I reached out and put my hand on his. “By the time we’re done with our cocktail lessons, your crush won’t even remember his summer trip to France. He’ll be too busy swooning over your perfect Old Fashioned.”
Patrick laughed, his shoulders visibly relaxing. “I don’t know about that. Oscar’s pretty obsessed with his French adventure.”
“Trust me,” I said, winking. “I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve that’ll make France look like a snooze-fest.”
As Patrick’s eyes widened with excitement, a familiar warmth spread through my chest. This was what I loved about bartending—the chance to connect with people, to be a small part of their stories. And hey, if I could help someone else’s love life while figuring out my own mess with West, all the better.
“Drew, you’re a lifesaver.” Patrick beamed, his entire demeanor transformed. “I can’t wait to get started.”
I chuckled, giving him a playful salute. “Happy to be of service.”
As Patrick’s laughter faded, I noticed the crowd thinning around us. The fundraiser was winding down, and a nagging thought tugged at my mind. West. I needed to find him.
“Listen, Patrick,” I said, glancing around the room. “I’ve got to run, but I’ll be in touch about the class, okay?”
Patrick nodded enthusiastically. “Absolutely. Thanks again, Drew. You’ve really turned my night around.”
With a final smile and a wave, I set off through the dwindling crowd. I scanned the room, searching for that familiar mop of curly brown hair. Where the hell was West?
I weaved between small clusters of people, my mind racing. We had the help of Noah and his brothers, who hired an events company through their PR agency to manage the fundraiser and the event. All West had to do was network with potential donors while I talked about the project and was auctioned off.
Finally, I spotted him at the far end of the bar. My heart did a little flip, then immediately sank. West was hunched over, his usually pristine appearance decidedly rumpled.
As I got closer, I saw Noah standing nearby, concern etched on his face. West raised a glass to his lips with a slightly unsteady hand, and my stomach clenched. Oh, West. What have you done to yourself?
“Hey, guys,” I said, trying to keep my voice light as I approached. “Quite a night, huh?”
Noah’s relief was palpable. “Drew, thank God. I was just about to call you.”
West’s head swiveled toward me, his hazel eyes glassy. “Drew!” he slurred, a lopsided grin spreading across his face. “My knight in shining armor. Come to rescue me?”
I swallowed hard, pushing down the complicated mix of emotions his words stirred up. “Something like that,” I said softly before turning to Noah. “I’ve got this. I’ll get him home safe.”
Noah nodded gratefully. “I know you will. Time to go find my own knight in a fitted suit and see if I can have another round on his horse.” I laughed as Noah’s brows furrowed. “That sounded a little weird, right? I meant his dick. I’m riding his dick.”
“I got it the first time. Thanks for the visual,” I said.
As Noah moved away, I gently touched West’s shoulder. “Come on, big guy. Time to call it a night.”
West grumbled something unintelligible but didn’t resist as I carefully pried the glass from his fingers. His skin was warm under my touch, and I loved how perfectly his shoulder fit in my palm.
Focus, Drew. Now is not the time.
“Let’s get you home,” I said. “I think you’ve had enough excitement for one evening.”
As I helped West to his feet, steadying him with an arm around his waist, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this night was far from over.
Something must be eating at West to drive him to drink like this. He wasn’t even a big drinker. A tiny part of me wondered if he was upset that he lost out on the auction, but the devil on my shoulder told me to stop being deluded.
The drive home was filled with a tense silence, broken only by West’s occasional sighs and the soft hum of the car’s engine. I kept stealing glances at him slumped in the passenger seat, his curly hair a mess and his usually bright hazel eyes unfocused and distant.
“You okay over there, champ?” I asked, trying to keep my tone light despite the worry gnawing at my insides.
West grunted. “Just peachy.”
I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel, searching for the right words. “You know, if something’s bothering you?—”
“Nothing’s bothering me,” he snapped, then immediately deflated. “Sorry. I’m just…tired.”
