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“If the walls could talk.” He whistles, looking at each wall with a tight smile.
Reed rubs the back of his neck and shrugs, staring at Matt. He doesn’t explain further, and his eyes close briefly. After observing the flow and studying its potential, I’m contemplating the possibility of buying the Silver Moon—and partnering with Matt.
He believes that with the proper administration, this establishment can be big. He also wants to do it because the place has sentimental value to his parents. Some tradition that began in the late ’80s, or was it the early ’90s?
“You’re selling then?” I direct my question to Reed.
“I’m considering it, yes,” he answers, staring at Matt. “As I explained to Decker, I need time to sort out my future. I don’t have a plan or a place to retire to, yet.”
Scanning around, I consider the potential of the establishment. This place can change for the better. Maybe we can bring it back as a vintage bar.
“I might want to buy the bar from you,” I say, glancing briefly at Matt, who grins.
I hate to admit it, but he was right when he said it was an opportunity I wouldn’t want to miss. It won’t compete with Thrice, as both are different concepts. If done right, I’ll be taking over the Seattle night scene faster than I planned.
“You need personnel. How about you let us come help and familiarize ourselves with the business. If you decide not to sell or we realize it isn’t viable to buy, we call it off, and neither of us loses.” I pull out a business card and hand it to Reed.
Reed takes a look at the card and narrows his gaze before speaking. “If I decide to sell, I’ll give you boys a call. You’re welcome to pitch in while I’m short on staff. I’ll pay you with a beer or two.”
We say our goodbyes, and Matt ushers us outside the bar through the back door.
“You have to chill,” Matthew says as we step out of the bar and the cold drizzle of Seattle rain hits my face. “Does the word ‘friendly’ mean anything to you?”
“That’s how I work, Matt,” I respond, knowingfriendlycomes later when I trust enough. But I don’t say that. Matt trusts anyone that moves and breathes. That’s one of the things I like about him. He uses his heart as much as he uses his head.
After taking a few steps toward the street, he grabs my elbow. “Not so fast. I have to introduce you to someone,” he says, releasing my arm and ringing the bell next door.
“Should I be concerned, Matt?”
“Only if you’re afraid of beautiful women.”
I’m about to leave him when the door opens. I halt in my tracks. The sight ofher—the bartender—pushes all the air out of my lungs.
She’s not wearing that boring polo T-shirt that reads Silver Moon. This woman might have the same face but she’s different.
A striking, hot beauty.
Her long wavy hair is a combination of dark chestnut, caramel highlights, blondes, and a few reds. She pivots to turn on more lights, and I notice her bare shoulders covered with freckles and a tattoo that reads “Live Fearlessly.”
A small butterfly kisses her right shoulder.
She looks cute.
I might dare to say adorable.
“Hi.” She greets Matt with a sweet, soft voice, and squints her eyes when she spots me. “It’s a little late for house calls, don’t you think?”
Maybe? I don’t know. I want to answer her, but I’m speechless at the sight of her. The sleeveless dress she wears hugs her curves. God, she has a gorgeous ass that I’d like to worship.
A thin, golden bracelet enfolds her sexy ankle. She’s barefooted, and both feet have a few curvy designs… henna tattoo? The toe ring is cute. Those toenails look sexy with dark nail polish. Another glance at the entire picture ignites my body. I glance at Matthew, who is in awe, just like I am.
Matt clears his throat, and I clear my head. “Hey, Butterfly, you clean up well.” He touches the back of his neck. “I promised to introduce you to the hot suit, didn’t I?”
After staring at us for a couple of breaths, she directs her first musical words at me. “I’ve met Mr. Whiskey Sour before. Hi. The name is Thea, not Butterfly.”
“Nice to meet you, Thea. Tristan Cooperson, not Hot Suit or Whiskey Sour.” I order myself to stop ogling the curvy, sexy goddess. I extend my hand, touching her. Fuck, I sound and feel like a teenager in lust.
Thea stares at our hands for several seconds, mirroring the dumbfounded reaction that her touch creates. An electrifying surge radiates through my hand, traveling all over my body.
