Page 83 of The Bartender Special

Jack splashed at him.

“Hey, I know you aren't lumping me in with you right there.” He brought his hand to his chest, causing a ripple across the surface of the water. “I have talent. I make all the guys and gals drop their jaws.”

Benny didn’t look convinced.

“Oh, really? Tell me, then. What, Mr. Knox, are your jaw-dropping talents?”

Jack couldn’t help the eyebrow wiggle that cruised across his brow.

“I can name a few, but I don’t want you getting too excited out here in front of our company. Carol will surely talk.”

Jack expected Benny’s face to flame on. Instead, he rolled his eyes.

Jack couldn’t exactly prove it, but he felt like something had happened to Benny on the boat. That something had changed. He’d been hurt and stressed and fidgeting on deck, but since he’d surfaced from the water he’d been…sassier.

Laughing and teasing and deflecting every pseudo-naughty comment Jack had thrown his way. It was like the water had washed away whatever had been gunking up his confidence works.

Jack didn’t know what had inspired it or if it was temporary, but he wasn’t complaining.

Sassy Benny was playful and Jack had been having fun playing so far.

Benny splashed him back, proving his quiet point.

“Nothing that constitutes an eyebrow wiggle is going to be appropriate on a stage,” he said. “At least not the same stage Mrs. Norton is going to be playing Moonlight Sonata on for the closer.”

Jack supposed he could see the problem in that.

“Okay, fine,” he relented. “Well, as far as talents that two people can do on stage that are rated PG…” He sucked on his teeth. No gem of an answer came out. “Well, shit, I have no idea.”

Benny’s sassy turned into focus.

“Here, let's take this approach,” he said. “Instead of two truths and a lie, let's say three things we're really good at and see if we can't get something from that. Let’s refresh first.”

Jack didn’t watch as Benny went underwater.

He did watch when he popped back up.

This was the third time—he was counting—that he’d seen the man bare and wet. The sight still didn't disappoint.

His hair looked different, but good, slicked back. Like he'd styled it for a night out at the opera or some fancy gala. One where he'd wear a three-piece suit and a trendy pocket square that Jack himself would have no doubt complained about had it been in his pocket.

Then there was that body again.

Jack had seen it, felt it, and held it during the spider incident.

But wet?

Shit was admirable.

Even bobbing around in the bay, there was something to be said about the man’s pecs and shoulders.

They weren’t toned to a tee, but they sure as sure looked nice enough to touch.

Never mind the damn sunshine making his skin fucking shimmer.

Jack’s trunks got tight.

It didn’t help that the water was warm.