Van sets my vodka Sprite in front of me, and I give him a waifish smile because he’s hot and fun to flirt with.
“What would I do without you?” I tease, batting my eyelashes and loving the way he blushes and rolls his eyes.
“Find someone else to pour your drinks?” he guesses.
“Oh baby, no one pours them like you do,” I purr, and he chuckles.
“Go find someone who isn’t married to flirt with,” he says sternly, but the twinkle in his eye lets me know he loves the attention.
“Fine,” I say with a sigh. “Tell Rafe I said hi, and my offer for a threesome is still on the table.”
Van barks out a laugh and shakes his head. Sometimes Rafe comes to hang out at the bar during Van’s shifts, and he is absolutely adorable and just as much fun to flirt with as Van is. Another customer flags him down, and I set some cash on the bar to cover the drink and a nice tip. I’m about to head back over to my friends when I notice Everett looking at me out of the corner of his eye as he tries to pretend his drink is endlessly fascinating. I think Mia and Jordy can live without me for a few minutes.
I slide onto the stool beside him and lift my glass to my lips.
“New in town?” I ask casually.
“Nope, born and raised actually,” he answers.
Interesting. I know I’m a nosy bitch, but I’m dying to pry. I shouldn’t, he’s entitled to his privacy. It’s definitely none of my business.
“So, just new to Jack’s?” Damn, I almost made it.
He lifts his drink to his mouth and takes a gulp, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, his tongue darting out to capture a stray droplet off his lip when he lowers the glass. Ungh.
“I normally go to Wooley’s,” he answers.
Double interesting. Maybe there was a breakup then. His ex probably got their regular bar in the split.
“Welcome then. I’ve been coming here for years, and it’s a great bar. Lots of nice people, and the drinks aren’t overpriced, not much more you could ask for out of a bar,” I ramble, taking another sip from my drink to shut my stupid mouth up.
The corner of his lip quirks up in an uncertain sort of half smile. “Thanks. I’m not sure I’ll become a regular, I’m kind of…trying it out,” he confesses.
“I get it.”
I glance over my shoulder to make sure my friends aren’t terribly bereft without me, and I’m unsurprised to find them both making vulgar gestures in my direction. Sometimes it’s hard to remember why I love them. I give them the finger and turn my attention back to Everett.
“So, what do you do for a living?”
“You don’t have to do that,” he says.
“Do what?” I cock my head curiously, pulling my eyebrows together.
“You saw me acting nervous in the parking lot and now you think I need a friend, right?” he guesses. “I appreciate it, but you don’t need to worry about me. I really am just here for a drink.”
“Wow, I clearly need to work on my flirting if it’s coming off as pity,” I joke. Yes, I figured he could use a friendly welcome after seeing how nervous he was outside. Would I also like to take him home and lick his abs, among other things? Also, yes.
“Sorry,” he says, giving me another one of those cute half-smiles. “I am so far outside of my comfort zone right now it’s not even funny.”
“Fuck comfort zones. When was the last time something memorable happened inside of a comfort zone?” I challenge.
A surprised laugh escapes his lips, and his half smile is cranked up to a full smile, and damn is he even more gorgeous when he smiles for real.
“You have a point there,” he agrees.
“I’m a genius,” I agree. “Listen, I won’t bug you if you’d rather be alone.”
He looks down at his glass, swirling it absently. “Construction,” he says.
“What?”
“You asked what I do for a living,” he explains. “I own a construction company.”
“Yeah, I can see that.” I nod and drain the rest of my drink, gesturing to Van for one more. “Now, when you’re all hot and sweaty, using your big, hard hammer to pound something, are you usually shirtless, or is that only how it works in porn?”
He snorts into his drink, sputtering a cough as he sets his glass down and reaches for a napkin. “I don’t think OSHA would approve of being shirtless on a work site,” he answers once he stops coughing.
I sigh dramatically. “I feel so lied to. If you can’t trust porn, who can you trust?”
“The eternal question,” he agrees solemnly. “Watson is an interesting name.”
“Ugh, I know. My mom was obsessed with Sherlock Holmes, obviously, and she vowed to name her first child Holmes. She had a hard time getting pregnant and eventually her doctor told her it wasn’t going to happen. She was devastated, of course, and my dad, trying to be nice, went out and bought her a cat and named it Holmes as a way to cheer her up. A few months later she found out she was pregnant with her precious little miracle baby, yours truly, and lucky for me the name Holmes was already being used by a cat, so I ended up with Watson instead. I’ve never been able to decide if I’m grateful for that or not.”
He chuckles. “That’s quite the story.”
“Sorry, I have a bad habit of word vomiting. You can tell me to shut up.”
“I don’t mind,” he assures me before frowning, I’m about to ask what’s wrong when he pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Sorry, one sec,” he says, answering the phone in a low voice. I try not to listen in, I’m not that much of a nosy bitch. He talks to whoever’s on the other end for a minute or so before hanging up. “Sorry about that, but I have to run.”
“Oh.” I try not to sound too disappointed. He tosses some money down on the bar and looks at me expectantly for a few seconds. Is he waiting for me to ask for his number or trying to work up the courage to ask for mine?
“Maybe I’ll see you around,” he says. “You know, if I come back.”
“You should definitely come back. I’m here most Monday nights, and sometimes on the weekends.” Damn, that makes me sound like a drunk, right? Or at the very least, someone with a limited social life.
“Cool,” he says. He slides off his stool and strides out of the bar while I slump forward with my forehead on my arms and curse myself for not getting his number.
Once I’m finished cursing myself, I take my drink and return to my friends.
“Strike out?” Jordy asks sympathetically.
“No,” I answer with an indignant sniff. “He had to leave.”
“Right ‘had to leave’,” Mia teases, making air quotes with her fingers.
“Shut the fuck up,” I say with a laugh. “Ugh, he was hot, right.” I look back over my shoulder longingly at where he had been sitting. “Like, ridiculously hot.”
“He was hot,” Jordy agrees. “Did you at least get his number?”
“You know, I don’t appreciate your intrusive and frankly rude questions.”
“So, no then?” Mia guesses.
“He said he might come back sometime,” I say hopefully.