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I make a disappointed sound. “Well, there goes my dream of getting picked up by you.”
She flushes again, but this time she is on to me. “Nobody ever picks up the bartender.”
I waggle my eyebrows. “Do you know why that is?”
She leans closer for my answer. “Why?”
My voice is low, “Because the bartender is the only sober one in the bar.”
She blinks. “I don’t get it.”
I sigh. “I had a feeling you wouldn’t. I’m still working on that joke.”
Hearing someone call out to me, I turn around to take their order. I haven’t been gone for five minutes, but when I come back, I see Dominic standing next to Sarah, one hand on her leg.
Sarah looks uncomfortable, but she makes no effort to remove the hand and even through the anger that burns in me, I wonder why that is.
“Dom, this is your last fucking warning,” I growl at him. “Hands off the lady or I remove them altogether.”
However, the younger man isn't perturbed or even slightly insulted.
“My bad,” he says cheerfully and walks back to his seat.
I catch the excited gleam in his eye.
“You okay?” I ask Sarah.
She nods, looking a little uncomfortable. “He was just asking my name. Flirting, I think.”
I look over to where Dominic sits with his friends, a satisfied look on his face as he watches Sarah, and I clench my fist.
The only reason that shitfaced bastard isn’t out on his ass right now is because Agatha explicitly warned me not to pick a fight with this particular gang. Not that it should matter since this isn’t exactly their turf.
Sarah looks uneasy. “It’s getting late. I think I should leave.”
She takes out her wallet, and despite how serious the situation is, I can’t help but smile at how she takes out five dollars extra and puts it in the tip jar.
Her ears are red. “I know how tiring it is to do all those odd jobs. I always appreciated tips. It’s not that I’m pitying you or anything. That’s just for, you know, I would have liked people to leave me more tips.”
She is babbling now, and I stop her with a touch to her hand. “You didn’t have to but thank you.”
I don’t need that money.
But I know that five-dollar bill will be folded up neatly in my wallet after she leaves, never to be spent.
She is kind. And sweet. And so very innocent.
She quickly finishes her drink and walks out, and I stare after her, wondering what this strange sensation in my chest is.
Before I can pick up her glass, I am immediately distracted by another customer.
It takes me a while to notice that Dominic and his group are missing.
I stare at their empty seats for a few seconds before I motion to the server who was looking after them. “When did the people at that table leave?”
The server frowns, trying to remember. “Ten minutes ago?”
Ten minutes?
