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“Sammi.” The barkeep looked Julia in the eyes and raised her dark brows.
“Sammi."
Poppy cut in. “I’d love the same.”
“Margaritas for the rest of us, on the rocks. No salt, please,” Tilly said, looking from Edie to Haven.
Sammi nodded and lined up the corresponding glasses in front of the women. She was fascinating to watch because she made the drinks with such ease.
Edie engaged. “Is the band local?”
“No. They’re friends of the owner’s and are vacationing here for a few days.” Sammi explained, combining the gin, lemon juice, simple syrup, and a cocktail shaker, adding ice before covering and shaking. She poured the drinks into two highball glasses, topped them with the prosecco, and garnished each with a lemon twist, then set them in front of Julia and Haven. She turned her attention to making the margaritas.
“Vacationing? Here?”
Julie elbowed Edie sharply in her ribs.
Sammi didn’t appear offended, but her retort carried a bite. “Torch River and the surrounding area is a destination.” She rang up the total and gave it to Julia. “Plenty of outdoor activities for all kinds of people, views that take a person’s breath away, a rich river history, and the Narrows.”
Edie had already sucked down half of her drink. “And the Cliffs.”
“Keep the change.” Julia handed Sammi a stack of twenties.
“Thank you,” Sammi said, then addressed Edie. “Right, the Cliffs.”
Julia picked up her drink and inclined her head toward the open accordion doors. “C'mon! Let’s check out the band and dance.”
“There’s a bar, tables, and seating outside too, ladies.” Sammi waved the hand holding a bar towel. “Have fun.”
* * *
An enormous deck cantilevered over the river’s edge. It was a recent addition by the looks of it. The entire space was strung with mismatched lights, like those decorating the front of the Wake. Black metal tables and chairs had been pushed out from the center, leaving it open for any who wished to dance. It was packed. Those who couldn’t find a table or weren’t dancing spilled out into the weedy grass in groups or as couples, with mostly beers in-hand.
The band was off to the right on their own stage built over the ground, complete with a simple lighting show and sound board. They announced they were taking a break in fifteen minutes.
An outdoor kitchen of sorts was close to the edge of where the parking extended on the side of the building. Meat and vegetables sizzled on grates supported by stone columns and suspended over burning wood. Her stomach growled, having skipped on the junk food at Poppy’s. It smelled delicious.
Closer was another full bar. Julia stuttered-stepped as soon as she saw the man behind it. Abundantly silver-streaked hair, over six feet tall, packed with muscle, and to-die-for-handsome. She fell behind her friends, who had downed their drinks and placed them on a tray, intent on the dance floor.
Haven circled back. “You good?”
“Uh-huh.” Julia lifted her drink in a salute. It was full. “I'm just going slow. Remember, I didn’t eat much.”
“They have food. Maybe get something?”
Julia wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know. You think it’s safe?”
“It smells amazing, and my stomach is growling. even though I did eat. But itwasthat crappy junk food Poppy is so fond of. Want to split something?”
“Maybe when the band breaks. You go ahead. I’ll join you guys in a little bit.”
“Okay.” Haven hugged her around the shoulders, flashed a smile, and made a beeline for the dance floor.
Julia leaned against the wall for support, struggling to gather her wits, her breathing rhythm, and slow her galloping heart as her eyes strayed again and again to the gorgeous man working the bar.
She looked around then and dumped the drink she had only one sip of. It had been perfect, but she wanted one made by him.
“Hi. Can you make me a French 75?”
