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Though he's sweating, Bash smiles gratefully. "Thanks, man."
"No problem. I'll close up while you're gone."
Tucker groans again, and Bash shakes his head, rushing his employee to the door.
"Thanks, Brett!"
And before I can say anything more, he and Tucker disappear around the corner.
Feeling a little lightheaded, I glance at the patrons still standing around the bar. All of them are looking at me now, their faces pale and some of their jaws agape after what just happened. And Bash has left me in charge of damage control.
Shit.
CHAPTER3
Denise
"Sheila, are you sure this bar is even open?" I ask.
Sheila frowns and stops to look down at her phone.
"I mean, it should be open." She bites her lip as she swipes at the screen furiously. "Yeah, the website says they're open until two a.m."
It's a little past eight, and Paul has just dropped us off at the Silver Coop. It's on the corner of the Barton Beach Boardwalk in a converted warehouse building. And although the boardwalk is pretty busy for a Friday night, the bar is eerily empty for some reason.
Lisa walks ahead of us and looks around. "Wow, Sheila. You did good. This place is fancy."
I can't help but agree. It's a nice bar, especially for a tiny tourist town like Barton Beach.
Large, industrial-style windows in the main seating area give a stunning view of the beach. Plush leather furniture is strategically placed. Baseball memorabilia adorn the brick walls, complete with vintage posters and signed baseball bats. Soft music floats atmospherically from hidden speakers.
And at the center of the room is a giant bar, its counter gleaming under the warm overhead lights.
Where in the world is everyone?
Suddenly, I hear a deep voice behind me.
"Sorry, ladies, I was just about to put a sign on the door."
Lisa turns around first, squealing with glee as she grabs my arm.
Sheila looks over her shoulder next and does a double take. Her eyes grow wide and reckless as her lips curve into a smirk.
Finally, I turn toward the voice. And when I do, I almost swallow my tongue.
The hottest man I haveeverseen is standing behind the bar.
He's 6'4 and built like a Greek god, with broad shoulders and chiseled abs that I can see through his shirt. He looks about my age, with pepper-black hair flecked with salty gray, the front perfectly smoothed and swept to the side. His fitted black T-shirt shows off his bulging biceps while his dark blue jeans hug his perfect ass in all the right places.
"I'm afraid we're closed for the evening." He sets a few glasses on the shelf above the sink. "You'll have to come back another night."
Lisa narrows her eyes suspiciously. "Your website says you don't close until two a.m."
The Greek god gives us a sheepish look. "One of our employees had a bit of an accident earlier. We decided it was best to close up for the night so we could take care of that."
Sheila's face falls as she processes his words, her excitement fading into disappointment. "Bummer. We were looking forward to getting a drink from here." Her gaze sweeps over the bar, taking in the memorabilia and the comfortable ambiance. "The place looks great, by the way."
I don't know what comes over me after that.
