Page 4 of Cocktail
“I’m the Director of Equities at the Chicago Board of Trade.”
Matthew nodded and she continued. “Well, he started talking about how it was cute that I had such powerful job.” She put air quotes around the word “cute” and her striking hazel eyes lit with an indignant fire. “And that when he marries, he wants his wife to feel good about staying at home. I mean I’m all for women staying at home if that’s what thewomanwants. Not because some guy thinks it’s still 1950 and a woman should be waiting for her husband with a cocktail in hand and meatloaf on the table.”
“You don’t think a person should do nice things for someone they love?” Matthew asked curiously.
“No, that’s not it. Being nice and doing something out of love is different.Antiqueluvr78thought that this was something to be expected on a daily basis. A gift like that should be a two-way street. I make you meatloaf one night, you give me the best foot rub ever or fresh cut flowers another night.”
Matthew started preparing a drink for her and then laid a twisted orange peel across the top of the glass. With a grin, he pushed the glass toward her.
“What’s this?” She accepted it, eyeing the brown liquid openly curious.
“An Old-Fashioned in honor ofwhatshisname?”
“Antiqueluvr78,” Aubree said with a giggle.
“This is bourbon, a sugar cube, bitters and a thick cube of ice.”
“Wow.” She took a sip. “Not bad at all.” Her smile was infectious, and he couldn’t resist his own grin.
“SoAntiqueluvr78. Is that a screen name or something?” He leaned on the bar as she held up her phone so he could see the screen.
The bubbly words Meet Cute appeared on the screen and her profile popped up a second later.
“Sailorgurl18?” He looked at her profile name. There weren’t any pictures, just info about her life.
“I like to go sailing on Lake Michigan. I grew up in Maine around boats. My dad was a fisherman. He died two years ago and when I’m out sailing on the lake, it reminds me of him and I feel closer to him?” She blushed wildly. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be pouring my heart out to a stranger.”
Fuck it, the woman was killing him. Matthew extended his hand. “Hello, I’m Matthew Lawson, born in Perth, attended school at Cambridge in England, then the London school of Economics. Now… I bartend and part of that is listening to customers.”
Aubree smiled, still embarrassed as she shook his hand. “Aubree Cole. I went to Princeton. Born in Maine and I love to sail.”
“There, now we aren’t strangers.” Matthew nodded at her nearly finished drink. “Want another?”
She thought about that for a minute. “Yeah, why not. Surprise me.” She settled deeper into the bar stool and watched him get to work.
Matthew muddled a strawberry in a shaker, added some strawberry and vanilla-infused vodka, a little St. Germaine, lemon juice, and some fancy habanero bitters before shaking and straining everything into a martini glass. He then topped the mixture with a splash of sprite and edible rose petals before sliding the glass toward her across the bar.
“Meet the Ms. Monroe cocktail.”
Aubree giggled as she picked up the bright reddish-pink drink and sipped. “Flirty with a dash of heat.” She licked her lips and Matthew’s body went hard all over. What the hell was wrong with all these men on the Meet Cute app? Aubree was a man’s wet dream. She was curvy, fucking gorgeous, smart, and most importantly, she was real and approachable. It was rare in attractive women. Most beautiful women he knew were guarded. They were used to people preying on them for their looks, so they tended to lock down their hearts and act more reserved. Aubree was much more open.
“I really like this.” She drank another sip. “How did you end up a bartender?”
Matthew could hear her curiosity. “I love making drinks. I love helping people who might need a friend.”
He didn’t tell her that he was a part owner of this bar. He wanted her to see him for who he was: a man who like to serve drinks. If being a bartender wasn’t enough, then he knew what kind of person she was.
“So, you followed your passion. I like that,” Aubree said after another drink of her cocktail.
“Exactly.” From the corner of his eye, he saw a man waiting for him at the end of the bar. “Hang on.” He left her, hoping this time she’d be there when he returned, and saw to the other customer. He didn’t dare look back at her, but the heat across his skin made him think she was watching him as he poured and served. When he finally turned toward her, she was finishing the drink he’d made her.
“Thanks, Matthew. You made tonight much better.” She smiled at him and for a second, he forgot how to breathe.
“You’re leaving?” Matthew knew he sounded like a hopeful kid and not a grown man in his mid-thirties.
“Yeah, I’m calling it a night. I only live a block away, but I don’t want to be too inebriated to walk home.”
“Let me call you a taxi,” he offered instantly. It was a common thing to call for a cab when a customer had a little too much to drink.
