When she’s directly across from me, she sets her coat and purse on the bar and gives me a feisty look.
“I said I had plansafter,” she replies evasively.
My eyebrows pinch as she takes in the large room we’re standing in. From the exposed wood of the ceiling to the windowed wall behind me showcasing the copper vats and pipes to the stone fireplace filled with stacked logs and roaring flames.
“This where you work?” she asks, her eyes going from the hat on my head to the vintage Rudolph T-shirt I'm wearing.
“It is,” I tell her. “There’s a private event tonight. Little different than usual.”
She frowns and looks down at her outfit, confidence wavering. “Is it weird I’m here?” she asks. “A private event I’m not invited to?”
“Ah.” I rub the back of my neck. “You’re working with me.”
“Oh?”
“It’s a charity event for the animal shelter in the area,” I fill in as she eyes the Doggy Donations box, high-top tables covered in papers and pencils, and the chalkboard sign that says Brews, Brats, and Barks. “Ticket gets beer and brats. We’ll serve the beer, Marv’s in the kitchen making the brats.”
“Good evening, Hollis,” Marv calls from the kitchen.
“Hey, Marv,” she shouts, smile tugging at her lips. To me: “I’ve never been a beertender before.”
“I know a guy.” I tilt my head. “C’mon back and I’ll show you how it’s done.”
She shuffles behind the bar, giddy pep in her step until she’s beside me and I launch into beer mode. I show her the glasses and the taps, then give her the breakdown of the brews—all made in house—and let her taste each one.
I hold a glass to the tap, angling it slightly as I start to fill it. “This cuts back on the head,” I explain, working to minimize the foam.
“Too much head is a bad thing?” she jokes. “Must have been what went wrong with all those birthdays with my ex-husband.”
Instead of telling her I would gladly take that birthday gift, I laugh. She shrugs with a smile. So damn charming.
A tapping of claws and jingle of bells entering the room make us both look; my black lab trots into a space between the high-top tables and sprawls out across the floor.
“Goose,” I explain.
“A beertender and dog lover,” she says, almost playful. “You’re full of surprises, Jay.”
“Looks that way.” I smile and pink splashes her cheeks. I shouldn’t but ... “How’s the internet dating?”
A spark lights in her eyes, like she was hoping I’d ask.
“I made an account,” she says, almost defiantly. “Last weekend.”
I straighten.
“Really?”
“Really.” She shrugs. “I surprised myself by doing it. But I figured I didn’t have anything else to do. I’m not going to wait around, you know? People can’t just think someone will make a move and never do it and wait forever.” She lets that land; it does. “And you would never believe how eager the pool is. Trust me.” Her eyebrows raise. “Very. Eager. Pictures and everything.”
The hell?I could’ve sworn she was bluffing last weekend. Even in her texts I wasn’t sure I actually believed she had other plans. But now? Now I’m not so sure.
“Really?” My eyes narrow. “Pictures?”
“Mhm.” She traces a finger along a rubber mat on the bar. “Very well-endowed pictures at that. I didn’t know dick pics could be so encouraging.”
Her face fills with impressed shock. By pictures. Of stranger dick.
It takes all my effort not to growl like some kind of barbarian.
