AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“We’re going to practice darts—send us a pitcher, yeah?”
Nash nods and looks at me hiding in the shadows. “You ready for your first lesson?”
“Aren’t they working? Should they be drinking?”
“They’re off shift. They’re all good guys who work hard. We don’t give people a hard time for having a beer after work. That’s how we make our living, remember?”
I nod. “I apologize. I haven’t spent much time in a bar before.”
“Really?” he asks dryly. “You ready to learn how to pour?”
“Even I can handle that. Don’t you just pull the lever?”
He scoffs. “It’s an art. If you do it wrong, it will over- or under-foam. Come here.”
I set Fifi’s carrier down and let him position me in front of the tap. He puts a glass in my hand but holds his hand over mine. “You want this glass at a forty-five-degree angle about an inch below the tap.” He’s standing behind me, and I can feel the heat of him, his breath at my temple as he adjusts my wrist to the correct angle. My belly quivers as I try to concentrate on his words and not his potent masculine power. He takes my other hand in his and moves it to the tap handle. “We’re going to quickly pull it forward to open the flow of beer. Never open it only partway.”
“Why?”
“It will over-foam. It’s either on or off. Never between. Got that?”
I nod and find myself sucking in my stomach. This is ridiculous.
“Once it’s open, we're going to let the beer flow down the side of the glass until it’s half full. Keep the glass at forty-five-degrees and don’t let the spout touch the glass. Once it’s half full, continue pouring while you gently tilt the glass upright and pour down the center to create about one inch of head.”
His low voice in my ear is vibrating in places that make me tingle. I have to resist the urge to lean back against his chest. It would feel so good, all that strength supporting me for a change. I need to get it together.
“So I can start?”
“No. Don’t be impatient.” Did he just sniff me? I think he just sniffed me. “Once the pour is done with the right amount of foam, quickly turn the tap off. Now you can try it.”
It didn’t look hard, but the beer foams more than one inch. My shoulders slump. “I screwed it up. Do I pour the foam off?”
“Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself. Just let it rest until the head calms down and finish your pour. It will be fine.”
While I wait, I angle my head so I can talk to him. “Thank you for not yelling or getting mad. I promise I’ll figure it out.”
His brow wrinkles up. “It’s just beer, Dickinson.”
I nod, and duck my head, afraid I’ll show that my eyes are starting to well up.
“Hey.” He nudges my temple with his nose. “I’d be better off letting you be afraid of me, but I don’t sweat the small stuff. And I don’t yell at people when they are learning a new skill. Now let’s finish this beer.”
I swallow hard and nod again. He’s actually been really nice considering I’ve just turned his life upside down.
When he’s satisfied that I can fill a couple glasses, he gives me a pitcher and steers me to a different tap, one with more expensive beer in it. “Never let the tap come in contact with the glass or the beer.” He takes his hand off mine holding the glass and settles it on my hip. I draw in a shocked breath but pour a flawless pitcher and even take it to the guys playing darts.
A woman wearing a navy-blue dress dotted with white anchors comes in holding a paper bag with grease stains on it, already talking as if in mid-conversation. “They were out of onions, Nash. Tell your patrons they can thank me later when you breathe on them...” She gets to the bar and cocks her head, examining me, then examining Nash. “New employee?” she asks Nash, setting down a heavenly smelling lunch. “Hi, I’m Stella.”
I open my mouth to introduce myself and Fifi yips. Probably smelling the food.
“Oh, hell,” Nash mutters as Stella’s face transforms into what I can only describe as pure joy. “You got a dog!” She rounds the bar and zeroes in on Fifi’s carrier. “Oh my God, Nash. It’s about time. Oh, he’s adorable.”
“Not my dog,” he says, but I don’t think she heard him as she gets down on the floor and starts making baby talk to my dog.
“Who’s a good baby? Look at you.”
Nash reaches a beleaguered arm down to bring Stella back up. “Not my dog. And no, you can’t have one in the apartment either.”
