I glanced toward the corner where a group of regulars were playing pool, the clack of billiard balls punctuating their laughter.Across the room, a woman leaned into her friend, whispering something that set them both off in giggles.
Scenes like that had a way of getting under my skin. I watched in silence, feeling that familiar ache, like everyone else had already found their place and I was still circling the parking lot looking for mine.
The thought made me scoff. Picking up extra shifts for Josh was supposed to keep me too busy to notice the quiet waiting for me at home, not shine a spotlight on it.
“How’s the diner going?” Josh’s voice cut through my thoughts.
I turned to him, flipping the rag onto my shoulder in a motion that felt much cooler in my head. “Good. At the rate we’re going, we should be open by Christmas.”
“That’s awesome.” Josh, ever the multitasking showoff, reached for two martini glasses while grabbing a bottle with his other hand. “I’ll bring my family for Christmas brunch. There’s nothing more I want than to watch you attempt to cook or serve me during the craziest day of the year.”
“I’ll make sure to burn your toast a little extra.”
He snorted, expertly pouring the martinis while managing to keep his judgment firmly intact. “Thanks.” He paused to garnish each drink with an olive. “Not that I’m complaining, but if things are going so well with the diner, then why are you trying to take extra shifts at The Modern Muse?”
“No diner paychecks until guests start arriving.” I quirked a brow.
Josh smirked, sliding the martinis onto a tray. “So it’s got nothing to do with Kira?”
Goddamn. Bartenders really did know too much about the human mind. “For your information, things with Kira are fine. Better than fine, actually. She’s going to be painting a mural for the diner.”
“Wait, what?”
“My mom requested it, and Kira agreed.”
Josh laughed. “It only took a few weeks for Landon and Kira to be back in their own little infinity. Damn, I feel like we’re in high school again.”
I shot him a glare. “It’s not like that anymore. She has a boyfriend, remember?”
He held up a hand, his grin only widening. “I remember. The question is do you?” Josh grabbed the tray, hoisting it up. “For what it’s worth, I ship you two.”
“Now you’re the one who sounds like he’s in high school.”
“At least I’m right. I’ve worked in bars for years, my friend. I know a little bit about a lot of people. For example, I know her boyfriend, Xavier, is a pale little wannabe.”
I agreed. Which wasn’t completely fair, considering I never met the guy, but something about him made me uneasy.
“And you know that because…”
“Because I used to bartend at Rose Buds, which is where Kira and her happy hour hype squad hang out. Xavier joined once or twice, but I got the impression her friends didn’t like him much.” Josh paused. “Well, not that they like you very much right now either.”
He walked down the bar to deliver the drinks to a middle-aged couple. “Enjoy your evening, folks,” Josh said smoothly, flashing a grin that probably earned him half his tips.
When he returned seconds later, brushing his hands off on his khakis, I gave him a look. “You’re a fountain of encouragement tonight, you know that?”
“Hey, soon enough, you’ll be able to tell stories about all the patrons of this bar, too.” He tilted his chin toward the other edge of the bar. “See that guy, Nathan Hansley? One elusive motherfucker. Owns his own cybersecurity business or whatever. I haveno idea, but I do know that he tips better than Santa in December.”
I followed Josh’s gaze. The man in question sat alone, glass nearly empty, posture relaxed but alert, like a lion lounging just before a kill. Dark green eyes flicked toward me, catching the bar’s low amber light. They were sharp and unflinching. His hair was jet-black, cropped short on the sides and swept back on top. Effortless in that expensive, too-much-effort kind of way.
I looked away before he could catch me staring.
“I’ll be the judge of that,” I muttered to Josh before heading down the bar.
I stopped in front of Nathan, keeping my expression neutral. “Can I get you a refill?”
He tilted his head, studying me with a look that made my skin prickle. “Whiskey. Neat.”
Of course. In my experience, 90 percent of powerful men like him went for a whiskey neat. The other 10 percent? Piña coladas.
