She tilts her head, pretending to consider. “You’d make decent money. There’s a demographic for ‘grumpy bartender with muscles and a pretty face.’”
“Noted for future career planning,” I say. “But no. Nothing that scandalous. Just something people wouldn’t really understand.”
Penny frowns at me. “But… doesn’t that get lonely, not being able to share yourself?”
“Sometimes,” I admit, because it would be nice to have someone other than my agent who understood me on a deeper level. Lord knows it can’t be my family or friends. This town would… well, they’d flip out.
“Lucky for you,” she says with a sly smile, “I’m leaving in a few weeks. You could try it out on me. I’ll take the secret with me to DC.”
That gets me. There’s mischief, sure, but curiosity too—the kind that invites you to lean closer and say things you shouldn’t.
“You really want to know?”
“Absolutely.”
“And you’ll never tell another soul?” I prod.
“Cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye,” she replies, making the pact motions.
I study her long and hard. She returns such an earnestly genuine look of promise, I roll the dice. “I can’t explain it right now. Instead, I’ve got to show you.”
“Now you’re just baiting me,” she says, but her voice has softened.
“Maybe,” I admit. “But it’s better that way.”
She takes the last sip of her beer, sets the empty down with a small thunk, and looks at me through lashes that still carry a hint of diner fatigue. “Then I guess you’ll have to show me.”
“I’m off tomorrow, so what time should I pick you up?”
“The evening rush is usually over by nine and it will take me about half an hour to close up, so let’s say nine thirty.” She pushes off the stool, slow and loose from exhaustion, the corners of her mouth curving. “And if it turns out you really are a male escort, I reserve the right to laugh.”
“Fair.”
She stretches—arms over her head, blouse pulling tight—and I have to look away before I forget how to be polite.
“Thanks for the beer, bartender,” she says, pulling cash out of her rear jeans pocket, which I know isintended to tip me.
“Put your money away, Penny. It’s no good here.”
She hesitates, then shoves it back in. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Penny taps the counter twice, like a goodbye, and heads for the door. The bell gives a sleepy jingle, then she walks out—back into the heavy honeysuckle Carolina night.
I find myself staring at the empty stool long after she’s gone. I wipe the ring her bottle left on the bar, even though it’s already dry, and I catch myself smiling like an idiot.
Nine thirty tomorrow suddenly feels a damn long way off.
CHAPTER 6
Penny
By the timethe last customer leaves Central Café, I’m exhausted. My feet ache, my back protests, and there’s a smear of chocolate pie filling on my forearm I didn’t notice until now. I scrub it off with a wet rag.
Still, despite the aches and the fact my tummy feels like it’s filled with butterflies, I can’t stop smiling. It was another successful day at the diner, and now I’m going on a date.
Well, no… not a date. An outing. A friendship adventure.
