If heat had a color, it would’ve been the shade of red crawling up her neck.
The blonde noticed too, of course. Because of course she did. Lydia walked up to the bar like she’d been waiting all week for this moment. “Is Callum around?”
“Nope. Still running some errand.”
Melanie still hadn’t said a word.
She just stood there, arms crossed, scanning the room like she was assessing fire exits or deciding who to strangle first.
“Want me to get you something?” I asked finally, because silence between us was worse than any argument.
Her eyes snapped to mine. “No, thanks. I’m good.”
The blonde smirked over the rim of her glass. “You sure? He makes a mean peppermint martini.”
Melanie didn’t even look at her. “I’m not much for peppermint.”
Lies. It was one of her favorites.
“I am,” the woman said, tilting her glass toward me. “But you already knew that, right, Mr. Bartender?”
I blinked. “Uh… right. Because you ordered one the other night.”
She laughed softly. “Relax, bartender. I’m teasing.”
Melanie’s jaw clenched.
“So, you here for the festival again?” I asked, directing the question at the blonde mostly to diffuse the tension.
“Maybe,” she said, tracing her finger along the edge of her glass. “Or maybe I was hoping to run into familiar company.”
Melanie’s eyebrows shot up. “Wow. Subtle.”
The woman smiled sweetly. “Small towns, right? Everyone knows everyone.”
“Not everyone,” Melanie said coolly. “Some of us are just passing through.”
There was that tone. It was the one that could slice through glass. It hit me dead center, and before I could think of a way to steer this back into safe territory, Lydia piped up, voice bright and cluelessly strategic.
“Well, while you’repassing through,maybe you could give me a tip or two with this cranky bartender,” the blonde cooed.
Melanie’s glare could’ve melted a snowbank. “I’ve got nothing. I barely know him.”
I coughed into my sleeve, mostly to hide the grin that was threatening to break loose.
“It seems like there’s history between you two,” the tourist said, glancing between me and Melanie.
“Nah, not history. But he is history in my book.” Melanie shrugged as the blonde eyed me carefully. “Like I said, I don’t know him that well.”
“I wouldn’t say that’s true, Mel. You’ve explored every part of me and come back for more.” My eyes stayed fastened on Mel’s. There was no way I would let this escalate between the blonde and me while Mel let her imagination run, and the only thing I could think of was to claim her publicly.
“I…uh.” Melanie flushed and glanced at the jukebox before turning back to me, and I loved every second of it.
The blonde stood, pulling her coat off the back of the stool. “Well, I should probably catch up on emails.”
“Have a great night,” I offered.
When the door closed behind her, the bar felt warmer again, quieter.
