Page 4 of Spiced!

We were literally three feet apart with only a bar counter between us, and we were waving.

This night just kept getting better.

“You’re a pro. Just keep saying that. You’ve got this,” Benji said.

“Right. Pro. Got it,” I said, accepting a shoulder pat from my sadistically grinning coworker and resisting the urge to toss some of my precious Fanta in his face.

The bar was filling around the bachelorette party by then, our usual Saturday crowd finding their spots and doing the brief recalibration that gay guys did when they discovered a large pack of women inhabiting their hallowed ground. Most adapted. A few of the regulars caught my eye across the room, offering expressions ranging from sympathy to utter amusement.

I was doing my final check of the bar surface when the front door opened, the motion catching my eye. I watched a man I’d never seen before stride in. He was wide across his shoulders, wore a dark henley, and had bushy brown hair that looked like it had very strong opinions of itself. The dude, probably in his late twenties, stood just inside the entrance for a moment, taking in the room with a single unhurried scan. He registered the bachelorette party occupying the center section, clocked me standing on the bar edge doing a pre-shift surface check, and found a stool at the far corner, well away from the rhinestones and laminated schedule.

Then he picked up the drink menu.

Jacks took his order and returned to his table a few minutes later with something amber in a short tumbler. The guy settled into his stool and draped one arm over the back of the empty stool beside him, looking every bit the owner of the bar rather than a new customer.

That’s when Courtney appeared at my elbow.

“Eight minutes,” she said.

“My set starts at eight-thirty, Courtney.”

“I’ve moved the timeline up slightly to account for energy optimization.” She checked her clipboard. “The girls are ready.”

“Energy optimization?” I blinked rapidly at Benji.

Benji stifled a grin and stared up at the ceiling.

“Fine,” I said.

I downed the last of my Fanta, tossed the can in the recycle bin, and rolled my shoulders.

The moment I stepped onto the counter, the bachelorette party produced a noise that was, conservatively, eighty percent of the room’s total sound output despite being less than fifteen percent of its occupancy, hitting a frequency that likely made dogs bark from across Tampa Bay.

Madison clasped both hands under her chin like the love-struck puppy she was.

Courtney documented everything from every angle.

The other sashes squealed and waved their drinks in the air.

From the far end of the bar, the man in the dark henley watched. He looked like a guy who’d ordered a quiet drink on a Saturday evening and received something considerably more complex—and was, despite the curls forming at the corners of his mouth, not entirely unhappy about it.

I met his gaze for just a second before the music pulled me in. His grin widened as he raised his glass approximately an inch.

I didn’t smile back.

I was a professional.

But it was close.

Chapter 2

Adrian

The eight-thirty set started.

Madison lost her mind, though not in a concerning way. No, she lost it in the way of a woman who had been promised the best night of her pre-married life and was milking it for all it was worth. Her sashed sisters screamed with her. The sound hit me in the chest before Jacks had even cued the first track.

The rest of the bar went completely still.