Page 5 of Icy Pour

The blue in his iris vanishes for a split second as he winks. “You got it, boss.”

CHAPTER 3

JOHNNY

“Lassss one, Johnny. I proooomise!” Bethany, the woman who arrived here before me and could drink a goldfish under a table, asks for another drink. What she’s going through? I’ve been there. But she’s on the verge of not being able to walk and not being able to keep the contents of her stomach to herself, so this time I make her drink extra special—a glass of water with vodka around the rim. I won’t charge her for it, and she’ll think she’s getting one last drink without ever noticing the difference.

“You got it, ma’am. How about I call you a cab too?” I suggest as she stiltedly nods back to me.

“Youuurrr’e tooo good to me, Johnny.”

I glance at Walt, who raises an eyebrow as he sees me making her drink with nothing but water. I grin at the grump. I flash him a wink, partly to let him know I’ve got it handled, partly because he’s a tall drink of water himself.

It’s a few minutes till closing time, and the bar has emptied out except for poor, sweet Bethany drinking away her sorrows over the damn bastard that cheated on her. I wipe my hands on the bar towel, a sense of satisfaction I haven’t felt in a long time settling into my bones. It’s been ages since I’ve been behind a bar, but I’ve missed talking to people about their problems. Liquor is the world’s oldest truth serum; couple that with someone standing behind a two-foot piece of wood with a bar towel slung over their shoulder and people feel at ease. My cheeks lift. I’ve missed it.

When I woke up this morning, I thought I’d have been home hours ago, heating up a can of soup for dinner and listening to a Milwaukee Steel Riders hockey game on the radio. Never in my wildest dreams did I expect to walk into a new bar I overheard someone talk about and stay here all day serving.

After a couple of hours, Walt and I figured out a system—me making the drinks and working the bar; him serving the folks at the tables. I used to stand all day at the factory—did all day today too—but I was light on my feet as the hours passed by like seconds. Nothing like an entire day at the factory, waiting for a moment to get a break and find some fresh air. Being in this place, working as a team with him…it was the fresh air I’ve needed for a long time.

Bethany’s cab finally arrives, and she throws herself into Walt’s stiff arms.

“I love this bar sooooo much, Walt!”

He pats her on the back like she’s a baby someone handed him that he doesn’t know how to hold, shooting me a scrunched-up look over her shoulder. She stumbles outside, and Walt quickly locks the door behind her as I start to tidy things up after a busy day.

“I’ll clean up. You can head out,” his deep voice echoes against the wood paneling. “Technically you’re not even employed here.”

I smirk. “I don’t mind. Don’t have anywhere else I gotta be right now.”

“No? No family or anyone to go home to?”

I freeze, looking up from wiping the bar top and catching his big brown eyes staring back at me, wondering if he’s asking what I think he’s asking. I’ve known I was attracted to men as long as I can remember. And I can read people pretty well. But him? I can’t quite figure him out.

“Nope. No family. Just me.”

He nods, grabbing a broom and sweeping up the evidence of a busy night. The strands of his short, chocolate brown hair bob as he works his way across the room. I’ve never been a fan of a mustache myself, but on him? He looks like Freddie Mercury on stage at LiveAid. Except he’s a giant grump, doesn’t seem like the type to dance, and is wearing a flannel Freddie would never be caught dead in. Maybe it’s just the stash then.

Still, the way his hands tightly grip the handle of the broom has me wondering what they would feel like gripped around me. When we shook hands earlier, something flickered in my chest. Something warm, soft, and powerful running through it like the cords in my electric blanket. God, what I wouldn’t give to be curled up in that. Wrapped up in him.

After I’ve finished cleaning behind the bar, I grab my coveralls from where I stashed them in the backroom and get ready to head out.

“Have a drink with me for a minute?” Walt sits on a stool where we’ve had customers all day, two beers sitting in front of him. “As a thank you for helping out today.”

“You pour these yourself?” I joke as I settle in next to him. They aren’t great looking, but don’t look nearly as bad as the first one he poured for me.

He chuckles, low and deep, in his belly. The sound of it, combined with the smile on his face, so much more relaxed than the one I met earlier, sends goosebumps across my skin.

“I may have picked up on a thing or two today.”

“Is that right?” I ask.

He nods as he sips from his glass, his grin cracking into a wrinkled frown. “I’m sorry about earlier. I was, um…”

“Rude to your second customer of the day?” I tease.

He looks down into his drink. “Pretty much. Look, you came in here laughing at my beer pour and asking me if I wanted to make money, and I…I obviously don’t know what I’m doing. It struck a nerve. But you really helped me out today, and I appreciate it.”

I fight my grin as I catch our reflection in the mirror. Even sitting down, his tall, broad frame makes me look like I belong curled up against him. And for a split second, the mirror feels more like a picture frame.