“Stop judging yourself in the mirror, Steph. Let’s go!” Sara yelled at me through the door.
The resort had several pools, but only one of them had the swim-up bar she’d been going on about. In the center was the bar with a circular white roof that stretched far enough for shade. There were stools inside the water around the perimeter, all of them occupied. There were so many people in the pool, they were bumping elbows. I reached for my dress pocket and grimaced. No pockets meant no Tums.
“Hey, you go ahead, Sara. I’m going to grab a drink from the other bar.”
The one with a single customer.
She cocked an eyebrow. “They serve the same stuff, I’m sure.”
“True. This one has more…breathing room?”
She smiled. “Say no more. Come on in when you’re ready. I’m sure I’ll have new friends to introduce to you at that point.”
She wasn’t kidding. The woman’s social skills were like watching a choreographed dance routine. Mine was more like a stand-up comedy headed by Ben Stein.
“Will do.” I took a seat at the bar, making sure to keep several stools between the male patron and me.
“Kalimera,” the bartender greeted.
I smiled. “Hello.”
The bartender slapped a cocktail napkin in front of me. “What can I get you?” He asked, his voice laced with a Greek accent.
“I hadn’t gotten that far yet. Hmm. Mai tai?” I tapped my finger against my lips. “No. Strawberry daiquiri. Or maybe…”
“You look like a piña colada kind of woman,” the tender said with a sparkling grin that made my cheeks blush.
“Yes. Perfect. Thank you.” I drummed my hands on the bar top, turning in my stool to take in the scenery.
A mysterious black cloud of fog-like smoke seeped around my feet. I furrowed my brow, following its trail. It flowed from the man sitting near me. Colors of dirty gray and varying shades of brown skirted over his arms. He had both hands wrapped around his tumbler of amber-colored liquid. His head held low, causing his chin-length dirty blonde hair to shield his face. He was dressed in head-to-toe black in a button-up short-sleeved shirt and pants, like Johnny Cash going to the beach. A hint of a tattoo peeked out from his sleeve.
He caught sight of me staring, and the fog sucked in, disappearing as if it’d never been there at all. Maybe it hadn’t.
“Here you are, miss,” the bartender said, snapping me back to reality and making me jump. He snickered. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.”
I wrapped my hand around the tall glass and pulled it toward me. Not used to the lack of an eye shield from my glasses, I almost poked my eye with the straw. “It’s no big deal. I’m just a skittish ninny.”
The look he gave me was well deserved. I was sure the last time I’d heard the word “ninny” was from my great-grandma. Food needed to go in my mouth pronto to shut myself up. The glass had a decorated stick complete with an orange and pineapple slice. I opted for the pineapple, brought it to my lips, and winced when cold liquid pooled in my lap.
Lovely. A piña colada stain. Precisely what my ensemble was missing.
I stood on the rung of my stool and reached for napkins near Johnny Cash. Our hands brushed as I pulled the napkin away. A dozen indecipherable whispers flooded my ears, blocking out the sounds from the pool, the birds, everything else around me. I froze mid-sit.
His chin lifted, revealing eyes that matched the color of his whiskey, squared jawline sprinkled with a light beard, slanted straight nose, and thin lips.
“Sorry,” I stuttered. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
Okay. I really was a ninny.
I sat back down and furiously dabbed at the stain.
He didn’t respond and only moved so much as to finish the contents of his drink.
“Another whiskey?” The tender asked him.
“Mhm,” he said, sliding the glass across the bar.
Convinced the stain would remain a stain, I balled the napkin in my palm. “So, uh, whiskey your drink of choice?” Heat flowed up my neck.
He slowly turned to look at me with a cock of his head. He smirked, and a small dimple formed at the corner of his mouth. “Listen, darlin’. I want to be left alone.”
A southern accent. I was not expecting that.
“A resort with hundreds of people doesn’t seem quite the best place to be alone.” I stirred my drink, unable to take my eyes off him.
The bartender returned with his drink, and Johnny brought it to his lips, pausing before taking a sip. He peered at me through the strands of his hair that’d fallen over his gaze. “This place relaxes me,” he said in a clipped tone.
His hair gave him a further sense of mystery, disguising the furrow in his brow, and the intent in his eyes.
“I hear the spa is pretty relaxing. Though I wouldn’t know, considering I’ve never been to one.” I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the bar top.
His jaw clenched, popping at the corners. “The spa doesn’t serve whiskey.” He shook the glass in his hand, making the ice cubes clank, before taking a sip.
My God. Sawyer from the show Lost. He looked. Like. Sawyer. My stomach tightened. I concentrated my stare on my drink instead. “For being in paradise, you’re awfully grumpy.”
He turned his chin, dropping his eyes to scan over my bare legs before catching my gaze unabashedly. “I reckon I’ve got a lot to be grumpy about.”
“Try me.” I sat up straighter.
He sighed, setting the glass down on the bar top. “My wife of over a thousand years left me for another man. A lesser man.”
“I had a relationship that felt that long once.” I snorted. “But a thousand years? Wow. Tainted Love?”
He glared at me. “What?”
“Tainted Love.”
Silence.
“It’s a song by Soft Cell?”
His scowl deepened.
I gulped, tapping my finger against my thigh. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that.” I should’ve stopped at that point, but something in my gut wouldn’t let me. “What’s your name?”
He took a long swig of his drink. “Hades.” He said it so simply. Like he told me his name was Bob.
“Hades? You were named after the god of the Underworld?” I bit my lip to keep from laughing.
“One and only.”
“Wow. Your parents were a little cruel, huh?”
A fire lit in his eyes when he looked at me, the tiniest of smirks creasing into the corner of his lips. “You have no idea.”
My heart thumped against my chest, his stare turning my stomach into a series of knots.
“You seem nervous.” The smirk continued as he squinted at me over the rim of his glass.
I gulped. “Nervous? What reason would I have to be nervous?”
He dragged a hand through his hair, and I bit back a whimper. “I don’t know, but your chest is getting all splotchy.” He pointed.
Slapping my hands over my chest, I hopped off my stool. “Well, I’ll uh—leave you alone. Enjoy your whiskey.”
I turned to walk away, but a string from my coverup caught on the stool, yanking me back.
Hades leaned forward with the ease of a jaguar and plucked the string free. “I didn’t get your name.”