Page 7 of Bastard Bartender

“My job,” I state matter-of-factly.

“She works for the new stadium,” Marie hollers out.

I hold up my palm to him. “No, I can’t get you football tickets.”

A hearty laugh escapes his lips. “Do you get that a lot?”

“You have no idea. I work on the operations side that fills the stadium with other acts. Almost every date I’ve been on, the guy asks me that question, and I have to do the whole song and dance on how my business and the team’s business are separate entities.”

“Dating a woman who can get tickets on the fifty-yard line would be appealing for most men, including myself, but I’m more of a concert guy anyway.”

“Then, she’s your girl!” Marie smiles with her arm raised in the air, her fingers pointing at my head, opening and closing as if flashing like a vacancy sign.

When my eyes meet with Nic’s heated gaze, a chill runs through me, but I push it aside.

His Adam’s apple bobs with a swallow. “So, tell me, Evette, which letter of the alphabet was the best?”

I sigh. “Clearly, none, or I wouldn’t have moved on to the next letter.”

“They couldn’t have all been jerks.”

“Not all of them,” I muse, thinking back to a couple who were fine, just not for me. “Some have been pretty cool but not my type.”

“I thought you were trying to avoid your type. Wait, what type of guy is that exactly?”

“Give me a surfer guy with a tan. An adventurer with a laid-back spirit. That’s my kryptonite, for sure.”

Yes, men like the ones I fall for are harmless to most women but seem to cause serious harm to my heart.

“Too bad. I’m most definitely the kind of man you should avoid.”

I almost choke on my drink at his comment.

“So, you surf?” he asks with intrigue as he hands me a napkin.

I shake my head as I wipe my chin. “Um, no. I can barely ride a bike. I said, I like surfer guys. Not at any time did I say I surf.”

“You do realize, you live in the desert now. Not many surfers out here.”

“I know. That’s why I’m trying to date my way through the alphabet, so I can date all kinds of guys and maybe find my new type.”

He nods his head in understanding, which makes me feel better.

“I’ll tell you what. I can’t have my new friend leave the bar without completing her mission, so …” He turns to the register and taps on the computer screen. He flips through the screen tabs and then turns around, leaning toward me. “You see the guy at the end of the bar with the blue button-down? Go talk to him.”

I hold Nic’s stare for a second, wondering where he’s going with this request, and squint my eyes as I search his to find out. His expression gives nothing away, so I take the bait and look to the left at the good-looking guy having a drink with his friend.

“Gin?” I ask as I notice the man’s glass with a lime in it.

Nic smirks. “Yep. Go get ’em, killer.”

I shake my head and bite my lip. “I’m not looking for a man based on what he drinks.”

“Will you just do as you’re told? I’m practically handing him over to you.”

I look at Marie, who is watching the exchange between Nic and me. She widens her eyes as if to ask, What are you waiting for?

Nic nudges his head a touch in the direction he wants me to go in.