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She moves to the beer taps to fill a glass, returning a minute later to slide it across the bar. “Here ya go.” I pull out my wallet, but before I can grab a twenty, she says, “It’s on the house.”
I stare at her, my forehead wrinkled with confusion. “Why?”
“Because you didn’t keep trying to hit on me after you saw the ring,” she says matter-of-factly.
“Why the fuck would I do that?”
“You’d be surprised at how few men give a damn about things like husbands and vows.”
“Those aren’t real men.”
“And you’re a real man…” She lowers her eyes to the patch on my cut, then lifts them again. “Dip.” She smirks. “Helluva name. I’m guessing there’s a story there.”
“There is, but I only share that with my friends.”
“Got it.” Her attention is diverted to the end of the bar, and she sighs. “Be right back.”
“I didn’t catch your name,” I call after her.
She turns around and walks backward, a grin on her face. “Jenny. Jenny Barlow,” she says before swiveling to continue toward a new customer.
I watch her wait on several people, and just when she seems to be finishing with them, a woman steps up to the bar, and my lungs seize.
Holy shit!
The woman isn’t wearing what I’d consider bar-hopping clothes, but she’s beautiful, nonetheless. Her mint green sweater falls off one shoulder to reveal smooth, creamy skin, and her dark hair frames her face with curls. Her makeup isn’t caked on, but rather it’s tastefully done in a way that accentuates her full lips and perfectly sculpted cheekbones.
The woman’s gaze flits from side to side like she’s nervous. I watch as she orders a drink, but her hesitation is clear.
She’s not your stereotypical barfly.
I can’t pull my stare away from her. She’s beautiful, and something tells me she doesn’t even know it.
Her. I want her.
Chapter4
Kennedy
“Put her drink on my tab, Jenny.”
I glance at the man sitting on the stool next to me out of the corner of my eye. He’s wearing a suit, and the top few buttons of his white dress shirt are undone. I suppose he’s handsome, if I wanted a man who reminds me of the country club scene. When I came into Barlow’s Bar, I didn’t know what to expect, but having a man offer to pay for my drink within the first three minutes certainly wasn’t it.
“No thank you,” I say quietly as I slide a ten-dollar bill across the bar.
The bartender—the man called her Jenny—smirks at him. “Go find someone else to hit on, Harry,” she says and nods at a group of women near one of the pool tables. “Plenty of other chicks to try your luck with.”
Harry glares at me before looking toward the ‘chicks’ Jenny directed his attention to. “Don’t know what you’re missing,” he mutters before rising to his feet and sauntering over to the small group.
“Sorry about him,” Jenny says as she takes my money. “Harry’s annoying but harmless.”
“It’s okay.”
She goes to the cash register and brings me back my change.
“Keep it,” I tell her. “For sending him away.”
She nods and tucks the bills into the pocket of her tight jeans. I expect her to walk away, to tend to other customers, but she doesn’t. Instead, she stares at me a moment before tilting her head.
