Page 18 of Shadowed Whispers

Brave man.

I pause for a beat, a playful smirk forming on my lips. “Well, everything’s good, but I’d recommend you try the cappuccino. It’s like a hug in a mug on a day like today. Or are you bold enough for our espresso beer? It might just ‘espresso-ly’ lift your spirits!”

Leo doesn’t just smile, he does so with his entire face. “A hug in a mug sounds tempting. I need something that packs a little less of a caffeine punch. Something that’ll help me forget how sticky this counter is.”

“I hear the Kraken is a local favorite,” I say, wiping sweat from my brow with the back of my hand, my long, dark hair spilling over my shoulder. “Crisp and light.”

“I’ll take it.” He smiles at me, his dimples popping out.

I nod, making a mental note before turning to his friend. “And you?”

The man standing beside Leo is a vision of darkness, with flawless brown skin, onyx eyes, and features that make him look like an Arabian prince. “Rye,” he says. One word. That’s it, and his voice has my toes curling.

“Reef Rye and a Kraken.” I turn around, grabbing two glasses.

“So you work here?” Leo asks.

I chuckle. “Nope,” I say over my shoulder because it’s a dumb question.

“Oof,” Leo grunts. “Dumb question.”

“Your small talk is lacking.” I begin to fill their glasses as the laughter behind them rises to an obnoxious pitch.

Leaning into my role with a playful smirk, I fill the glasses with practiced ease. “I actually live here, behind the counter. The rent’s cheap, and the view isn’t bad,” I say, nodding toward Leo with a teasing glint in my eye.

Leo’s laughter bubbles up, warm and infectious. “Guess that makes me the nosy neighbor then. Do you host many parties in your... spacious abode?” His eyes sparkle with mirth, and even Matteo’s stern visage seems to soften at the corners, a testament to Leo’s charm.

“Only for those who appreciate the fine art of pouring beer. Consider this your exclusive invitation,” I reply, sliding the drinks across the counter with a flourish. I catch Leo’s gaze and hold it, a silent challenge.

Matteo, observing our exchange, raises an eyebrow but says nothing, his silence a stoic backdrop to our lively conversation. His untouched drink seems almost like an afterthought.

“Ah, so there’s an art to it?” Leo leans in, his curiosity piqued. “Teach me your ways, oh wise bartender.”

I smirk, enjoying the banter. It feels like this playful interaction has been missing from my life. “First lesson—never underestimate the power of a good drink to make even the most stoic of men smile,” I say, casting a sidelong glance at Matteo, who, despite his reserved nature, allows a hint of a smile to play across his lips.

Leo, emboldened by our interaction, inches closer, his demeanor radiating warmth. “And what about making a beautiful bartender laugh? What’s the secret to that?”

“Well, you’re off to a good start, but I’m a tough crowd. It’ll take more than charm and good looks to impress me,” I reply, tossing a towel over my shoulder. “Ten.”

“Dollars?” Leo whistles. “Damn, that’s going to break the bank.”

“Don’t forget to tip your bartender.” I wink as he slides me a twenty.

“Keep the change.” Leo winks back at me, making me blush.

“You are so sweet.” Chloe slides up to Leo, pressing a palm to his bicep before she squeezes it once and then turns to me. “Tipping the help. It’s so thoughtful of you.”

“Fuck off, Chloe.” I shake my head, regretting not foreseeing her early influence on Leo. I try not to let disappointment seep into my voice, but it’s there, lingering like a sour note in a well-composed melody. Her hand is possessive on Leo’s arm, a clear signal that she’s marking her territory. The air grows heavier with her dominance, and she might as well pee on him.

Amanda sidles up next to Chloe, her gaze sliding over Matteo with a predatory gleam that flickers like a shadow. “And you, such a strong, silent type. I bet you’re just full of surprises,” she purrs, ignoring me as if I’m beneath her notice like an old newspaper fluttering on a windy street.

I steel myself against their barbs, focusing on Leo and Matteo. Matteo’s expression is unreadable, his stoicism a fortress of cold, unyielding marble. Leo, however, looks uncomfortable, his easy smile faltering under Chloe’s grip as if it’s slowly being strangled.

“Actually, Frankie’s more than just the help,” Leo begins, attempting to defuse the tension that crackles in the air like static before a storm.

Chloe’s laugh slices through Leo’s words, as sharp and cold as a winter blade. She turns to me, her smile all teeth and no warmth, like a porcelain mask in a twisted play. “Oh, we’re well aware. The legendary bartender, aren’t you, Frankie? It must be utterly... fulfilling to dedicate your life to the art of beer.” Her voice drips with sarcasm so thick it’s almost tangible, coating the words with a venomous glaze.

Amanda leans in, her tone feigning innocence and as sweet as poisoned honey. “We’re just dying to know, Frankie, what’s your secret? Crafting the perfect martini, or perhaps it’s the nuanced skill of serving rowdy students?”

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