Instead, I offered a polite half-smile. “Yeah, I think you might be right.”
I flicked on my phone again, hoping the guy would get the message I wasn’t interested—but no such luck. He climbed/half stumbled onto the barstool beside me, a ripe, pungent odor wafting off him as he did. The mix of alcohol and body odor was strong with this one.
“Haven’t seen ya ’round here before,” he said as he gripped the bar top to steady himself, and it was all I could do not to ask if he could see anything right now. “What’s ya name?”
I thought about lying, because how would he ever know? But even with that knowledge, I couldn’t seem to bring myself do it.
Thanks, Mom, for that heavily ingrained sense of guilt.
“It’s, uh, Ryan, and you’re right. I haven’t been here before.”
“Figured.” He leaned over and flashed a seriously inebriated smile. “Would’ve remembered ya. ’Specially in those fancy clothes.”
Yeah, I didn’t doubt it. I’d dressed for a club, not a pub, tonight. So where almost everyone in this place was in some version of jeans, a shirt, and a cap—I was not.
Tonight, I’d gone corporate sexy. My friends always joked that I was probably born in a suit, but hey, I knew what worked for me, and my fitted black pants, tailored button-down, and suspenders were always a hit. Especially when I let the buttons of my shirt open for a quick sneak peek. But as I sat here now, I was seriously reconsidering the coat in my lap.
“Can I get you another?”
The bartender’s voice was a welcome interruption, and this time when I looked at him, I definitely caught a smirk.
“Maybe a double?”
So, apparently, I was the entertainment tonight. “Yeah, a double would be great.”
“You can put it on my tab,” my unwanted companion slurred.
“If I thought you’d actually pay it, Mitch, I would.”
The bartender topped up my tumbler and placed it back on the bar, and before I could beg him to stay or send for help, he was gone.
Mitch scooted his stool in a little closer to me. “So… You were tellin’ me about these fancy clothes of yours.”
Great. This night just kept getting better and better.
Chapter 2
Jameson
I SHOULD’VE STAYED home.
I should’ve popped open a cold one and stayed my ass home. But ten minutes in my empty apartment tonight had felt like ten hours—I was restless and had to get out. So this was where I’d ended up, in my usual booth at Jon’s watching Mitch once again prove to everyone why he was single and likely always would be.
I’d seen it coming a mile away—from the second GQ stepped into the bar and his friend ditched him, Mitch had zeroed in like a shark circling its prey. It made sense; the newbies were the only people in this place who didn’t know what a train wreck Mitch was. But two seconds in his presence usually cleared that up. Not to mention the fragrant scent he always carried with him.
It seemed GQ was having a difficult time getting away, though. He was on his third drink, and had shrugged Mitch’s hand off half a dozen times at this stage—not that I was keeping count. Wasn’t my problem. But it was a hell of a lot more entertaining than sitting at home alone.
“How you doin’ over here?”
Jon’s question shifted my attention from the shitshow that was happening at his bar to where he’d stopped by my booth with his shoulder up against the worn wood, his eyes seeing way more than they should.
I’d been coming here since I was old enough to drink. I’d tried the year earlier, but Jon had tossed me out on my ass. But ever since I hit twenty-one, I’d been a staple at this bar. It was a place where I could both be myself and drink my problems away at the same time—and growing up on this side of town meant I had a whole truckload of problems.
“All good. Not sure that new customer buying your liquor tonight would say the same. Might want to go back and keep an eye on him.”
Jon shook his head and let out a sigh. “Fuckin’ Mitch.”
“Yeah.”
“Same shit, different night with him. You’d think he’d get sick and tired of the constant rejection.”
I scoffed. “He might if he cared—or remembered it the next morning.”
“Good point. That’s why I came over. The kid could do with some help.”
The kid? GQ didn’t look like any kid I knew, and there was no way I was going over there. But as I swallowed back my scotch, I saw him nearly fall off his seat in an effort to get away from the hand that had just landed on his shoulder.
Jesus, was it really so much to ask for one night where I could turn my brain off and not worry about anyone other than myself? The last thing I wanted to do was get in the middle of this. But I also couldn’t sit here and watch it much longer.
“On a scale of one to ten, how bad is it?”
“I mean, I don’t see him coming back next week, if that’s what you’re askin’.” Jon shrugged. “But I’m not sure that’s all on Mitch. Newbie doesn’t seem to be from around here, you know?”
Yeah, I knew. The guy looked more Gold Coast than anywhere remotely close to here, and he stood out like the bright, shiny object he was.
Fuck. I really should’ve stayed home.
I turned my attention back to the awkward scene, and Jon did the same.
“You really gonna just sit here and let him deal with Mitch all night?”
“As opposed to?”
Jon frowned. “You going over there.”
“And doing what?”
“Saving him.” Jon crossed his arms. “Isn’t that what you do?”
“If there was a raging fire, yeah.”
“Well, Mitch could be considered a hot mess.”
“No.” I shook my head. “No way. This is not my problem.”
Jon reached for my empty glass. “That’s harsh, even for you.”
“Look, if I go over there, I’ll be stuck talking to the guy all night.”
“And that would be so terrible. Tell me, how do you function out there in the real world? You know, where you have to talk to others.”
“Just fine. I talk to who I want, when I want, and like it that way.”
“You sure about that? I know you’ve been dealt a shit hand and all, but maybe don’t write off the entire world just yet.”
I glared at Jon, his droll comment reminding me that he knew all my secrets—even the painful ones. I indicated the glass. “You come over here to talk about my shining personality or to get me a refill?”
“How ’bout this? You go over there and save the kid, and the rest of your drinks are on me tonight.”
That offer would’ve been much more enticing if I was in the mood to really knock some back. But since I’d driven my bike down here, it wasn’t like he was going to have to shell out all that much.
“His too?” I asked. When Jon frowned, I aimed my eyes over at GQ. “If I go over there, I ain't paying for shit.”
“Asshole.”
“That a yes?”
“Fine, yes. Just go help him out, would you? Last thing I need is him calling the cops down here.”