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I busy myself, wiping down the top of the makeshift bar, which is built better than anything we would’ve had at Jake’s. The email Emmalyn had sent me just instructed me to show up, that everything would be provided. I’ve had instructions like that before, and always end up short on something, so I stocked the passenger seat of my truck with all the things I might need that many forget, like cocktail onions for those that prefer them over olives. I know I’m not going to need anything I brought because for the first time in my bartending career, the bar was actually fully stocked when I arrived.
My heart is racing by the time Alex is standing in front of me. I know it probably looks like I’m playing hard to get when I take a moment too long to look up at him, but in reality, I’m just trying to get my heart to stop pounding.
Any effort to get better control of myself is futile, I realize when I look up and see his smiling face.
“I hate you a little,” I confess.
His smile fades some. “Hate me?”
“If you could feel my chest right now.”
“Pounding like crazy?” I nod. “Mine too.”
I lick at my lips, wickedly turned on that he would make such a confession unprovoked.
“I imagine you’re thirsty,” I say, jokingly grabbing a bottle of whiskey.
He doesn’t stop me when I pass the glass to him, knowing that the man doesn’t drink. Just like has happened numerous times in the bar, our fingers brush when I pass the drink to him. To distract myself, I also place a cold bottle of water on the bar top for him because I know he won’t drink the whiskey.
He looks down at the drink, his throat working on a swallow as he lifts it to his lips.
I almost laugh at the man when his nose scrunches with the tiny sip he takes. He plays it off as best as he can manage, but it’s evident he’s not very impressed with the taste.
“Are you the type of man to try and get someone drunk and take advantage?”
My nose scrunches in disgust. “No. Of course not.”
“Too bad,” he says with a saucy wink as he places the glass of whiskey on the counter.
The man grabs the bottle of water and walks away before my brain can manage a response, and I’m left watching his back with my jaw hanging open a little.
“I hear you’re also the bartender at Jake’s,” a man says, pulling me out of those dirty thoughts that were threatening to sneak back up.
“I am,” I say, my smile back in place as I turn to face him.
“I’m Bishop. I’ve been to Jake’s. Didn’t see you there.”
“I’ve worked there for a few years.”
“When I came to town, Cannon was a bartender.”
“Ah,” I say, nodding my head in understanding. “I started right after he left. What can I get for you?”
“A beer would be great.”
I pull a bottle from the cooler, popping the cap off before handing it to him.
A wave of laughter draws our attention, and once my eyes land on the laughing form of Alex, I just can’t pull my eyes away.
“He your boyfriend?”
My head snaps in his direction, and I know I have to look like a deer caught in a set of headlights.
“Fuck no,” I say, my heart racing in a different way than it did when Alex approached earlier.
But then I realize that defensiveness could be read the wrong way.
“I wish,” I tell him.
“Yeah?” Bishop sweeps his eyes down the length of me.
“Are you out?”
His husky chuckle is loud but not abrasive.
“You thinking of hitting on him?” I can’t exactly tell if there’s a hint of jealousy in my tone, but I wouldn’t be surprised if there was.
The man laughs. “Man, I’m straight as an arrow. I don’t even know what Boomer’s sexual preferences are, but there are folks in the club that aren’t in hetero relationships. I caught you watching him more than once, and I just don’t want there to be any problems.”
I frown in his direction. “You were testing me?”
He tosses a ten-dollar bill on the bar.
“You passed with flying colors,” he says, before walking away to join the group we were just watching.
“Rainbow colors,” I mutter, annoyed that anyone would look at me and think for a second I’d be the type of person to have an issue with someone in a same-sex relationship. But also kudos to the new guy for being ready to put a stop to anyone thinking of being a problem for his teammates.
Maybe Alex wants to keep who he is in the darkness because he doesn’t truly believe they would have his back if they knew the truth?
Chapter 19
Boomer
“There’s a list,” Ugly repeats.
“Like written down or we’re just expected to remember who we can’t touch?” Stormy asks, as if he feels like this is a pop quiz he didn’t study for.
