Fighting For You Read Online Free PDF Page B

myself that I didn’t need that remarkable woman.  That I didn’t miss the way her smile lit up her eyes and seriously just made her glow.  The softness of her skin and the way she felt.  The way she made me feel.  Just being around Danielle was a feeling like no other. 
    This had to stop.  Danielle was gone and it was time to accept that and move on. 
    The bar door swung open, I shot a look to see who was walking in.  I had to suppress my snort—this chick was clearly asking for it.  Sometimes it was so beyond pathetic that I wondered why I was still here, putting up with this shit, day in and day out. The girl with the skintight dress and far too much make up on swung her hips like she was real hot shit.  If I wasn’t responsible for making her drinks, I’d turn away from this chick and ignore the fuck out of her.
    “Hey, Sexy.” Unfortunately, it wasn’t late enough in the night for Sanders’ shift to start so I was stuck dealing with this hot mess.
    “What can I get you?” I deadpanned. 
    Before answering, the chick made sure to flutter her lashes, as if she were pulling me under her spell.  No chance of that happening.  What this woman didn’t know was once she left the bar, I wouldn’t be able to pick her out of a lineup five seconds later.  Nothing about her stood out to me—because she wasn’t her. 
    “Hmm … Well, what would you recommend?” I heard the flirtatious tone in her voice.  I was more irritated than anything else, but I knew I wouldn’t have any customers if I snapped at every woman that tried to flirt with me. 
    So, I had to play nice.  I pressed my hands into the bar and stopped washing glasses, focusing all my attention on Miss Desperation.
    “Beer,” I answered.  Her face screwed up in repulsion, making me crack a bit of a smile.
    “Not a beer girl.”
    “How about a Long Island?” I offered.  She leaned into her elbow, moving her face closer to mine.
    “Are you trying to get me drunk?” She asked, with another bat of those lashes.
    I leaned in marginally and whispered. “You’re the one that came to the bar.  I think it’s safe to say that you are trying to get drunk.”  I could see the shock well hidden at my brush off.
    “Fair enough,” she concluded. “What about we take a shot together?”
    I knew where this was going.
    “Tequila,” she added, before I could respond.
    I instantly shook my head, trying to deny the zing of pain at the subtle reminder of her. “Nope.”
    “And why not?” Her arms crossed over her chest as if she was seriously offended at my refusal.
    “There are two people I’ll drink tequila with and you’re neither of them.”
    Now she really did look offended.
    “Am I not pretty enough to drink with?” A slow smile spread over my face as I thought of the one woman I wanted to be here, asking me to take tequila shots with her.
    “Honey, why don’t you go throw on a hoodie, some hoop earrings and put your hair into a bun and then come talk to me.  Because, no offense, but right now—you couldn’t touch her.”
    Right as it slipped out I knew I made a mistake.  I never talked about Dani to any of my friends or family, let alone to customers.  She immediately caught onto the one word I wanted her to forget.
    “Her?  Who is this mystery woman that I am no comparison to?” There was a smirk plastered onto the woman’s face and I knew I had to get away.
    “No one. Think of what you want and I’ll be back.”
    “Okay. I want a few shots and a margarita on the rocks,” she called to me when I was about to turn and run.
    “You got it.”
    I walked to the far end of the bar but, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed she set her bag on the counter before turning to walk off towards the jukebox.  At first, I was relieved at the break but then I caught a glimmer of something I couldn’t forget.  A speck of purple captured my attention. That was when I noticed those shoes—the same bright color as my favorite