Women are my favorite customers. They tip well, and even though I pass those along to the staff, it always gives me an ego boost.
Tonight’s no different. No, tonight is even better.
I’d spotted the trio as soon as I took over for Troy. He let me know what they were drinking, along with his other customers’ orders, before he hightailed it out of the bar with a somber expression on his face.
I could tell from across the bar that they were professional women, well off, put together.
But there was something about the dark-haired woman with the bright blue eyes that itched my curiosity. While her two friends spoke animatedly and with wide smiles, she seemed to be staring at the bottom of her martini glass, looking for answers.
It wasn’t that it was a unique experience. Lots of people came here and used alcohol or a crowd as a vice for whatever they were going through. Yet, something about her intrigued me.
Maybe she was the type of beautiful that forced you to pay attention. It was effortless, like she was a genetic anomaly. Thick dark hair framed her face and was beginning to curl with the night’s humidity, whipping off the bay. Her lashes and brows were dark, framing crystalline blue eyes. Her skin in high contrast, she must wear SPF 100 everywhere she goes to stay unblemished.
Her clothes gave the indication she was a professional, somewhere with a dress code. Maybe it was the thing that had her wound up so tight.
But something told me she wanted to untie that pretty white bow around her collar and let loose. I wasn’t sure what it was about her, but it was there. Maybe it had been too long since I’d been to Avalon—a sex club I was adamant on never joining, yet now held a monthly membership—or maybe it was the fact I’d been so busy I hadn’t fucked anyone in a while.
But she had my attention, and I unreasonably wanted to attract hers as well. I walk up to their party, while she’s staring down an empty glass.
“Another?” I ask, her bright blue eyes glancing up at me analytically, though a word doesn’t slip from her lips.
“We’d all like another. We’re celebrating,” her bubbly blonde friend says.
“Oh? What are we celebrating tonight?” I’m genuinely curious, it isn’t some ploy that bartenders often use to get heavy tips and repeat customers. I want to know what was going on in her pretty little head.
“Our friend Kate here is finally divorced,” the brunette friend said, and I glance down at Kate, who still hasn’t responded while I made the women their drinks.
Divorce is usually such a dirty word, but I’ve been in the divorce party business long enough that I know that isn’t what people wanted to hear. “Well, you’ll have to let me know his name, so if he ever comes in, I can give him a free drink for the misfortune of losing you.”
Kate looks up at me like she’s overthinking something, unconsciously licking the vodka off her plush bottom lip. Instead of lingering, I nod, and help the next patrons at the bar.
I overhear Kate and her friends talking about my looks, and it takes everything in me to hold back the smug smile off my face. I know how I look. Ben and I have no issues getting women. Doesn’t mean I’ll ever get sick of hearing it though.
My plan was to buy their next round, maybe flirt with Kate more and see if she’d actually speak to me, when fate intervened and the sweet divorcée broke a martini glass on the bar top.
She goes to pick up the glass in an embarrassed hurry as I grab her wrist. I shouldn’t think about the fact that my thumb could leave a perfect bruise on the body part, but I do. I grab a clean rag and hand it to her.
It doesn’t look bad, but I’m an opportunistic asshole and divorcées are my favorite flavor.
“I’ve got a first aid kit in the office. Leo, can you get this cleaned up?” I ask the bar back as I round the bar and come to stand before the three women.
Kate is tiny, probably five foot four in heels, as I grab her by the elbow.
“Follow me.” I direct her up the stairs and to my office and flick on the light. I can feel her gaze boring into my back the whole way and realize she still hasn’t spoken a single word to me, but followed me anyway.
I head over to the cabinet on the left, grabbing the first aid kit, before tapping the long desk that faces the water and houses two chairs, one for me and one for my twin brother, Benjamin.
Too short, I grab her waist and help her up onto the table, making her clear her throat, but she doesn’t say anything else.
“You know, I don’t usually have an issue getting women to talk to me,” I joke, as I pull back the rag and take a look at her hand. I use the flashlight on my phone to get a better look to see if there’s any glass stuck in her flesh. It’s hard to see with the blood and I know I’ll have to get her cleaned up first. I open up the first aid kit and hope that she decides to speak to me while I bandage her up.
“I’m sure you don’t, looking like that,” she says. Her voice is raspy and sultry. It’s not what I expected, in a good way.
Her eyes go wide as she says it, but I smile, taking her in. She’s beyond pretty, and I notice a scar that’s clearly old on her neck that fades into her collarbone. I’m intrigued, while at the same time find it charming and unique.
“I mean, you have to know you’re handsome.”
“It never gets old hearing it. As I’m sure you would know,” I reply.
