Eddie chuckled as he sealed the last envelope of trivia questions. The boss rarely drank alcohol, but she sure as shit knew how to sell it.
Dawn continued reciting the rules. “Our beautiful servers will hand out the questions for each round. If you open the envelope before I call Start, your team is disqualified. And no Googling!”
“Aww, Dawn, Google is our friend,” some guy called out. His chucklehead buddies hooted and clapped.
Dawn lowered her reading glasses. “This ain’t the Jeopardy Championship, son, just a fun charity game. But if you need a T-shirt that bad, you can have mine.” Waggling her eyebrows, she tugged the hem upward, flashing a swath of round belly.
Laughter filled the bar.
“Tonight’s proceeds go to the Tacoma Rescue Mission. We ready?”
Back at the bar, Rosie’s fingers brushed Eddie’s as she collected the envelopes for her section. Tingles danced up his arm from the point of contact. Too hell with common sense. He grasped her hand and held it for a moment.
Her eyebrows shot up. “What?”
He shrugged. “I miss you.”
And I want you more than I want oxygen. And I can’t believe you don’t want me anymore, after the way you fell apart in my arms.
Snippets of memory tormented him: Rosie peeling off her sparkly red sweater to reveal a galaxy of images adorning her silky skin. The teasing brush of her bright blue curls on his bare chest and belly as she slid down, down…the liquid heat of her pussy as he drove into her body…the sting of her teeth nipping his shoulder…
Rosie’s gaze dropped. She slid her hand from his and backed away. “I, uh, gotta do this.” She waved the stack of envelopes.
He watched her slide through the crowd, flirtatious and funny and not his. It fuckin’ hurt.
“On your mark, get set, trivia!” Dawn’s shout popped his lovesick bubble. After restocking glassware, cutting fresh lemons and limes, and wiping up spills, he paused to suck down a cola and search the crowd for Rosie.
There she was at a high-top by the window, tray propped on her hip, chatting with a tattooed dude nearly as big as Jojo. Despite the icy weather, the guy wore a sleeveless T-shirt beneath his leather vest. Elaborate tattoos covered both beefy arms and wound up his thick neck. Shaved head, bushy red beard, probably had a Harley parked outside. He leaned in close to say something to Rosie, who tossed her head back and laughed.
Icicles stabbed Eddie’s gut. Who was he kidding, with his sappy “I miss you” and lame gift? This guy was Rosie’s type: big, buff, badass. Eddie rubbed his own skinny, ink-free arm. Maybe if he got a tattoo…
Don’t be stupid. Needles make me puke. But man, what he’d give to see Rosie light up for him the way she lit up for Harley Dude over there. Her smile shone so bright, strong enough to fan the tiny flame he carried inside and build it into…
He shook his head. Whatever lame metaphor he was reaching for crumbled under the weight of cruel reality. Rosie wasn’t for him. Later, once he accomplished his goals, he’d look for a nice woman, someone more like himself—serious, goal-oriented, methodical. Someone to help run the bar he dreamed of, maybe even start a family.
He pulled out his notebook and traced a finger over that day’s bullet-point list. There was plenty in here to keep his mind off regrets—a Marketing project due next Monday and a paper for Business Ethics due Friday. And a suit fitting for his cousin’s wedding.
Someone rapped on the bar, pulling his attention back to the task at hand. “Time for round two, Eddie.” Lana twirled one of her long black pigtails, braided with ribbons in Seahawks blue and green.
He handed over the next stack of envelopes.
Lana fanned herself with them and tilted her head. “You and Rosie fighting already?”
Heat rushed to his cheeks. “What? No.” He grabbed a bar towel and scrubbed at an imaginary smudge. “Why do you ask?”
“You guys stay on opposite sides of the room. Not like Charlie and River.”
Sure enough, Charlie was behind the bar again. While River garnished a trio of tall fruity cocktails with mint and orange slices, she grabbed a handful of his ass.
“Get a room,” Lana called.
“What?” Charlie batted her lashes. “I’m just helping with this drink order.”
“Ain’t no one ordered a River-ass-tini,” Lana parried before turning back to Eddie and lowering her voice. “Everything okay? Want me to talk to Rosie?”
“I do not.”
She would anyway, though. Lana and Rosie were tight, which meant their fake dating secret wouldn’t last long under Lana’s BFF scrutiny. Eddie beckoned her closer. “The thing is, we’re both kind of cautious about the co-workers dating thing. Dawn’s not a fan, and—”
“Gotcha.” She patted his arm. “Smart of you, unlike those two horndogs.” She tilted her head toward Charlie and River. “I mean, what’ll we do if they break up? I love them both, but I’d have to pick Team Charlie.”
“Why?”
“Sisterhood, silly boy.” She loaded up her tray and sailed off to distribute booze and trivia questions.
The crowd gradually thinned as teams were eliminated from the competition. On a pass through the main seating area to collect empties, Eddie stopped at the doorway where Jojo checked IDs and monitored for dust-ups. “Need anything?”
“Just the love of a good woman.” He lifted his square chin toward the pool tables, where Rosie leaned against a column, scribbling in the blue notebook he’d given her. “Never seen anyone draw so fast. She’s got talent, your girl.”
Not my girl. The reminder stung. Why had he never seen her artwork? Time to fix that.
He loaded up his bus tray with empties, slowly working his way toward Rosie, still intent on her drawing. But before he reached her, Dawn called, “You done with your break, Rosie?”
“Yes ma’am.” She snapped the notebook shut and hustled to the stage. Dawn handed over the mic and hopped down. Passing
