Page 30 of Bastard Bartender

Chapter Nine

I wake up to the sound of my shower running. Startled, I sit up, frightened by the noise until I remember that Nic passed out on my couch last night.

I hop out of bed, wanting to make myself a little more presentable before I head out of my room and to the kitchen to make some coffee. To my surprise, I enter my kitchen to a fresh pot of coffee already brewed.

Point one for Nic.

I pour a cup just as the water is turned off in my bathroom. Leaning on the counter, I take a sip of my coffee, waiting for Nic to exit the bathroom so I can wish him a good morning.

Not realizing just how good this morning is about to get.

I expect him to come out of the room, dressed and ready for the day, but only seconds after he turns off the water, the door opens, and out steps a very steamy … very wet Nic.

With only the towel wrapped around him, his tan skin is covered in droplets of moisture. My eyes follow the drops down his chest and to his chiseled abs and the deep V that disappears beneath the fabric.

He stops in his tracks, and our eyes meet. I can tell I caught him off guard by the way he grips the knot of the towel and runs his fingers through his unruly, wet hair.

“Oh. Hi. I was just coming out to get my phone. I’m meeting friends soon, and I need to get the details,” he says, acting like he was just caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

He doesn’t reach for his phone though. No, he stands, staring at me with that wicked smirk of his. And I let him, enjoying the show for as long as he’ll allow it. I take another sip of my coffee, only so I can hide the smile on my face. He turns to grab his phone from where he placed it on the coffee table last night and then heads into the living room to change.

I’m still staring when he looks over his shoulder and asks, “A little privacy, please?”

I hear the rustling around of his clothes and his belt loop clinking against his button, and against my better judgment, I give him his privacy in the living room and keep myself from staring away at his naked body by staying in the kitchen while he gets dressed.

Of course, my microwave does face the living room, so sue me if I happen to catch a glimpse of his perfectly formed ass as he drops the towel to the floor. Round and firm with dimples on each side.

No, I’m not a woman hell-bent on looks, but it wouldn’t suck if my next guy had a fine-looking body like Nic’s. Again, not a prerequisite. I’d just really, really like to get my hands on something like that.

Jeez, when did I turn into Marie?

Nic enters the kitchen, and I’m quick to turn around with an innocent smile plastered on my face.

“Thank you for making the coffee. I normally make it before I go to bed, but I totally forgot to last night.”

“You’re talking very fast.”

“I’m not talking fast. I’m just talking. Like I always do.” I motion toward the couch. “How was it, sleeping on the sofa? I hope it wasn’t too lumpy.”

“Not bad.” He shrugs as he starts opening cabinets and then points around the room, as if asking where something is.

I presume it’s the cups, so I point toward the one in the corner. With a nod, he walks over, opens it, and grabs a mug.

While pouring himself a cup of coffee, he explains, “I’ve slept in worse places. On a rock in the Grand Canyon or in a tent on the side of a cliff in Oregon. My favorite worst place I’ve ever slept was in an ice castle in Copenhagen. Whiskey definitely came in handy that night.”

“You’re a real explorer, huh?”

“I guess you can say so.”

“Makes sense …” I muse as I take another sip.

He looks up at me from behind his mug. “Care to share?”

“You said you’re a bartender because you don’t want to do anything that keeps you from living life to the fullest.”

There’s a crinkle in his eye. The way he tilts his chin and looks back at me is like I just told him the directions to the lost city of Atlantis. “You listen well, don’t you?”

“Only when I hear something worth paying attention to.” I grin.