for getting under people's skin with her unbelievably relaxed attitude.
She slides from the bar stool and glances around again. As she strolls past me, I glance at her ass, catching sight of the tattoo Bradley mentioned. It really is bad. "Nice tat," I say, easing my shirt up my arm. "We match."
When she sees what I’m pointing to, she stops immediately and reaches out to run her finger over the words. "You have a fear of missing out?"
"I guess," I say. "I was drunk when I asked for it."
"What are you fearful of missing out on?"
Dropping my shirtsleeve, I push my hand into my pocket and relax my stance, gazing down at the fireball of a woman in front of me. "You."
The word slips out without my conscious brain taking in the gravity of it.
Dawn’s eyes widen, and she folds her bottom lip into her mouth and bites down. I’m not sure whether she’s trying to subdue her amusement or if my admission has surprised her enough to render her temporarily mute.
In the end, her mouth twitches, she releases her lip and sends me a megawatt smile. "Well, lucky for you, Lachlan has given me a reason to come back later."
"Lucky me," I grin. "And don’t forget YOLO."
"How could I?" She twists, lifting the back of her shirt to reveal a narrow waist, curvy hips and the full spread of ink across her skin. "I’ve got a permanent reminder to make the most of absolutely every day."
"Before you go," Lachlan says, temporarily interrupting our connection. "Can you leave your details here?" He hands Dawn a form and a pen and she scribbles down her name, contact details, current address and next of kin.
"Mitchell?" I ask, seeing her surname on the paper.
"Yeah. Not only do we have matching tattoos, we also have matching names."
"It’s fate," Bradley says sarcastically, but maybe he’s right? Maybe it is? Stranger things have happened.
"The other important thing that Lachlan forgot to mention is that the job comes with a room and three meals a day."
Lachlan’s head swivels and his eyes narrow. We hadn’t discussed it, but there’s no way I’m letting Dawn travel across town to that other hostel when she could sleep soundly under the same roof as all of us.
Chivalry isn’t dead at Cloud 9. Neither is my optimism that Dawn is going to be something more to me than just a colleague.
4
DAWN
"You’re coming back tomorrow?" Mitchell says as we leave the bar after my first shift.
It’s dark, but the warmth of the day still clings to the night, and I inhale the scent of the ocean into lungs that are hungry for everything unfamiliar about this place.
"Sure," I say softly, deciding right then that I will. Working in a bar as big and busy as Cloud 9 proved to be harder work than I anticipated. I spent most of the evening running with drinks in my hands and telling myself that there are other, easier things I could be doing with my vacation.
But as the patrons began to leave and the nine men who own Cloud 9 gathered to clear up, I was drawn in by their easy smiles, teasing conversation and relaxed approach to life. Even as a stranger, in their company, I’m more comfortable than I’ve been in a long time.
Lachlan, with his dark brows and hair, and watchful eyes that seem to take everything in, has made me feel cautiously welcome. Jared and Joshua, the twins from London, are bubbly and fun with green eyes and messy light brown hair that begs to be tamed. They’ve given me guidance on how to move around the bar in an easy and methodical way. Thomas is dark and mysterious, playing haunting guitar and singing with the voice of an angel. I’d put money on him having Greek or Italian ancestry. Bradley and Bryce are laid back, as I’d expect from Texans, with straight brown hair and eyes flecked with gold. They’ve cooked up a storm and filled my belly with tastes of home. Cooper, the DJ, has blue eyes that remind me of the ocean nearby, and close-cropped blond hair that looks like velvet under the flashing lights. Logan is the one who’s asked me the most about my trip. With sun-bleached blond hair and a serious mouth, he’s the one who feels the most like a protective big brother.
And Mitchell has made me laugh nonstop, which certainly helped the time pass.
"You didn’t have to do this," I tell Mitchell. "I’m a big girl. I managed to get all the way to Australia by myself. A short walk alone won’t kill me."
Mitchell shrugs his broad shoulders and purses his lips. "I didn’t have to, but I wanted to."
His deep voice resonates with a part of me that craves all the things that make men so different to women. His size and strength are attractive. His easygoing attitude is appealing. And when I like what I see, I usually don’t waste any time trying to get it.
"Does your fear of missing out stretch to boring walks with almost strangers?"
"I don’t think being in your company could ever be described as boring."
I grin, tugging the handle of my purse higher on my shoulder. My feet feel a little swollen in my sneakers and I’ll be grateful to slump into my bed and get some sleep.
"Do you think Lachlan was happy with me? Or did you force him to hire me?"
Mitchell begins to cross the road, resting his hand on the small of my back to guide me. The man has manners. "No one can force Lachlan to do anything," he says. "I think he might be soft on you."
"Soft?" I mime sniffing skin. "Did I wear a different kind of perfume today?"
He grins as we approach the entrance to the hostel I’ll be leaving in the morning. "It’s not your perfume," he says, dipping his head and looking at me through his thick eyelashes. "It’s your winning personality."
"Not my butt then?" I turn and smooth my hands over my fitted jeans, and he eyes my curves lustfully.
"Well, a good butt never hurts anyone’s case."
"Good to know."
A few seconds of silence tick past, disturbed only by the rustle of insects in the bushes next to us. There is so much about Mitchell that makes me want to drag him into my room and appreciate him. It doesn’t hurt that he’s serious eye-candy, but aside from his handsome face and crazily sculpted body, he’s also fun and seems like a good person, too.
Ideal boyfriend material if I was looking for one, which I’m not.
"So, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow," he says, already turning to look back in the direction we just came from. He’s cute, displaying that he has zero expectation of a reward for his escort. That only makes me want to drag him into my lair more.
"Tomorrow," I say softly. "Or you could come in to appreciate my winning personality some more."
His mouth pulls into a one-sided smile and those soft brown eyes of his crinkle at the sides. "How about your butt? Do I get to appreciate that, too?"
"Absolutely," I say, taking hold of his big, warm hand.
I know some people will think that having such an easy attitude to sex is problematic. There’s so much judgment around how people choose to share their bodies, especially when it comes to women.