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I didn’t see Hazel anywhere. I turned to the bouncer. “I’m looking for a friend of mine.”
“Can’t help you with that, buddy,” his deep baritone and dry delivery told me he could care less.
I straightened. This man was clearly mistaking who the alpha was in this conversation. “She would’ve just arrived. Blue-green peacoat. Blonde hair.”
He shook his head no and narrowed his eyes. “Doesn’t sound familiar.”
I clenched my teeth, fighting back a growl of frustration. “Forget it, I’ll find her myself.”
He shrugged.
There was no way this Randy Orton look alike didn’t see Hazel. I was intrigued as I tried to puzzle out why he’d lie. I strode to the bar, not bothering to take a seat as I continued to peer into the crowd.
Where the hell was she?
“What can I get you?” a sultry voice asked from behind.
I didn’t turn around. “Macallan neat,” I snapped, without pausing my search of the small crowd. She had to be here somewhere.
A handful of people sat at the tables, sipping drinks and eating appetizers. The bar was only half full. I held back my sneer. It was either a slow night or as good as this place got. Not like my restaurants and bars that had a waitlist to get inside.
My gaze bounced between the tables as though Hazel would magically appear and the subpar decorating would disappear.
The slap of a glass hitting the bar with a loud clunk sounded behind me. I turned and picked it up. “Thanks.”
“Anything else I can get you?” The bartender gave me a sexy half smile and pushed the ridiculous Santa hat she wore higher on her forehead. While she was attractive enough, the long-legged brunette did nothing for me. My dick didn’t even twitch. Which was a damn shame. She was gorgeous.
I blamed Hazel for my current problem. Ever since I’d seen that dating profile it was like a switch flipped. It didn’t matter how gorgeous they were, no one else—but my curvy assistant—appealed to me.
“I’m good,” I answered.
“You sure, handsome? You seem to be looking awfully hard for something.”
I flicked my gaze back to her, wishing for even a twitch of attraction. Nothing. Damn it. “I’m looking for a friend. She just ran in here a few seconds before I arrived.”
The bartender leaned on top of the shellacked wooden bar top and gave a throaty chuckle. “You’ll need to give me more than that.”
“She’s wearing a green dress and turquoise coat.” It seemed appropriate to leave out the ‘fuck me’ heels she had on.
The bartender’s face lit up with a huge smile stretched across her lips. “Ah, you must be talking about Hazel. She’ll be right out. I’m Niki by the way.”
Now I wondered how often my assistant came here if she was on a first name basis with the bartender. I didn’t like the unease that crept through me and made me question what else I didn’t know about her.
Niki looked at me expectantly. “You don’t seem the type Hazel would be friends with.” The chatty bartender continued when I didn’t respond.
“I see.” If I didn’t need information about what the hell was going on here I would’ve waved her off already. I wasn’t here to make friends.
She laughed and started swiping at the bar with a rag. “And Hazel usually tells us when she’s invited a guest.”
I threw back the rest of my drink.
“Another?” she asked, already getting the bottle ready to pour.
I gave her a stiff nod. “It was a last minute thing.” So many questions shot through my head, ones that if I asked would clearly tell Niki that Hazel did not invite me tonight.
“She was running a little behind when she got here. Once she drops her stuff off in the back she’ll be right out.” She moved off to the other end of the bar to help another customer.
Ice slid through my veins. Hazel wasn’t on a date. She must work here. If she needed money that badly why didn’t she come to me?
