Page 68 of Bastard Bartender

Chapter Eighteen

“My boy Dro and I go to meet the parents of this girl he’s dating. She’s a ten with this gorgeous blonde hair and a super-sexy British accent. I mean, Dro is hard up for girls with accents, so when he met her, it was like marriage material for him.”

Nic is holding court at Marie and Sammy’s house, telling stories around the makeshift bar at the dining room table, where everyone is standing.

“We drive to Arizona because her parents flew in for a ‘holiday.’ ” He uses air quotes. “Dro packs every kind of tea and these biscuits and even buys a freaking blazer because he thinks it’ll make him look proper. I’m telling you, the guy had it bad. So, there we are, in this five-star hotel, when we meet this couple. Now, they looked pretty average. I had expected her dad to wear an ascot and her mom to have one of those wacky hats. The dad extends a hand and says, ‘Pleasure to meet, y’all. My name’s Billy, and this here is my wife, Kelly.’ ” Nic uses his best Southern voice, definitely imitating a family from the American South.

“Wait!” Marie leans forward, flabbergasted. “That’s not British.”

“Because they weren’t fucking British. They flew in from San Antonio and were in town for the rodeo. When we asked his girl why the hell she had a British accent, she said it’s because when she was younger, her parents really wanted a kid with an accent, so they spoke to her like they were British until she was seven.”

“Stop it! No way. You’re making this up,” a friend of Marie’s chimes in.

He holds up an arm. “Hand to God, the three of them broke out into weird-ass, fake English accents for the next hour. We finished our lunch, got in the car, and drove back to Vegas in record time!”

Sammy and his friends find this story hysterical. Marie’s friends are giggling, and I’m just rolling my eyes with a huge grin on my face. Drinks are poured, and food is served. There’s music and laughter, and it’s fun to be at my best friend’s house and see Nic so easily accepted in.

“Someone is smitten,” Marie says from behind me.

I look over my shoulder and stick my tongue out.

She takes a place next to me and watches the crowd having fun. “I’m glad you took my advice for a hook-up with the hot bartender. You needed a good romp in the sack.”

“It’s more than just a romp.”

“Yeah, right.” She swigs her beer and walks past me.

I shake my head as I watch her head over to Sammy and place a hand on his back, joining in on his conversation. While they’re schmoozing, I grab some appetizers from the oven and carefully place them on a platter. I’m grabbing the last one as Nic comes walking in and snakes an arm around my waist.

He leans over and snatches a hot piece of spanakopita from the platter. He’s placing it in his mouth as I caution, “Careful, that’s hot!”

He squints his eyes and chews quickly and then parts his mouth to let out steam. When he swallows, he grabs my glass of wine off the counter and finishes it. “Damn, I burned my tongue.”

“It just came out of the oven.”

“I was hungry, and it looked good.”

“You’re worse than a child.” I shake my head and chuckle under my breath.

“Guilty.” He grins and then kisses my head. “I came in to see what you were doing. You hiding?”

Wiping my hands on a paper towel, I smile up at him. “Just making sure everyone is taken care of.”

“You do know, this is Marie and Sammy’s party? They can take care of it.”

“I know, but this is my thing. I’m a planner. I get everything ready to make sure the guests are having a good time. It’s a hazard of the job.”

“Well, you’re not on the clock, and you came here to let loose. So, that’s what you need to do.”

I grab a box of pigs in a blanket and start to open it. “I will as soon as I heat up this next tray of—”

“No, you don’t.” Taking the box from my hands, he places it on the counter, and then he takes the platter of hot food in one hand and my hand in the other. “Grab your empty glass because I owe you a drink.”

With my eyes rolling, I follow him into the living room, where Marie is standing with a bottle of Malbec in her hand. At the sight of my glass, she comes waltzing over and fills me up. Nic lays the platter on the table and then pulls me into the living room. The radio is playing off of someone’s iPhone, so he points to it, asking Sammy if he can change the song. With Sammy’s nod, Nic goes into Spotify and selects a futuristic techno song with a dance beat.

“What are we, twenty?” I tease.

“What? Are you an old lady? Now, let your hair down and have some fun.”