"Hey, I can't help it if I'm buff and adorable." I shrug. "I'm basically a puppy. You can't resist me."
They laugh, and Wyatt says, "Well, we're immune…but I have a feeling the new bartender in town is struggling."
"What?" I look toward the bar and see Jud. When our eyes meet, he smiles and waves.
I wave back.
"And there it is again, folks," Andy says, pretending to hold up a banner. "The smile. Trademark."
"Whatever you're thinking, I can assure you, you're wrong," I say, but I'm not sure there's any weight to my words.
The first singer comes on stage, and the buzz of conversation comes to a halt. It's Molly, one of the bartenders. She's a total disaster behind the bar, but when the girl opens her mouth, it's like the portal to a new, better world opens around us and we can walk in for free for as long as she's singing.
While everyone's distracted looking at the stage, I take a peek toward the bar again.
Judson is smiling at whoever he's serving, and it makes such a difference from the serious, grumpy man I met weeks ago. He looks more relaxed and sure of himself.
When he finishes with the bottle of scotch he's pouring, he reaches up to the shelf behind the bar. It's then that I notice he has the sleeves of his shirt rolled up and his arm is covered in tattoos.
My dick twitches in my jeans. Jud has tattoos? Is it just his arms? Does he have them anywhere else…everywhere else?
Fuck, I need to stop thinking about it before I get a full-on erection.
Our eyes meet again, and he stops for a second before smiling.
I'm moving out of the booth toward the bar before I can stop myself.
As if he knows I'm heading for him, he goes to the corner of the bar furthest from the stage.
"Hey," he says. "Can I get you a drink?"
"Hey. Shipley, please."
He grabs the bottle, twisting off the cap for me.
"How's work?" he asks.
"Busy. I can't remember the last time I slept."
"Is it always like that?"
I laugh. "Hell no. Maple tapping is a very short season. According to the weather forecast, I should have another two weeks to go, which works out perfectly."
"Why's that?"
"The Maple Festival in Fairlington."
Jud's eyes bulge out and his smile is wide. He places an arm on the bar, and I can't help look down at his tattoos. "Oh my god, I haven't been to the festival in…" he trails off.
"Ten years?" I add, but my eyes don't meet his. I'm still captivated by the colorful ink on his skin.
"Yeah…"
His voice is deeper, and when I look up, I'm met with the intensity of his blue eyes.
"You should go to the festival. I'm going to be there," I say.
"You are?"
