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I m just about to tell her exactly what ll happen if she s in a hurry when a masculine voice
interrupts my train of thought.
Traci?
A guy strolls over. He drapes an arm around her shoulders, and she rolls her eyes at me and tries
to play him off.
Nice of you to show up. I was just getting a drink. She gives me another wink. A girl like her
could send that man packing in two seconds flat, and I might as well help her along. My MO doesn t
include backing down from douchebags like this guy.
The man takes the drink from her and gulps, Not bad, he shrugs. I ll have the same as my
girlfriend. That remark is pointed at me. Hint taken. I make another drink, and slide it across the bar.
To those who wait, the woman raises her glass. She gives me a suggestive lick of her lips, the
kind of gesture designed to make me think about that mouth wrapped around my cock.
But it s too late. Never gonna happen now, lady. There are enough single women in this bar, and I
don t go for someone who s already taken. I get back to work, until I hear a chuckle.
Jackson is behind the bar, grabbing some beers.
Hey, back off, this is my turf, I joke. You build the bars, I serve the booze.
Yeah, yeah. Maybe if you weren t so busy flirting, I wouldn t have to get them myself.
I can multi-task just fine, I shoot back. But anytime you need lessons with the ladies, I ll be
happy to help you out. Start with the basics, you know, save my advanced skills course for later. I
spot a couple of hot blondes arrive, arm in arm and looking for a good time. Speaking of which,
double trouble 101, over in the corner.
Jackson snorts. Someday, I ll enjoy watching someone tie you down.
Never gonna happen, I say, saluting him with my beer. I take a drink and set it aside. It s back
into the trenches, and there is nothing like working my way through a room.
Jackson tosses me another beer and I grab it, juggling the other two in a move that s more flash
than technical. The patrons cheer. This is the life. Some guys can be happy with just one woman, but I
figure, why deny the rest of them the pleasure?
I move through the line of the bar, mixing drinks and taking names. A brunette with a come-and-
fuck-me smile looks from me to the menu.
What you want is not on that menu, I say, plucking it out of her grasp and easily tossing it over
my shoulder.
And how do you know that?
Because, I say, grabbing a bottle of liquor and pouring a steady stream into a shaker full of ice,
you want to try something new. Something that will help you let go. And that is why I m here.
To catch me when I fall or help me let go. She s teasing. I m game.
Both.
A quick shake and she watches my arms. Straining her drink, I slide it across the bar as she
scribbles something on a napkin and slides it across to me. Her number.
Call me sometime? she says, casual.
Bet on it. I pocket it and leave her with her drink and a smile a smile that says there s so much
more to come. But later, for now, I ve got more thirsty customers to deal with. I serve fast, until a
piercing whistle cuts through the din.
Oh, barkeep, a sugary voice calls. I m just about dying of thirst over here.
I laugh. I know that voice, and trust me, this girl is more spice than sugar.
Savannah, baby, I greet her with a grin. What can I do you for tonight?
She smiles back. Aren t you supposed to tell me? Or are your special powers slipping? There s
a note of amusement in her voice. And a challenge.
Oh, ye of little faith. I look her up and down, which is never much of a chore, especially
tonight. She s wearing a tight navy dress that hugs her curves and begs to be peeled away slowly or
shoved up fast. Which means there s a hot date on the horizon lucky bastard. I know exactly what
you need.
Funny, she smirks, That s what all the guys tell me, but somehow, they all come up short.
Not me, sweetheart. I tell her, setting down a tumbler and reaching for the whiskey the good
shit. When I make you a promise, I always deliver.
I set the glass in front of her with a flourish. She gives me a slow clap.
No thanks needed for the drink, I tell her.
Oh no, that was for the number burning a hole in your pocket. She flashes a smirk.
Savy, as always, your charms are much appreciated.
Savannah leans over the drink and then looks up at me with a critical gaze. What, no mint? Don t
tell me I haven t been a bad girl. But really, does that line actually work?
I ll have you know that smacking the mint before adding it to a drink helps to release its
aromatics.
That s a very big word for you. However do your patrons keep up? Savannah sips her drink,
and I have to pull my eyes away from the gentle suction of her lush lips at the rim of the glass. I ve
been warned enough times by our mutual friends: Savannah is off limits. Nothing wrong with a little
harmless flirting though.
So who s the lucky guy tonight? I ask. Better than the last one, I hope?
My last date was fine, thank you, Savannah says primly.
I grin. Really? Because from what I heard, Mr. Slobber could use some pointers.
Who told you about Realization dawns, her blue eyes narrowing like a hunter on the prowl.
Cassie is so dead.
Before you murder my friend s girl, please explain Picky Eater. I liked that story, too.
She shoots me a glare and slams back the rest of her whiskey with a grimace that I can t help but
find sexy as hell. Most girls who toddle in here on their stilettos go for wine or a fruity cocktail, but
there s nothing sexier than a woman who can appreciate her whiskey.
How much is left in that bottle? she asks.
I hold it up. At least a few bad decisions, I d say.
Hit me.
This isn t poker, baby, but if you re willing to play hold em, I d be happy to help you up the
ante.
And what s the buy in?
Just a night of your time. I tease. It ll be fantastic. I can guarantee you ll be seeing stars by the
end.
Savannah rolls her eyes and nudges the empty glass toward me across the bar. Your manwhore
tactics should not be pointed in my direction. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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I m just about to tell her exactly what ll happen if she s in a hurry when a masculine voice
interrupts my train of thought.
Traci?
A guy strolls over. He drapes an arm around her shoulders, and she rolls her eyes at me and tries
to play him off.
Nice of you to show up. I was just getting a drink. She gives me another wink. A girl like her
could send that man packing in two seconds flat, and I might as well help her along. My MO doesn t
include backing down from douchebags like this guy.
The man takes the drink from her and gulps, Not bad, he shrugs. I ll have the same as my
girlfriend. That remark is pointed at me. Hint taken. I make another drink, and slide it across the bar.
To those who wait, the woman raises her glass. She gives me a suggestive lick of her lips, the
kind of gesture designed to make me think about that mouth wrapped around my cock.
But it s too late. Never gonna happen now, lady. There are enough single women in this bar, and I
don t go for someone who s already taken. I get back to work, until I hear a chuckle.
Jackson is behind the bar, grabbing some beers.
Hey, back off, this is my turf, I joke. You build the bars, I serve the booze.
Yeah, yeah. Maybe if you weren t so busy flirting, I wouldn t have to get them myself.
I can multi-task just fine, I shoot back. But anytime you need lessons with the ladies, I ll be
happy to help you out. Start with the basics, you know, save my advanced skills course for later. I
spot a couple of hot blondes arrive, arm in arm and looking for a good time. Speaking of which,
double trouble 101, over in the corner.
Jackson snorts. Someday, I ll enjoy watching someone tie you down.
Never gonna happen, I say, saluting him with my beer. I take a drink and set it aside. It s back
into the trenches, and there is nothing like working my way through a room.
Jackson tosses me another beer and I grab it, juggling the other two in a move that s more flash
than technical. The patrons cheer. This is the life. Some guys can be happy with just one woman, but I
figure, why deny the rest of them the pleasure?
I move through the line of the bar, mixing drinks and taking names. A brunette with a come-and-
fuck-me smile looks from me to the menu.
What you want is not on that menu, I say, plucking it out of her grasp and easily tossing it over
my shoulder.
And how do you know that?
Because, I say, grabbing a bottle of liquor and pouring a steady stream into a shaker full of ice,
you want to try something new. Something that will help you let go. And that is why I m here.
To catch me when I fall or help me let go. She s teasing. I m game.
Both.
A quick shake and she watches my arms. Straining her drink, I slide it across the bar as she
scribbles something on a napkin and slides it across to me. Her number.
Call me sometime? she says, casual.
Bet on it. I pocket it and leave her with her drink and a smile a smile that says there s so much
more to come. But later, for now, I ve got more thirsty customers to deal with. I serve fast, until a
piercing whistle cuts through the din.
Oh, barkeep, a sugary voice calls. I m just about dying of thirst over here.
I laugh. I know that voice, and trust me, this girl is more spice than sugar.
Savannah, baby, I greet her with a grin. What can I do you for tonight?
She smiles back. Aren t you supposed to tell me? Or are your special powers slipping? There s
a note of amusement in her voice. And a challenge.
Oh, ye of little faith. I look her up and down, which is never much of a chore, especially
tonight. She s wearing a tight navy dress that hugs her curves and begs to be peeled away slowly or
shoved up fast. Which means there s a hot date on the horizon lucky bastard. I know exactly what
you need.
Funny, she smirks, That s what all the guys tell me, but somehow, they all come up short.
Not me, sweetheart. I tell her, setting down a tumbler and reaching for the whiskey the good
shit. When I make you a promise, I always deliver.
I set the glass in front of her with a flourish. She gives me a slow clap.
No thanks needed for the drink, I tell her.
Oh no, that was for the number burning a hole in your pocket. She flashes a smirk.
Savy, as always, your charms are much appreciated.
Savannah leans over the drink and then looks up at me with a critical gaze. What, no mint? Don t
tell me I haven t been a bad girl. But really, does that line actually work?
I ll have you know that smacking the mint before adding it to a drink helps to release its
aromatics.
That s a very big word for you. However do your patrons keep up? Savannah sips her drink,
and I have to pull my eyes away from the gentle suction of her lush lips at the rim of the glass. I ve
been warned enough times by our mutual friends: Savannah is off limits. Nothing wrong with a little
harmless flirting though.
So who s the lucky guy tonight? I ask. Better than the last one, I hope?
My last date was fine, thank you, Savannah says primly.
I grin. Really? Because from what I heard, Mr. Slobber could use some pointers.
Who told you about Realization dawns, her blue eyes narrowing like a hunter on the prowl.
Cassie is so dead.
Before you murder my friend s girl, please explain Picky Eater. I liked that story, too.
She shoots me a glare and slams back the rest of her whiskey with a grimace that I can t help but
find sexy as hell. Most girls who toddle in here on their stilettos go for wine or a fruity cocktail, but
there s nothing sexier than a woman who can appreciate her whiskey.
How much is left in that bottle? she asks.
I hold it up. At least a few bad decisions, I d say.
Hit me.
This isn t poker, baby, but if you re willing to play hold em, I d be happy to help you up the
ante.
And what s the buy in?
Just a night of your time. I tease. It ll be fantastic. I can guarantee you ll be seeing stars by the
end.
Savannah rolls her eyes and nudges the empty glass toward me across the bar. Your manwhore
tactics should not be pointed in my direction. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]