I set my purse down. “Um, a dirty martini, please.”
Her full lips twist in disgust. “All right…”
“Is there something wrong with that?”
“No, not at all. I just can’t stand ’em. They make me sick.”
“Me, too.”
She arches a brow. “You drink something that makes you sick?”
“Yes. No. Well, kind of. See, I really do love them, but I can only have two. Otherwise”—I make a sour face—“I learned the hard way what happens if I have more than that. It’s also a really good way to limit myself.”
She pauses the shaker midair. “Huh.”
“What?”
“I’ve never heard someone drink something that made them sick so they wouldn’t drink too much to make themselves sick to begin with.”
“First time for everything, I suppose.”
“Definitely.” She pours my drink and hands it over. “Pay or tab?”
I try not to be too obvious about the fact that I’m looking for Ben. Depending on how he reacts, I’m not sure if I’ll stick around for long. But if things get awkward and I want to leave quickly, I don’t want to be stuck waiting for a bill. “Can I just pay for two now?” God, why am I like this? Why do I overthink everything?
“Yeah, I’ll be here all night, so that’s not a problem.”
“Kit, another, please,” someone calls for her, and she rings me up before serving them.
After signing the receipt, I take my first sip and take the opportunity to actually look around at the details I missed the first night I showed up. I’m not sure what I was expecting from a place Ben owned, but I know it’s not what I’m seeing. The big space is laid out like a typical bar, but the decorations throw me off because they have a feminine vibe.
Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, and the abstract artwork on the walls is framed in gold. The stools are a mix of mint green and bright red, and the tables look like white marble. It’s all unique and really cool, but the multiple TVs playing every sport imaginable, along with the row of pool tables and dart boards, are contradictory.
“First time here?”
I turn toward the voice on my left and mutter, “Yeah.” The pair of eyes reminds me of Ben’s, but lighter, one of them with faded bruising around it.
The man smirks at me and asks, “Weird, right?”
“What is?”
He chuckles. “I saw you looking at all the weird-ass decorations.”
“Not weird, just…different.”
“Ya hear that, Kit?” he hollers. “New girl thinks the shit you got all over the place isdifferent.”
I panic. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way, I meant—”
Kit cuts me off. “Different is good. That’s the point. Don’t be a dick and scare her off.” She whisper-yells, “Ignore him, girl. It’s what I do.”
He grunts as if he’s been hit and holds his palm against his broad chest. “You wound me.”
“You irritate me.”
“She’s just bitter because no matter how many times she asks or how hard she begs, I always turn her down. But that’s lucky for you, ’cause it means I’m as single as they come.” He winks. “So what’s your name, new girl?”
“It’s notnew girl.”
