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Marlowe snorted.
“What’s wrong with Pierce?”
“Eww. No. For one thing, he’s four inches shorter than me.”
“He’s nice.”
“He is. He’s cute, too. But no.”
Bristol narrowed her eyes at Marlowe and nodded. “I’ll find someone for you.”
Marlowe rolled her eyes and made her way back down the bar to check on the bachelor party guys.
2
Cass
Cass had never been a whiskey connoisseur like the other guys. He’d never been to Bardstown or Kissing Springs or Rodey, Kentucky, either. His friends talked about the Bourbon Trail like it was some holy grail, which Cass found amusing. Still, he wouldn’t have missed Cy’s bachelor party.
At least they had progressed from their college drinking days. No one was throwing this whiskey back the way they used to shoot tequila back in the day. Even Cass had some of those stories tucked away. Cy’s glass was empty, and technically, that wasn’t supposed to happen. They had started this party last night with dinner at a brewery in Bardstown. While they had all had their fair share of beers, none of them had tied one on that made this morning rough.
Before Cass could flag the bartender down, Zayne got her attention and nodded at Cy’s empty rocks glass. It didn’t matter who bought Cy’s drinks; the three of them had been taking turns all night. But Cass’ next swallow of Lockland Five Year tasted a little like disappointment. He wouldn’t mind catching the bartender’s eye. Tall, but thin, she still somehow cut an imposing figure. Her bare, muscular arms were covered shoulder to wrist in tattoo-sleeves; Cass had been sneaking looks at her all night, trying to make out what the tattoos were.
If he wasn’t mistaken, at least some of them appeared to be bookish.
The fact that this bartender might be into books was a little side bonus. With her violet eyes and raven black pixie cut, she’d bewitched Cass the second he laid eyes on her. He watched her now while she was busy mixing the Old-Fashioned for Cy. Hopefully she wouldn’t notice the way he admired her moves.
Her fingers were long and slender, her nails short and bare. She wore a silver band on the middle finger of her right hand, but no other jewelry on her hands or wrists. The tiny diamond stud nestled in her nose caught his eye each time she moved, and the light caught it. In contrast to her hands—mostly free of jewelry—there were multiple piercings in her ears. And in those piercings, she wore an intriguing mix of silver and diamond studs and silver hoops.
“Here ya go.” She aimed a smile at Cy, but Cass felt it sharp and lethal, as it slipped between his ribs like a sharpened knife and pierced his heart.
“Thanks.” Cy nodded and turned his attention back to Braden. Engaged for six months and involved with Kaeli for two years, Cy wouldn’t flirt with a lap dancer if the guys had hired one for him. Braden would, depending on whether or not he was involved with someone, and even then, who he might be dating. Zayne flirted with wallpaper, so yes, he had already tried his hand with the bartender. While she had been game to join in their fun, she’d done so from a distance and not played right into Zayne’s hands.
Cass wasn’t much of a flirt. Not unless he was interested. An intellectual, he had his nose in a book a lot more often than he had his ass on a bar stool. He supposed he had charm when he wanted to, but there hadn’t been a woman who intrigued him enough to make him want to in quite a while.
That drought was over.
Cass sipped his two-finger, neat pour again and lowered his glass to the bar. He hadn’t really thought enough about his lack of dating, of romance, as a drought for it to be considered a drought. But now that he was watching this woman behind the bar, her long fingers twisting a slice of orange over a glass now, although it felt like she had Cass’ belly in her fingers instead, he was deliriously dry and thirsty.
The Iron Stag was a small one room shack off a gravel road in a little one-horse town called Rodey. Actually, though the address might say Rodey, Braden had driven the rental van a long way down that gravel road. The Iron Stag was more of a hole-in-the-wall country tavern than anything. What it lacked in big city posh, it had in charm in spades. The place was slightly trendy, which made it a sore thumb rather than an eyesore. The exterior needed some updating; some of the siding was bent and peeling. Cass had noticed it when they’d come in. The interior was a mix of old and worn and shiny new. The bar itself was an impressive slab of polished wood with a back bar stocked with things his buddies worshipped. The floor was worn hard wood.
Cass had noticed a mechanical bull tucked away in the far corner. He wondered if anyone ever rode it. In their college days, every damned one of them would have climbed on that thing and given it a shot. Might have all walked out of here bruised or broken, but they would have had fun. Now, he wouldn’t put it past Braden or Zayne to try it if they noticed it.
The bartender handed the drink she’d just made—she had garnished it with that same slice of orange peel—to a waitress and turned back to two women at the other end of the bar. Cass assumed she knew them; she had been chatting with them since he and the guys had come in. Country music played in the bar; Cass had noticed some of the songs were Christmas songs, but not all of them. It was okay with him; after all, it was mid-December. Time for the holiday festivities.
Which reminded him, he needed to call home and check in.
“You ready?” Braden elbowed him, drawing him out of his thoughts.
“Where’re we going?” He picked up his glass and eyed the amber whiskey in it. Eyed the bartender through the glass. He wasn’t finished with either of them, but he had no intention of announcing that to the guys.
“Zayne’s got that whole bottle from Barron Distillery. We’re gonna go to the VRBO and open it.”
The bartender chose that moment to drop her head back and laugh. The throaty, buttery sound wound through Cass like a swallow of the high proof stuff in his glass—a little sweet, a little spicy, and enough heat to make him sweat.
“You guys go on,” Cass told his friend. They’d all gone their own ways after college, but they stayed in touch. Cass didn’t see them as much as the rest of them saw each other; he’d spent some time traveling abroad and tended to spend even his weekends working or traveling. Other people might think it was odd that he would tell his buddies to go on without him, but his friends wouldn’t blink.
Cass spent a lot of time alone, and he did a lot of physical activities—rocking climbing, biking, hiking. He would walk to the VRBO when he was ready; it wasn’t a terrible walk. In fact, he might need the sub-freezing temperature out there to cool him off when he left.
