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She rolled her eyes. “No kidding. Where in Europe?”
“My friends”—he motioned to Erik and Didier—“live in the UK, but I live in Italy.”
“You’re British though, aren’t you?” She tipped her head, studying him.
Her neck was one long, graceful temptation. “I am.”
“Hmm.”
He waited for her to say something more, but then the bartender came back with their beers.
Didier pulled out his wallet and set a bill on the counter.
“Hey, Chris,” the stunningly erotic woman next to him called.
The bartender turned to her, his gaze going soft. “Yeah?”
Jamie stared at the man. There was affection there. Was she his? The idea sat uncomfortably on him. It felt oddly like disappointment.
The woman leaned forward. “Another cocktail for Alice, and can I get another glass of wine?”
Didier elbowed him.
Okay, so the bar had hidden depths that weren’t immediately obvious at first glance. Given the décor, outdated music, and lack of style, he didn’t think he could be blamed for his initial judgment.
As he took a sip of his beer, he surveyed the bar in more depth. For a Friday evening, it wasn’t very busy. About half the tables were occupied, with a mix of older and younger people, women as well as men. It didn’t surprise him that there weren’t more people here—not because it wasn’t fancy but because it seemed to be caught between eras so it wasn’t obvious at first glance. But if you cared to look closer, it was charming. Comfortable. He’d been in bars all around the world, and he’d been in ones much dicier than this one that had done brisk business.
Chris, the bartender, set a glass of red wine in front of the woman, whisking away her empty glass. Then he pulled out a shaker and clear pint glass and began mixing the cocktail for the other woman.
They all watched him expertly pour the ingredients into the canister. He gave it a vigorous shake and then strained it into a coupe. He tasted it using a straw and, with a nod to himself, set it in front of the blonde.
The blonde hummed, shifting in her seat. “Thank you, Chris.”
The bartender nodded. He pretended to go back to work putting the bottles away, but he watched the blonde as she carefully lifted the drink to her lips. When she hummed again in appreciation, Chris flushed a little, ducking his head and going back to work.
Jamie blinked. The bartender liked the blonde, not the erotic soap-scented siren next to him. Something in him eased, and he relaxed on his seat.
Didier and Erik had their heads together, discussing something too quietly for him to overhear. Jamie was about to angle closer to them when he heard the erotic woman next to him say “speed dating.” Keeping his gaze forward, he sipped his beer casually as he eavesdropped shamelessly.
“It’s going to be great,” she was saying to her blond friend. “I thought having it at three in the afternoon would be ideal. That way, people can linger and have drinks after without needing to run home to be rested for work the next day. I haven’t publicized it beyond the Facebook page I set up for Chris, but a decent number of people have RSVPed. It’s just the first event, but I feel good about it.”
“Maybe I should come too,” the blonde said.
Jamie caught a frown shadow Chris’s face.
So that was indeed the way of it. Chris liked the blonde. Jamie wondered who the siren was to the man.
Chris’s gaze shot to his. Jamie arched his brow but said nothing.
The women were unaware of their byplay. “I don’t know what I’d do if some guy were to ask me out,” the blonde was saying. “I don’t know that I remember how to kiss even, it’s been so long since I’ve been on a date.”
The siren laughed. “It’s like riding a bike. Not that I’d know personally.”
Jamie resisted the urge to offer to kiss her for several hours.
“Are you going to participate?” the blonde asked.
“Yes.” The siren paused. “I have nothing to lose, and I may as well get some practice in, right?”
