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“Well, that’s good,” I tell her easily. “I was worried.”
She blinks. “You were?”
Before I can say anything, she continues, as if struck by a realization. “Of course. You’re the bartender. You didn’t get in trouble with your boss, did you? You know, about the bar fight. Because I can talk to him for you. I’m good at talking to parents, and a boss isn’t any different. It might be a little hard if he’s intimidating.”
I struggle to control my laughter and maintain a sober face. “Not at all. My boss is very understanding. But thank you for the offer.”
“Oh, that’s good then.”
I nod, trying to maintain a composed façade. “What’s your name?”
“Sarah Rivers,” she pipes up, grinning. “I mean, it’s just Sarah; with an ‘h.’”
Oh, she is absolutely adorable.
“Okay, Sarah with an ‘h.’ What can I get you to drink?”
Now, she frowns. “Ah, do you have something that is non-alcoholic?”
I blink at her. “You came to a bar, but you don’t want alcohol?”
She gives me a nervous smile. “Is that weird?”
I smile at her, wanting to reassure her. “Not at all. I am just surprised. How about some apple juice? Or I can get you a root beer?”
She shifts in her seat. “I’ll have the apple juice, please.” Then her voice lowers, “I can’t hold my alcohol. I’ve got very low tolerance.”
I pour her a glass of the clouded liquid and then add a slice of apple and a tiny umbrella. Leaning against the counter, I watch her delighted expression, and I chuckle.
“So, what’s a pre-school teacher doing in a bar when she doesn’t even drink alcohol?” I ask, expecting a long jumbled-up explanation as her other two had been.
What I am not expecting is that pretty smile to fade away and her expression to become shuttered. She moves her shoulders in what is an attempt at a casual shrug.
“I thought it would be a nice change.”
Change from what, I wonder.
Her body language is just screaming that she is hiding something, but I let it go. It is none of my business.
As another customer catches my attention, I move over to them but keep glancing in Sarah’s direction. Her shoulders relax once I move away, and I wonder at that.
She is small, but I know the curves her prim attire conceals, and my eyes drift over her form again as she flicks the little umbrella I added. I grit my teeth to calm down.
She is just some pretty teacher.
But even as I think that, I know that it has been a long time since a woman has stirred my lust like this. She exudes vibes of innocence, and my dark nature begs me to corrupt her.
I frown into the drink I am preparing.
A woman like her has no business in a place like this.
The only reason I sometimes choose to bartend is because, unlike Philip and Ian, I can’t contain myself in the suits and offices that are like second nature to my childhood friends.
I grew up on the streets of Dublin.
I worked odd jobs, stolen picked pockets, anything I had to do to survive.
But then, I had another mouth to feed as well.
