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“Do you want the blended or the single malt?”
Seamus leans forward in his seat with interest. “Surprise me.”
The lass takes a step toward the bar, hesitating and pursing her lips.
“Neat or on the rocks?”
“Neat.”
Stepping up to the bar, she prepares him a glass of neat single malt, setting it on the large hardwood desk in front of Seamus and turning those piercing eyes on me.
“And you?”
While studying the lass, I’ve noticed she has pretty pink, plump lips in addition to her gloriously blue eyes. Perfect. She’s perfect. And I need her to be mine.
“Same.” I shrug, watching as she quickly prepares a glass, handing it to me.
My fingers brush hers when she passes me the glass, and after she steps away, I can still feel the heat of her fingers as she moves into the empty space between Seamus’s desk and the door, pulling out her phone.
“I brought some music. Shall I play it on my phone? There’s no pole here, but I can maybe do a lap dance?”
I choke on my whiskey. That’s not fucking happening.
Seamus rushes to correct her. “There’s no need. We’ve no need for any new strippers at the moment.”
She opens her pretty mouth to argue but closes it again at the foreboding look on Seamus’s face. His tone is firm, and her face falls.
“But I didn’t even get to audition,” she whispers. Seamus’s eyes flicker over to me, and I tilt my head in her direction.
“We’ve an opening for a bartender if ye’re interested.”
Both the lass and Seamus turn to me, eyes wide with surprise.
“Indeed,” Seamus murmurs, trying to hide a smirk, while the lass gazes at me, relieved. Thank fuck for that.
“A… bartender?” she asks, sounding uncertain.
“Aye. We’ve recently decided to let Daryl go from his position and promote Arthur to head bartender, so we need another bartender.”
Seamus is staring at me like I’ve grown an extra head, but he cops on quickly.
“Exactly so, lass. You seem to know your way around a whiskey bottle. We’d be happy to offer you a trial.”
The lass’s eyes dart between Seamus and me, a beaming smile crossing her lips like the sun rose on her face.
“Thank you for this opportunity! I won’t let you down. I can start immediately.”
Seamus nods, done with this conversation. I drain my drink, setting the empty glass on the wooden desk, gesturing to the door.
“I’ll walk ye out, lass.”
I hold the door open for her, and Seamus calls out after us.
“We’ll need you to start tonight. Seven o’clock. And what’s your name?”
“Amelia Rogan.” She stops, turning to look at him as she speaks. “But I go by Mellie.”
Mellie. It suits her. Light and bubbly. Seamus nods, waving his hand dismissively.
