She laughs and shakes her head at me. “Anyway, you don’t need lame ass jokes. Just ask them if they want to sleep with you. I’m sure that’s all it’ll take.”
“Oh really?” I ask, placing my chin in my hand as I lean over the bar again. “And why is that? Because I’m the most attractive man in all of Gaspar?”
She rolls her eyes. “And the cockiest.”
“But the most attractive too, right?”
“Anyway,” she sings, changing the subject and gazing at her phone. “Midge should be here soon.”
“Oh good. I like Midge. She gets you drunk and makes you dance.”
“Oh shush. That was only like three times.”
I look down the bar and notice Chad’s taking care of a couple new people who walked in.
“Well, maybe tonight will be four.”
“Don’t count on it. It’ll be an early night for me. Got plans for tomorrow morning.”
I don’t bother asking about them, because I’m sure it involves her boyfriend, Hunter. I’ve seen him once. He had to come pick London up when she got absolutely shit-faced, which was one of the nights Midge got her drunk and on the dance floor. But I’ve never talked to Hunter. He doesn’t join her when she visits the bar, and I’ve never thought to ask why.
I point at the glass she has clutched in both hands. “You sure you don’t need a refill?” I ask.
She grins. “I’m gonna babysit this one for a while.”
“All right. I’ll come check on ya later.”
I end up getting sucked into Craig and Jim’s fight while I’m at their end of the bar, but when I serve Curtis his Hennessy I tell him about the Bengals vs Browns argument knowing he’s from Pennsylvania, and a Steeler’s fan.
“Hold up, guys. The Browns ain’t better than anyone,” Curtis pipes in, moving over a seat to get closer to them.
“Oh, here we go,” Craig responds, taking a drink.
I chuckle as I slip away, making my way to the other side of the bar.
About a half hour later, I spot Midge taking a seat next to London, so I saunter over to take her order.
“Hey, Midge. What can I get ya this time?” She wants a new drink every time she’s here. She’s not a creature of habit like most drinkers.
“A tequila sunrise sounds good. Thanks, Royce.”
“You got it.”
I pull the orange juice from the fridge under the bar, grab the tequila and grenadine, and place them in front of me.
“So, Royce. How’s your brother?” She rests her cheek in her palm, her head tilting to the side as she stares up at me with a smile.
“Which one?” I ask, pouring the tequila and orange juice over ice.
“Any of them. Who’s single?”
I laugh. “All of us are single except Cillian.”
After I stir the two ingredients, I slowly pour the grenadine inside the edge of the glass, observing the red syrup settle at the bottom. I plop a cherry on top and put an orange slice on the rim before sliding it over.
“The Kingston brothers,” Midge sighs, grabbing the glass. “Everyone wants a piece of one of you boys.”
“Not everyone,” I state, glancing at London. Midge laughs as London once again rolls her eyes.
“Hunter’s not a bad guy,” Midge says.
“Oh, God,” I mutter in disgust. “If anyone ever describes me as not a bad guy I want you to shoot me in the face. What a terrible way to be described.”
“Hunter is kind, generous, and thoughtful,” London defends.
Not really a better description, but okay.
“Anyway,” Midge interrupts. “Merrick. How is he?”
“Not the one you should be interested in since he just left.”
“I know. Damn. I should’ve put the moves on him a while back. Now I’m gonna miss out on the good life. How about Elijah?”
“Probably too old for you.”
“He’s what? Thirty?”
“Thirty-five.”
“That’s not too old for me, plus I love his sexy professor vibe.”
I scrunch my face up. “Well, Elijah and Cillian will be by later.”
“I’ll be sure to say hi,” Midge says with a grin, tucking her short black hair behind her ear.
“London? Need me to. . .” I stop myself and just gesture to the glass.
“Yes, please.”
After I give London another drink, I go busy myself with a group of girls who’ve approached the bar. Two are pretty hot, but neither have anything on London.
When London first walked into the bar, my dick twitched, wanting to say hello immediately. She strutted in wearing a black shirt tucked into a white skirt with a white blazer to match. Her long legs were on display, showing off a slight tan, and her black heels click-clacked across the hardwood floor as she made her way to me. Her blond hair fell well past her shoulders in waves, and all I could think was that she didn’t belong in this small town. She belonged in Hollywood or on a runway. More importantly, she belonged in my bed.
However, that was also the day I found out she was off limits. Hunter called her shortly after she settled in in front of me, and I heard enough to know she wasn’t single.
So, while I still like to flirt with her, I mainly focus on the people who are available.
“Hey ladies. How can I serve you?” I flirt.
“Service me?” One of them asks, flirting back. “I can think of some ways.”
I throw her a smile and take her order first. She orders a Long Island iced tea, two of the other ones get margaritas, and the last one orders water since she’s the designated driver.
“You guys here to check out the band?” I ask.
“They are,” the flirty one states. “I’m here to check out the bartender.”
Midge and London’s high-pitched cackle floats across the room.
“Is that right?” I slide the drink across the bar, allowing my hand to linger for the briefest moment. “You hear something about me?”
Her tongue snakes out and runs across her top lip. “Maybe.”
Small town means big gossip. I’ve had my fair share of women, so I don’t doubt they tell a friend, and
