Chapter One
All he wanted to dowas go home, shower, and go to bed. It had been such a long day, starting at six a.m., and he was far from through. He still had his shift at the bar, but at least the following day was Saturday and he could sleep all day. He ran his paint-covered hands through his already messy hair as he reached his door, pausing only long enough to unlock it before forcing his feet to move through the doorway and all the way into the bathroom. He peeled his clothes off, dropping them on the way and not caring about the trail he left behind. Perks of being a bachelor.
Ryder flipped on the light switch, blinking in the fluorescents before jumping in the shower. He never got more than ten minutes of hot water, so he simply turned the faucet on full and let the cold water shock his senses. After sweating all day in the house he was helping Ethan fix up, the cold didn't feel that bad. He soaped up quickly, groaning loudly in satisfaction as the water finally heated up. The hotter the water, the faster his muscles loosened.
Stepping out and toweling off, Ryder walked into the one-room apartment naked, heading for his miniscule closet. Not for the first time, he wondered how Nora and Ethan had shared such a tiny space. Black was the preferred dress code for Carter’s Bar, so he yanked out black jeans and a black t-shirt and threw them on. He'd already stopped for a burger on the way home, so he simply brushed his teeth before heading back out the door.
For as long as Ryder could remember, that had been his routine. He worked construction by day and tended bar at night. Saturday and Sunday were for catching up on sleep, laundry, and bills. He was saving his money, paycheck by stingy paycheck, for a house of his own. He longed for a fixer upper that he could sink his hands into, something he could make from scratch. The real challenge was finding something for sale in Abbott. Anything would be better than the shitty apartment he currently slept in, with the tiny kitchen that was barely big enough to be called so, the living room so small it held nothing but a loveseat he rarely used, and a bedroom holding a single bed and a dresser. Technically, it didn't matter; he wasn't known for having company over.
Pulling into the lot at Carter’s, he drove around to the back to park with the other employees. He had a love/hate relationship with this job. He had fun most nights; the music was good, and the atmosphere was fun. Even better were the nights he sang live, which he’d just recently started. But he was always drained by closing time and dreaded getting out of bed the next day.
Ryder pulled the employee door open and strode in, smiling and nodding as he passed coworkers.
"Hey, Ryder, what's up?" called the guy standing in an office doorway as Ryder walked by. The manager was older than Ryder by a handful of years, with shaggy dark hair and brown eyes. He had a killer smile and was friendly and popular.
"Not much, Milo." He slowed, turned around, and kept walking backward. "You?"
Milo snorted. "You work too damn much. Need to have some fun."
"Don't I know it," Ryder mumbled as he turned back around and headed behind the bar. He checked his soda gun, checked the stock on clean glasses, and got to work cutting limes, lemons, and oranges. When he was done piling them into their dishes, he pulled out the cherries and olives, dumping them into bowls and putting those in their place. He retrieved stacks of napkins and tiny swords and umbrellas, stashing them under the bar within easy reach. Checking his watch, he saw he had five minutes before opening, so he stood and waited for the crowd to pile in.
Ryder was expected to do the setup, but Milo closed down. That worked out fine for Ryder, who just wanted to go home and fall face first into his mattress by the end of shift. Milo unlocked the doors, allowing folks to come in. There were a few regulars, some who waved toward the bar as they took tables. Soon, Ryder had enough to do that he wasn't paying attention to the customers at the tables.
He was aware when someone sat at a bar stool, but didn't register anything specific about the person. He finished the round of drinks he was making, set them on the tray at his elbow with their ticket, then turned and looked at the newcomer. He was slightly surprised to see such a beautiful woman sitting at the bar alone and took in the slim frame and black-painted fingernails. She had dark hair that changed color as the lights flashed with the music. He watched it go from pink to blue to green before she spoke.
"Hey, cutie. I'll have a vodka shot, top shelf, lemons and salt. Might as well line up a few." She was holding out a black card, so he took it. Normally, he wasn’t affected by the female customers the way his best friend Cooper used to be, but she had a sexy, throaty voice that went straight to his gut.
Glancing at the American Express card, he frowned at the weight. It wasn't made of plastic. "What exactly is this? We don't accept toy credit cards." He smirked at her, raising a brow as he waited for her to reply.
She rolled her heavily made-up eyes. "It's made of titanium. The initiation fee was higher than your annual salary, for fuck’s sake. Start a tab, smartass, and line up my shots."
Refusing to let her snotty attitude and tone of voice rile him up, he turned away without a word and set up her tab. He had never seen a titanium-based black American Express, and couldn't imagine what that meant for her net worth. He grabbed the bottle of Ketel One and poured three shots, filling a plate with lemons and adding a salt shaker. He delivered all of these with some napkins and not a word spoken. She had irritated him, and he didn't like the feeling. Normally, he was paid to provide a flourish, to flip bottles and throw things in the air. Milo had trained him well, but this woman was clearly not interested in any of that.
Moving on to other orders, Ryder mixed drinks and filled glasses with free soda for the designated drivers. As the hours passed, Nora and Shea came in to help handle the volume of the night crowd. Ryder wiped down the prep area, then looked up when he heard someone call for him.
"Hey, bartender! Another round." He couldn’t help but watch her slick red lips as she spoke.
There were more customers at the bar now, looking around at the women like they were on display, which he supposed they were. Ryder wasn't exactly resting on his laurels, which is what her tone of voice implied. Being a patient man, he merely poured her another three shots and delivered them. This time, she spoke to him more pleasantly.
"Ketel One, huh?" She threw a shot back like a pro. "Not exactly Iordanov, but it'll do." She threw back the second shot.
He had never heard of the brand of vodka she mentioned, but she had a wide smile with perfect white teeth. "What else can I get for you?"
"Another round," she replied as she lifted the third shot and downed it. "And some for my friends here." She gestured at the men sitting down the bar from her. They looked up, and a few of them cheered. “What’s your drink of choice? Maybe I’ll buy you a round too.”
“Jameson,” he answered without thought. He wasn’t about to allow her to buy him drinks.
She didn't seem drunk yet, though maybe looser than when she came in; at least she was being nicer. Ryder did his best to ignore the obviously rich woman, but when he served her next round, as well as one for each gentleman at the bar, he realized she'd gotten up. Searching the crowd, he watched her go from singing with the jukebox to sitting in a man's lap at one of the tables. He turned back around when she kissed the man solidly on the mouth and he groped her ass in return.
Ryder made his way to the other end of the bar, essentially switching with Milo so he no longer had to serve the brunette. Unfortunately, she made her presence more than obvious when she stepped up on the bar with the help of Milo and started grinding to the blues song the speakers pumped out. It was slow, sensual, and something Ryder had covered before. Her hands were in her hair, lifting it off her neck before running her palms over her breasts. She bent her knees, dropping in a crouch over the bar before slowly rising again. When the song ended, it seemed as though there were a few extra beats of silence in which Ryder could hear the thundering of his own heart. The spell was broken when the music started back up, Milo helped the woman off the bar, and she wandered off to flirt on the dance floor.
At closing time, Ryder noticed the brunette leaving with a guy she'd apparently picked up sometime during the night. Ryder heard him chuckle at the woman as he ushered her out and Milo locked up. Ryder was officially free to go home and crash.
