Page 8 of Until Ireland

My gaze shifted over the items artfully placed under the glass top in front of me. Little crystal treasure boxes were tucked around flapper hats. Other items included antique silverware, images of phoenixes, which looked as if they were etched into the glass panels, along with tarot cards with flames on them. I had no doubt in my mind that Mack designed this or had a heavy hand in creating the piece of artwork.

Unable to help myself, I ran my fingertips over the etchings, imagining being able to touch the items below. All I ended up doing was smudging the glass with my fingerprints.

I sheepishly looked up at the waiting bartender. “Sorry, Oscar.”

“Don’t you worry about it, sweetheart. It’s glass. Watch.” He brought over a dry rag and wiped away my fingerprints. “Good as new. So, what can I get you?”

“How’s your Cabernet Sauvignon?” I hedged, not sure what exactly Mack had in his reserves.

Red wine, particularly good red wine, was my kryptonite. I’d been known to spend thirty or forty bucks or more for a bottle. Often on Sunday, after I finished with adulting for the day, I’d head out to the back porch and enjoy a glass, or hell, even the whole bottle.

“Excellent.” His fingers tapped on the glass. “Are you staying for dinner?” He glanced back at me as he started down the bar.

Although he didn’t say it outright, I got the feeling he wanted to know if I’d be dining with the opposite sex.

“Yes,” I answered, keeping it simple.

“Order a glass or two with your meal. But here, at my bar,” he said, stretching his arms out, “You should seriously try one of our specialty drinks. You won’t be disappointed.”

Since this might be my one and only visit to Flame, I figured I’d go big or go home. “What about one of those flaming cocktails I saw when I walked in?”

He smirked. “I got you. Just need to know if you’re a mixed or straight girl. And, if you like to taste the hard alcohol or if you prefer sweet.”

I leaned forward as if I was about to reveal the nuclear codes for the country instead of a drink choice. Oscar grinned, and I didn’t miss the flare of interest in his brown gaze. “I like mixed and sweet, without the taste of alcohol.”

He nodded. “I’ve got you covered, and don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.” With a wink and a smile, he sauntered off to make my drink. Oscar was handsome, but my gut screamed player. And rarely was my gut wrong. Working at the bar offered him the perfect opportunity to pick up women. Going by his cockiness alone, I’d bet he didn’t strike out a lot.

I wasn’t interested, of course. I also didn’t want to send the wrong message. Turning my attention back to the items under the glass bar top, I hoped Oscar got my meaning loud and clear. I wasn’t alone tonight, and I wasn’t interested in a one-night stand either.

Oscar brought over a bright blood-red colored drink in a coupe glass. “May I present you with the Flaming Dragon’s Blood.” He placed the glass down first, front and center, then proceeded to pour the shot glass filled with some concoction of alcohol meticulously over the drink before igniting it. The flames were a mix of bright blue and red. I felt a slight brush of heat on my cheeks before the flames flickered and fluttered out.

I couldn’t help the girly giggle that escaped my lips.

“Enjoy,” he said, watching me intently before leaning against the bar, blatantly ignoring the other bartenders who were busting their asses.

He was oblivious.

Great.

Wishing to hurry this up so he got the hint, I took a sip of my drink, then nodded in approval. “Excellent.” The liquor was covered by the cold bite of raspberries with a hint of lemon and the distinct flavor of thyme. It was heavenly.

He, regrettably, didn’t get the memo there was someone I’d been waiting for, namely his boss. “You like?” The sultry tone of his voice had my shoulders inching up.

Again, sometimes it sucked having manners. “Yes.”

He leaned closer and oozed confidence. “Is your date late?”

I placed my glass on the coaster and sighed.Why do guys, especially overly confident guys, assume a girl has to be on a date and not just enjoying an evening out?It was annoying, even if in my case it was true. But I wasn’t going to tell him that. “I don’t remember saying I was meeting anyone, least of all a date.”

I realized my mistake immediately when a flare of arousal brightened his gaze. “A woman like you doesn’t get dressed up to have drinks or a meal alone, honey. We both know what you’re looking for.” He notched his game up a level.

I arched a brow, narrowing my eyes and giving him my best warning glare—one I knew often sent my siblings ducking and running for cover. I needed clarification of his comment, although, I was pretty sure he just implied I’d been looking for an easy fuck. Like every other case with every other woman in the world, it wasn’t the first time a man had implied something so foul.

Nor would it be the last.

I seriously contemplated wasting my drink by dumping it over his damn head, but I’d possibly make yet another horrible impression with the owner of this establishment—who had taken up way more time in my mind than I’d be comfortable to admit. Wasn’t I supposed to be over men and the drama that came with being in a relationship with them? I thought after everything I’d been through with Edgar, I’d have learned my lesson. Men were assholes, especially those who believed they were invincible.

I cocked my head, struggling to remain calm, cool, and collected. No matter what Oscar’s thoughts and opinions were, Iwasa lady. Not exactly easy to remember when I had a wicked temper.

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