Page 8 of Love Is Ale You Need

My snark doesn’t even phase him. Instead of giving me some snappy come back, he leans over, wraps his lips around the straw, and sucks. I'm fixated at the way his Adam's apple bobs up and down as he swallows. When he's finished he rests an elbow on the bar leaning in so only I can hear. “Are you flirting with me?”

I swallow down the rock in my throat. An Adam's apple should not turn me on right now. “How do you get flirting from that?”

“The tucking the hair behind your ear, ogling from the corner of your eye like I’m a fresh cut ribeye ready to be served up for your enjoyment.”

I roll my eyes and bite the inside of my cheek to hide my smile. “I wasn’t ogling you.”

“I’m pretty sure you drooled a little.”

I whirl around and as nonchalantly as I can, I brush the corner of my lips with my finger.

“You know, it would work better if there wasn’t a mirror right there.”

I glance up and sure enough, Trey’s smug smirk is peering back at me. A rush of heat floods my face. Spinning around, I inhale a deep breath and slowly blow it out. “Fine. You caught me. I was staring. But mostly I wanted to see if your head could get any bigger.” I lean in, his leather and spice scent tantalizing my senses, almost distracting me from my thoughts. “Just so you know, it did.”

“Have dinner with me.” Confidence oozes from his tone.

Hypnotized by his full lips, I nearly forget he asked me a question. “Excuse me? Do you randomly ask women who you’ve had a five-minute conversation with to dinner?’

“Sometimes.” He shrugs.

“And it works?”

“I’m batting about ninety-ten. But also, between us it’s been more liketwofive-minute conversations. So, I’d consider it one ten-minute conversation and you can get to know a lot about a person in ten minutes. What do you say?”

I’m flabbergasted. So much so, I’m surprised my jaw doesn’t hit the bar top. He’s so cocky and sure of himself. Plus, he reminds me too much of someone else, which dampens my entire mood. “I don’t think so.”

“So now it’s eighty-five-fifteen,” he mumbles. “I get it. You want to get to know each other more—”

“No. Not really,” I say but he ignores me.

“I’ll go first. My full name is Trey Alexander Wilson. My favorite beer is IPA. I like spooning and baseball. Not always together but sometimes. And I really want to take you to dinner. Now it’s your turn.”

I stare at him, mostly curious if he’s being serious but his bright steely gray eyes and raised eyebrows indicates he is. “Okay, my name is Rylee. That’s all you’re going to get because I don’t date guys in suits so that’s a no on dinner.”

“Come on. Give me a full name, at least. If you don’t tell me, I have ways I can find out.” He leans back on his stool.

I lift a shoulder and let it drop. “Oddly enough, I don’t doubt that so I guess you’ll have to work for it.”

“Dessa. What’s Rylee’s last name?”

She steps up next to me, brushing her raven locks over her shoulder. “I’m team Rylee.” She extends her arm, fist in the air. My bestie always has my side.

Dessa has worked at Porter’s for as long as I have. She’s our resident mixologist and is always creating new weekly drink specials for Lach to add to the chalkboard with his phenomenal artistic skills.

“Nora?” he asks.

“Seeing I’m new here. It’s best I take their side.” She raises her fist in solidarity.

“Lach, twenty bucks.” He pulls a black leather wallet from the inside pocket of his suit and holds out a crisp twenty-dollar bill.

He yanks it out of his grasp. “Hart.”

Out of all of us, Lach has worked here the longest. He’s also Jake’s best friend and clearly doesn’t have my back. I guess that’s one less Christmas card I need to send this year. Who am I kidding? I don’t have time to send cards.

“Hey, you never offered me twenty bucks.” Dessa clasps her waist.

“You wouldn’t have given it up for twenty bucks.” Lach tucks the bill into his pocket.

---