“Jeff and Sandy,” the woman corrected.
“Oh, sorry.” To the crowd, I grinned. “Didn’t Jeff and Sandy kill it, everyone?” In the true sense of kill. Polite clapping ensued, and I waved impatiently to stop them. “Okay, folks. That was the last of our couples tonight. It’s time to vote. Be sure to use the ballots on your table to choose your favorite duo. If they win, they’ll share a thousand-dollar prize… and you all know the rest.” I lifted a palm as the entire room yelled, “Free drinks for a year!”
“Correct… provided they prove they are still dating after thirty days, and every month after!” While the room erupted in chatter, I cut my eyes toward the bar, only to find that the gorgeous blonde was gone. Trying to hide my disappointment, I wrapped things up, saying, “The winners will be announced on our website tomorrow. Good luck to all those who participated in Kismet Karaoke.”
I jumped off the stage, still bummed the blonde was gone, and headed to the bar. After greeting some of the regulars that I knew well and dodging some of the women I’d had a short thing with, and who wanted more, I announced to my main bartender, Bobby, “I’m taking my break.” He gave me a salute as I grabbed a bottle of champagne and a nonalcoholic seltzer with lime.
More interruptions came from customers while I backtracked toward the stage to where my brothers sat with their girls. Jade, the preggo, and Amy, who was newly engaged, happened to have been best friends. That now made the quartet thick as thieves and me the outsider.
“Time to celebrate,” I said, placing the bottle of bubbly and seltzer down before snatching a chair from a nearby table. I filled my brothers’ and Amy’s glasses and poured Jade her drink.
“The attendance is unbelievable, Brad,” Jade said in her sweet way.
“Yeah… give away some money and free booze, and all hell breaks loose.” I had expected the crowd based on the success the first time we held this contest.
“Speaking of, you owe me and Jade many cocktails for winning this thing two years ago.”
I glanced at his beer, the champagne beside it. “Have you ever paid when you come here?”
“This is true.”
“These people aren’t here for the prize alone. Love is definitely in the air,” Nate said, putting his two cents in. When seeing the exaggerated roll of my eyes, the fucker leaned over to kiss his girl for my benefit.
Once they separated, Amy gave me a toothless smile while Nate full on grinned. Asshole.
There was a time I’d had a thing for my future sister-in-law. In my defense, it had to have been her profession as an erotic romance author that intrigued me. She was a brunette, and I preferred blondes. She did have a smoking-hot body, though. But the main reason was that if she could write filthy shit, then I suspected she could do filthy shit.
Regardless, it never went anywhere. It couldn’t have been my looks, because she ended up with a duplicate. It had to have been my winning personality that she saw as a threat. In any case, my brother put a move on her, probably to spite me, and I had to train myself to stop envisioning her naked… which was hard as shit. Again, in my defense, I had been doing that for two years before they even hooked up.
“Well, better you all than me,” I said, grabbing the bottle and lifting it. “Congratulations on the many more sleepless nights coming your way…” I directed to Max and Jade. “And here’s hoping you two don’t become a statistic,” I then said to Nate and Amy. While four pairs of eyes stared at me, I raised the bottle and took a long swig. But when the rest of them didn’t follow through, I said, “It only brings luck if you actually drink.”
Max frowned. “You call that a toast, jackass?”
“Just keeping it real.”
***
My brothers and the girls were long gone, but the party kept on going. I’d been so busy at the bar I’d barely had time to take a piss. The kitchen was also overwhelmed with orders now that the munchies had kicked in for most of my customers. And with a few hours left before closing, the crowd showed no signs of calling it a night.
That didn’t matter. I had off the next day and could sleep in. When a small lull hit, I walked down to Bobby’s end of the bar, smacked his shoulder, and said, “I’ll be back.”
“While you’re back there, I need more grenadine.”
“You got it.”
But before I could beeline for the bathroom and then the stockroom, a sexy, raspy voice asked, “Can I please get a lemon drop martini?”
I twisted around, prepared to delegate her order to Bobby until I saw it was the blonde wearing turquoise. As I stared at her like a creep, full, pouty lips pressed together just as a line creased between her brows and she followed up with, “Hello?”
“Oh yeah… coming right up.”
Bobby came beside me and said, “I got this, boss.”
“No, it’s fine.” My gaze flipped between the task at hand and her, while she looked everywhere but at me. Once I topped her cocktail with a lemon peel, I placed it on a napkin but kept it on my side of the bar. “I haven’t seen you here before. New in town?”
Those damn lips quirking up into a smirk caught my attention before she said, “You know everyone who comes in?”
“Yep. It’s a talent, and my job as owner. I’m Brad.” Our eyes tethered, and I swear she had magical powers. Usually it took a touch, a kiss, an invite to catch my libido’s attention. This chick accomplished that with her eyes. Fucking mesmerizing. There had to have been six different shades of blue in them.
“Um… can I have my drink?” I slowly slid the glass toward her and then shamelessly watched as she perched her perfect pink lips on the rim and sipped.
Fuck. Me.
Having forgotten the need to pee, and even Bobby’s request for grenadine, I leaned my forearms on the polished wood and stared. The more I did, the rosier her cheeks got. This was a good girl, shy even… a challenge and major turn-on for me.
“What’s your name?”
“Sheena.”
“Do you have a last name, Sheena?”
“Yes.” But that was all I got as she drank more of her martini.
“Can I get your number?”
When she dropped her head and dug through her purse, I assumed it was to retrieve a card or something to write her contact info on. Instead, her pink-tinted nails pulled out a twenty-dollar bill and dropped it on the bar. “Thank you.” She swiveled on her stool, prepared to leave.
“Wait. Did you not like the drink?”
“It’s a bit too strong for me.” The narrowed gaze I received gave her admission a double meaning. And while I fumbled with something a bit more clever than my last line, I watched her slip off the barstool and stroll away. Long legs in painted-on denim, carried by high heels that would look amazing wrapped around my back, and a spectacular ass all put me into a trance. The farther away she got, the harder my internal devil tapped my shoulder to chase her.
“Bobby, take over,” I said hastily, pushing my way past those who refused to call it a night. I ignored my name being called and caught the heavy wooden door before it slammed shut behind her. There she stood at the curb, poised and ready to hail a cab, when I came to stand beside her. “Why the quick exit?”