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The waitress pulled away from their friend and took the tray.
Blake watched her ass as she sashayed away.
Trenton shook his head, his eyes on Malcolm, who was glaring at their friend.
“You know, Blake, she’s actually a halfway decent waitress,” he said.
“I bet she’ll be an even better lay,” Blake said.
Malcolm sighed, slapping a rag down on the bar and wiping a spot that didn’t need it. “Fine. I guess I’ll put the signs up for help again.”
“She might not quit,” Trenton said, wincing as the glare moved his way.
“Yeah right.” Malcolm’s eyes softened as he focused on Trenton. “How’d your visit go?”
“Oh shit, was that today?” Blake asked, turning back to the bar. “You okay?”
“I’m fine. I go every month.” Trenton smiled as he settled his arms on the edge of the bar. “Besides, it’s been close to three years.”
“That doesn’t mean anything,” Malcolm said, turning to grab a glass as he made Trenton’s usual.
Blake swirled his fingers in the condensation from his beer that had dripped onto the bar top. “I guess it was a good day for it. Rainy as hell.”
“True. There was a nice, older woman at the cemetery that I lent a hand.”
“Of course you did.” Blake rolled his eyes. “Saint Trent.”
Trenton took a sip of the gin and tonic Malcolm slid in front of him. “Well, she did flirt with me.”
“No shit?” Blake laughed. “It’s about time you got some action.”
“That was before she told me I was too young to have built up the stamina to keep up with her.” Trenton shook his head as he heard the words in her wispy voice again.
“Stamina, hell. You’ve probably forgotten how to use it.”
“Blake!” Malcolm snapped. “Just because you chase every woman that passes by doesn’t mean—” The ringing of his phone had him breaking off, frowning down at it.
Blake leaned toward Trenton. “I could give you first crack at the waitress if you want.”
Trenton studied Malcolm’s frown as his friend answered his phone.
Blake nudged his arm, and the liquid sloshed in Trenton’s glass. “Hey, I’m being generous here.”
Trenton shook his head. “I don’t even know her name.”
“What’s wrong?” Malcolm was asking the person on the phone.
“Hell, I don’t know her name either,” Blake admitted.
Trenton choked on the sip of alcohol he’d taken, managing to swallow it instead of spit it across the bar. He coughed. “Are you serious?”
Blake shrugged.
“Jesus, Blake,” Trenton said, staring at his friend.
Blake held his hand against his chest dramatically. “Language, Trent!”
“Okay, see you soon,” Malcolm said into the phone before setting it down again. His frown hadn’t left.
