The thought immediately made him feel like an asshole. Thirty seconds ago he was pining for his boyfriend, and now he was ogling a hot piece of ass. Except Joshua hadn’t felt this kind of burning attraction for someone in a long time. Not since Benji. And before Benji, it had been his high school girlfriend Megan, who’d had his heart for three years.
And then his prey turned to take Joshua’s order, grinning to beat the devil, and Joshua’s heart nearly pumped out of his chest. “What can I get you?” the bartender asked in a voice as smooth as Tennessee whiskey.
Joshua’s brain stopped before he embarrassed himself by blurting out,“An hour alone with you.”Instead, he managed a hoarse, “Cap and Coke.”
“A man of simple tastes. Coming right up.” He also took an order from two other people and began mixing all three drinks at once. He was a symphony of movements, each one preciseand measured. A man perfectly in control of his body and his environment.
Joshua was sure his tongue was lolling out when the bartender brought his drink over. He handed the man his debit card, grateful for a moment to clear his head. Maybe come up with something smoother than a raspy drink order. He didn’t usually flounder this badly.
Emmett Westmore saved his ass by coming behind the bar with a bucket of ice to dump into one of the freezers. He bar-backed at Off Beat five nights a week, which was why he hadn’t accompanied him and Lincoln. After he dumped the ice, Emmett spotted him and came over. The guy was shy on the best of days, but he shined when he was with Lincoln.
“Hey, enjoying the show?” Emmett asked.
“Depends on which show you mean.” He tilted his head toward the cash register. “Who’s that?”
Emmett didn’t even look. “Van Holt. He’s worked here forever. Well, not forever, but a long time. He’s a nice guy.”
Van Holt. The name had a bad-boy vibe to it that Joshua wouldn’t mind exploring in greater detail.
The bartender—Van—returned with Joshua’s card and a receipt. He glanced at Emmett with those piercing eyes. “You guys know each other?”
“He’s a friend of Linc’s,” Emmett replied. “Joshua, this is Van.” With a smirk, Emmett slunk off.
Van grinned, then held out his hand. “Well, Linc makes Emmett happy, so any friend of his is a friend of mine.”
“Wait until you get to know me better,” Joshua teased, then shook. The faint tingle in his palm raced straight to his heart, sending it off at a gallop.
Van glanced at their joined hands, a funny quirk to his lips. “Is that an invitation?”
“More like a future prediction.”
“Is that so?” People were holding up cash money to order drinks, but Van held eye contact. “I like a guy who goes for what he wants.”
That was encouraging. “So what time do you get off?”
Van’s eyes sparkled at the double entendre. He handed over a credit slip and a pen. “Give me your number. I’ll text you, and if you’re still awake we’ll see what’s what.”
Not a guarantee of future sexy times, but it was a start. Joshua scribbled his cell number onto the paper, then slid it back to Van. “Something tells me you’re worth losing sleep over.” With a wink, Joshua took his drink and returned to the table.
“Were you just flirting with Van?” Lincoln asked.
“Yes. So?”
Lincoln shook his head, but didn’t comment further. Joshua shrugged it off and sipped his new drink, no longer in the mood to get hammered and pass out. Maybe he couldn’t fix things with Benji tonight, but he could sure as hell not be alone while he figured out what to do next.
Van Holt had thrown away more phone numbers than he could count. Hundreds at least, scribbled onto napkins or the backs of receipts. Once a drunk girl had grabbed his arm and tried to write on him with permanent marker, and that had been all kinds of fun to scrub off.
His instinct was to toss Joshua’s number into the trash, along with a few soggy napkins and abandoned cherry stems. Instead, he slipped it into his pocket, in case.
In case the odd little thrill he’d felt while shaking Joshua’s hand wasn’t a fluke.
In case he wasn’t completely exhausted by the end of his shift and maybe, just maybe, could use a little release.
As the night went on, he nearly dumped the phone number several times, in between making drinks, washing glassware, and dancing around his fellow bartender Sasha. They’d worked together long enough to not bump into each other in the narrow space between the two stations.
Joshua and Lincoln left a little after one o’clock, and Van couldn’t explain the urge to follow them. To followhim.He tried to ignore it and do his job, but Joshua’s face kept appearing in his mind’s eye. About his height, lean, with short dark hair and smooth golden skin that could have been from a tanning booth or hereditary. More dark scruff on his chin. Van couldn’t help pondering where else he’d find that lovely hair.
Further inspection was required.
