Page 17 of Trusting You
“Well, it’s my favorite and when people ask, I am pouring them samples.”
“Attagirl. Okay, go back to selling beer and I’ll make sure you have fresh kegs.”
I went back to pouring beers, filling pretzel bowls, and chatting with customers. I snagged empties and put them in the bus bucket that Trent collected every half hour. Someone had put some eighties hits on the jukebox, and I found myself swaying to the music while I rushed around. It was the strangest feeling, I was busy—like, really busy—but I felt great.
I was chatting and laughing and smiling and everyone was pretty polite and positive because, hey—I was the lady with the beer—and the night just sort of flew by.
Before I knew it, it was eleven and we were loading the dishwasher and wiping down the bar.
“Who was that guy?” Liam asked as we worked.
“What guy?”
“That blond pretty boy who was flirting with you all night. Do you know him?”
“I don’t know.” I was starting to get sassy. “A customer who wanted my thoughts on the double IPA?” Why was he interrogating me?
“Okay. I thought maybe he was a friend of yours.”
“Nope. Total stranger. But if he was—am I not allowed to serve drinks to my friends?”
“Of course you are, as long as they’re paying. I just wanted to check.”
I was instantly annoyed by his cranky attitude. “Did I do something wrong? Did I not pour the beer fast enough? Was I rude or unhelpful?”
“No. Not at all. You were great. You are a natural. Friendly and approachable and knowledgeable. You are probably the best bartender we’ve had. I am always too busy worrying about other stuff to really pay attention to the customers, and Trent lacks your social finesse.” He pauses, wiping down the already clean counter. “It also doesn’t hurt to have a cute girl working the bar.”
And my hackles were up. He does not get to call me cute after telling me he would never dream of dating me. “Cute girl?”
“Sorry. A lovely and accomplished grown woman.” He shot me a cocky grin, and I couldn’t decide if I wanted to smack him or kiss him. I needed to get home and get my shit together. I was on a high of a fun night and great tips. So what if he thought I was cute? I supposed that being cute wasn’t the worst thing in the world.
Sensing that I needed to get out of there, I got his attention. “Liam, what else do I have to do to close down the bar?”
“We’re pretty much done. Do you need to be somewhere?”
“No. Just want to go home, put my feet up, and relax.”
“Can I tempt you with a beer? I want to talk to you about Oktoberfest and get your thoughts.”
“Okay, fine. But only if I can sit in the comfy chairs,” I say, gesturing to the large leather club chairs clustered in the corner of the taproom.
“Of course. Those are my favorite. Take a load off. You’ve earned it. We had a great night.” And just like that he was back to being sweet, friendly Liam, not broody weird Liam. This guy was going to give me whiplash.
10
Liam
I don’t knowwhy I was keeping her here. She deserved to go home. But I wanted more time with her. And I didn’t want to snap at her like I did earlier. I needed to make amends for last night. How could I assume she wanted to date me? I wasn’t that guy. I wasn’t a cocky asshole who assumed all women wanted a piece of me. My mother got in my head and I said something boneheaded. She seemed like she had forgiven me tonight, but I wanted to make sure.
Cece slumped into the chair and undid her ponytail. I was mesmerized as her wild curls cascaded over her back. I tried to hide my smile. “What can I pour you?”
“The raspberry sour, please. I love it.”
“I could tell. You sold the shit out of this beer tonight.”
“It’s just like nothing I’ve ever tasted before.”
“Well, thank you for that compliment.” I winked at her, biting my tongue to keep the “that’s what she said” from flying out of my mouth like a total perv.
