Page 7 of The Hookup
She took a sip, “Hmmm.” She licked her lips suggestively. “It’s delicious. Not too sweet, and not overly alcoholic. Nice.Dangerously nice.Have one with me,” she said, her French manicured nails circling slowly around the rip of the glass.
He shuddered involuntarily, trying to rein in his response. “I shouldn’t.” He didn’t like to drink on duty, even though he could, because he wasn’t supposed to be on duty. He had simply chosen to be behind the bar because it meant he didn’t get hassled. From behind the safety of the bar enclosure, he could operate in stealth-mode, at a great vantage point, and could easily see and hear most things. It was amazing how much information and secrets people willingly gave up, and how loose their tongues became after a few drinks.
“Please,” she begged, squeezing her shoulders and pushing her breasts together. His heart missed a beat, and the visual created a stirring below.
Hell. Why not? It was past midnight, and it had been a long day. Everything had gone well, and, importantly, Tobias had been pleased with the service.
“A drink, then,” he said, pouring himself a scotch.
“No Slow Comfortable Screw Against The Wall for you?” she asked, her eyes falling to his arms, and trailing along his tattoos.
“I prefer a scotch,” he replied, and poured himself a small glass. “Cheers,” he declared, lifting his glass to hers.
“To Savannah, and Tobias, the happy, happy, happy couple,” she declared.
“Amen.”
“To all the happy couples everywhere,” she added.
He paused, then followed suit. “To all the happy couples everywhere.” If she believed that shit then who was he to argue?
“Are you one half of a happy couple?” she asked. And there it was.The question.The one he got asked almost every night he was at the bar.
“No.” At some point during any of his conversations, this question always reared its head. Women always seemed curious about his status.
“You must be freaking kidding me,” she shrieked in surprise. “I don’t believe you.”
He forced a smile, almost gave a half-shrug of his shoulders, and noticed her gaze drift over to his biceps and stay there a few seconds.
“How come?” she asked, clearing her throat, forcing her gaze to his eyes. “How comes a good looking guy like you isn’t with anybody?”
“I could say the same about you.” Not because he was interested, but because, what sort of answer could he give to a question like that? He gave her the once over as he lifted the glass to his lips again. Her honey blonde hair framed her face and hung in waves around her shoulders, and yet her eyebrows were a darker shade. He’d bet she wasn’t blonde downthere. Not a natural blonde.
She was obviously not a shrinking wall flower and it was no wonder that she’d caught Xavier’s eye yesterday. If anyone would have been perfect for Xavier, it would have been this woman. He wondered what had gone wrong that Xavier and Kay weren’t even hanging out in the same part of the beach together.
Except now the guy was going after Izzy.
“I don’t have a good track record with guys. It never lasts. Or, it never leads to anything.” This was the problem with being the guy who served drinks. It made for being a psychotherapist. The keeper of everyone’s drunken secrets and mistakes.
“I don’t believe you,” he told her. Now he was the one flirting, not because he wanted anything to happen, but because he was curious. Some people attracted love, or lust, and some seemed to repel it. He didn’t for one minute believe that Kay found it hard to get a guy.
“Why not? It’s true. I’m not saying it to get your sympathy.”
“I never implied that you were trying to elicit my sympathy,” he said, a flash of real sympathy in his voice. She was pretty, and she had a good figure. An image of the Marilyn Monroe poster in his bedroom during his teen years flashed into his head. Kay might not have been wearing a white halter neck nor had her skirt flying up, but there was something Monroe-esque about her, especially when her breasts looked as if they might tumble out of her dress any moment now.
“Well, it’s true.”
A group of people suddenly filled the bar area and he didn’t want to keep them waiting, even though a couple of the other bartenders were serving.
He looked at her apologetically. “I’m sorry, but we’re getting busy again.” It didn’t seem right to walk away now when she seemed to be confiding in him, but he was running a bar, and serving the customers was his main priority. He threw a final glance at her cleavage, then looked away. It wasn’t often a woman caught his attention like that. Something about the sultry night air on this damn island was getting to him. “I’d better tend to these people.”
She nodded, and took another sip of her cocktail.
It was all hands on deck. People were making the most of the wedding reception, and Tobias’s generosity. Out here in the sultry heat, under the stars and nestled in the Fijian archipelago, Tobias and Savannah’s wedding guests forgot about their jobs and their busy, stressful lives. They were clearly still in the partying mood, and it didn’t matter what time it was. This party was going to go on until the early hours of the morning.
Being a sober guy working behind the bar allowed him to see people at their most raw and vulnerable form. Alcohol did that. It stripped away people’s layers and exposed their true selves.
As Savannah’s cousin had done.
