Page 6 of The Bartender Special

“For being in love,” she said. She tapped her phone like an influencer recommending a product online. “Look him up. Benny De Carlo.”

Carol squeezed Benny's shoulder. Her fabricated smile slipped back into place alongside some confusion.

It was a look that put a foreboding sense of danger in Benny's gut.

I could run, he thought, adrenaline spiking. Who would even stop me? I’ve already paid for my drinks so I can just⁠—

Carol's smile went high-wattage bright.

“You know what, Benny? It's so sad to drink alone; why don't you come join us? You know Marcus already, and I'm sure Ruby and John would love to pick your brain. It's not every day an Arbor Bay native makes such a big splash. Come entertain us with your little stories.”

She winked. Winked.

Why was she always winking?

It was clearly a trap. A threat. An eyelid that batted but was only the opening swing of many.

Benny’s panic nearly broke through his chest. For whatever reason, he glanced at the only safe spot left within his reach.

Which didn't help matters at all.

Jack the Bartender was no longer looking at him with a slightly-dissociated stare.

As clear as the regret Benny had seen in the mirror the morning he’d found out he was trending, Benny could see recognition explode within the bartender’s beautiful green eyes.

Before Benny could pretend it was anything other than that, Jack’s gaze went from him to the booth across the room.

Where Marcus the Guy Robertson was sitting.

All reasonable excuses as to why Benny couldn't join Carol went out the window.

Once he lost those, he was toast.

And Carol knew he couldn’t resist.

“Grab your drink and let's go.” She wrapped her arm around Benny's shoulders and guided him off the stool. “Between your fame and Marcus's new engagement, we'll be talking all night.”

Benny had never had a panic attack before but, by God, he was sure he was about to have a new experience right then. There were too many things going on. Too many opportunities to say the wrong thing or, worse for him, the right thing.

He’d come back to Arbor Bay for that reason alone—he was trying to avoid the world.

Now? Now he was a grown-ass man, letting a grown-ass woman walk him like a dog to his grown-ass doom.

Best case scenario? He kept his one secret safe while making a fool of the rest of his life. Worst case? He admitted he'd been totally and terrifyingly in love with Marcus to Marcus.

While the queen of all gossip in Arbor Bay sat at the table watching.

Small towns were truly awful.

* * *

Jack Knox had already counted the cars in the parking lot before he'd come inside the bar. It had forced him to the one conclusion he had been trying not to conclude.

There weren't as many as he'd hoped.

While Fridays and Saturdays were a much busier time for most bars, Cassidy’s Place lived and died during the weekdays. All except Wednesdays. There was a plummet in patron attendance thanks to church services. At least, that had been Jack's experience during the last six years he'd been tending bar there.

Tonight, there was no church.