Right when I’m about to admit defeat and ask whoever is controlling the music to call out his name and order him to the stage, my eyes land on the bar.
That’s when I see him.
He lines up a row of empty shot glasses along the bar, the clatter drowned out by the cheers of a group of eager twenty-somethings. Holding the vodka bottle high, he pours a steady stream into each glass, his sleeveless black shirt open on the sides enough to tease the sharp cuts of his ribcage. With his free hand, he flips his hair out of his eyes, chewing on a wooden toothpick that hangs from the corner of his mouth.
I swallow deeply. He looks like a fucking dream.
The group finishes off their shots, cheering and making their way back to the dancefloor.
My feet move, and before I know it, I’m sitting at a bar stool.
His back is to me as he wipes down the bottle and places it back with the others.
His co-worker down at the other end signals to him that he’s going for a smoke, and Noah nods, giving him a thumbs up.
He turns back around, and his eyes connect with mine. He immediately freezes.
I see all the emotions across his face. Confusion. Anger. Acceptance.Intrigue.
He leans on the bar, arms spread like he’s commanding the space. “What can I get you?” he asks, a glint in his eyes.
I wish time would just freeze. Just like this. His attention on me, just how I like it.
“Vodka cran. Hold the vodka.”
He nods his head, looking down at his well. “I can do that.”
I swallow deeply as I watch him move. “You work here often?”
“Every night till around ten,” he says, setting a cup on the bar and pouring some cranberry juice into the glass.
“Do you like it here?”
“Just trying to save some extra cash. Figure my shit out.” He shrugs, wiping splashes up with a cloth before setting it on his shoulder.
Am I not paying him enough to cover his bills? I know I pay him the same as the rest of the men, which is a pretty decent wage. Way more than a lot of contractors I know. Plus, it’s not like he pays for groceries or anything. But still, if he needs more, I’ll give it to him. I’ll give him anything he needs. He doesn’t have to do this.
“First time here?” he asks, cutting into my thoughts.
I lift the glass to my mouth. “Yeah. I don’t normally make a habit of following my fiancée's son to random bars.”
His eyebrows furrow. Dammit, I shouldn’t have said that.
“Who would that be? Would I know him?” he asks.
My gaze locks in place.Oh, he’s playing a game.
He takes a moment to take another person's order at the other side of the bar, but I don’t miss the way he comes right back to me once he’s done.
“No, you wouldn’t know him. He’s a work and no play kind of guy.” I shrug, deciding to play along.
Noah cringes. “Sounds like a dork.”
This makes me laugh, shaking my head in disbelief. “He’s the coolest guy that I know.”
Noah’s eyes drift over my face. Softness smoothing his features. “Is that right?”
I nod my head slowly before looking over my shoulder. “Yeah. He’d love a place like this, actually.” My gaze returns to his. “Just his vibe.”
