“Good whiskey isn’t a drink people should regret.” He found what he was looking for and then started searching for something else. With an apologetic look over his shoulder, he said, “Sorry, this isn’t my bar.”
“I didn’t think so. You look familiar, but I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”
After he’d gathered everything he needed, he shook his head and said, “I own Craft.” He paused to look at me, searching for recognition.
“I was just there!” I told him. “Friday night. It was amazing.”
“That’s good to hear. We haven’t been open for very long. But since Killian has convinced half my staff to leave their good employment to take a chance working with me, I offered to work his wedding.”
“You know that was his game plan from the beginning, right?”
He laughed, but his eyes stayed focused on the drink in his hands. “I’m realizing that. I think the whole kitchen staff is here for the same reason.”
“They are,” I said seriously. “It’s why the wedding took so long to plan. They had to line up a quality catering staff that could please two very good, very picky chefs.”
“And their guests,” he added—another sly look.
I smiled. “And their guests. Who are mostly chefs.”
He grimaced. “Not an easy task. I think they ended up flying someone in from California.”
“Probably safe to outsource.”
A body slid onto the bar seat next to me. It was Vann. He didn’t bother looking at the bartender. He only had eyes for me.
“They’re looking for you,” he said, his voice pitched low and direct.
I licked my lips and tried not to look at his. Maybe I should forego the drink altogether. “Who?”
“The girls,” he said, not needing to give them names. “I think they want you to sit down before they bring the food in.”
“Ah. Okay. Sorry, I was just grabbing a drink first.”
At just that moment, the bartender slid my Old Fashioned across the counter. I could already tell it was a good one. The orange peel was curled perfectly, and he’d given me two cherries.
“How much do I owe you?” I asked, suddenly realizing I didn’t have my purse on me.
He winked at me. “Bridal party drinks for free.”
Had more beautiful words ever been spoken? “You probably shouldn’t have told me that.”
His laugh was deep and genuine. “Remember what I said about whiskey.”
That people shouldn’t regret drinking it. Maybe there was truth to that. Last night’s bad decision had been brought to you by tequila. Maybe whiskey would appeal to my more rational drunk side.
Not that I intended to get drunk three nights in a row. I wasn’t that girl anymore.
Still, a little something to steady the nerves was in order. Especially with Vann boring a hole into the side of my head.
“Thanks again…”
“Will,” he supplied. “Will English.”
“Thanks again, Will English. It was a pleasure to meet you.”
Vann was full on glaring by the time I stood up. He was apparently my escort in all ways tonight and stuck by my side as we skirted the outside of the room trying to get to the head table. “Who was that?”
“Will English.” Giving him a perplexed look, I added, “He just told us.”
