Making It Right. Kathy AltmanЧитать онлайн книгу.
She turned away and scanned the mirrored shelves. She knew exactly where Snoozy kept the blue curaçao, but she needed a moment to remember how to breathe. Liz’s words may have been unkind, but they weren’t unfair.
She walked away from the furious whispers behind her, rolling her shoulders in a futile attempt to shake off her distress. Gratitude was what she should be feeling. For freedom. For second chances. For this job.
She caught sight of Nerdy-Looking Dude’s reflection in the mirror as he stood and stretched. The hem of his short-sleeved shirt rose, and Kerry stilled. Holy Hannah. Absently she added manly stomach muscles to her mental gratitude journal. She barely stopped herself from turning to get an eyeful of the real thing.
That was a surprise. Sitting behind his laptop, with his black-rimmed glasses and striped button-down shirt, he hadn’t looked quite so...toned.
He chugged the remains of his beer. Good. She was glad he was leaving, because she’d wasted way too much time and brain power wondering what the heck he was up to over there in the corner.
The woman with the Brass Monkey had been wondering, too. She sat two tables away, hunched over her drink, chin in hand as she watched Nerdy-Looking Dude’s every move. He hadn’t glanced her way once. Probably because she had a good ten years on him. He looked to be around thirty. Kerry’s age.
The longing on the woman’s face made Kerry want to give her a hug.
She grabbed the bottle of curaçao and turned back to her customers. While Parker, Allison and Liz stood in a huddle, continuing their confab while watching Kerry’s every move, Kerry grabbed a highball glass and two hurricanes and set them on the bar mat. As she reached for the shaker, she tipped over one of the hurricane glasses. Luckily she caught it before it rolled off the mat, but her rhythm was off. She’d never manage to mix these drinks without breaking something.
She dumped crushed ice into the shaker and added blue curaçao, coconut cream, pineapple juice and white rum. Liquor dripped all over her hand and down the side of the bottle. The pourer was loose on the rum. With a slow inhale and exhale, she reseated it.
The whispering intensified. She wiped her hands on her jeans, reached for the shaker lid and promptly dropped it. It thumped onto the floor and she wanted to drop down beside it.
A distraction. She needed one. Desperately.
Snoozy, where are you?
A cheer erupted at the pool table, but it wasn’t enough to pull the trio’s focus from Kerry and the mess she was making of their drinks. For God’s sake, where was a fire when you needed one?
Thunk. An empty beer mug appeared before her. She looked up and met the brown-eyed gaze of Nerdy-Looking Dude.
“Maybe you ladies could wait for your drinks over there.” He nodded at the booth farthest from the bar, pulled a handful of coins from his pocket and let them clatter onto the counter. “I have some negotiating to do. I’d rather you not add to my humiliation by watching.”
Kerry swallowed a sigh of relief as Allison led Parker and Liz over to the booth. She nodded her thanks, and wiped her hands on a towel. “Another beer?”
“Boston lager,” he said, and settled on a stool as she fetched a mug. “Better make it half.” He gestured at the change on the bar and flashed a sweet pair of dimples. “Not enough coin, and all.”
“And make myself look too cheap to spot you?” She set a full mug in front of him and went back to mixing cocktails. “Besides, I owe you. You probably saved me having to replace a good twenty dollars in glassware.”
He shrugged. “All I know is I had a drink emergency.”
“Your last drink sat in front of you for an hour before you finished it.”
“Hence the emergency. I need something to wash away the taste of warm brew.”
If only he’d stayed in the corner. The abs and the gallantry had been intriguing enough. Now she was getting an up-close-and-personal view of attractively rumpled blond hair and a strong, stubble-covered chin. The regret she’d brought into the bar was extending beyond money matters.
Damn it.
She finished up her orders as quickly as she could, the sound of the shaker precluding further conversation. As nice as the guy had been, the last thing she needed was to encourage anyone to take an interest in her. When she’d tended bar in college, she’d been instructed to develop a following. A bartender with fans meant higher sales numbers and bigger tips. Win-win.
Only she didn’t want fans. Not now. Not here. Didn’t need them, either. What she needed was to keep her head down and do a good job and hopefully secure a solid reference for the next gig, whatever that might be.
Eugenia had shown her a lot of undeserved faith. No way Kerry would let her down.
She went overboard on the garnishes for all three cocktails. With a cheerful smile, she delivered the drinks, made recommendations for round two that involved neither mint nor pineapple juice, checked on her other customers and returned to the bar well to clean up.
Nerdy-Looking Dude sat silently sipping his beer while she washed and dried her implements and wiped down the bar. Now she needed a distraction from her distraction.
Said distraction was stacking up the coins he’d tossed on the bar. “You need a tip jar.”
“I think that’s a little premature.”
He gave her a half smile that could charm the stripes off a tiger. “I’m Gil. Gil Cooper.” He extended his hand across the bar.
“Kerry.” His hand was hard and warm around hers. She refused to let it give her ideas.
“I take it, Bartender Kerry, that this is your first night on the job?”
“Hopefully not my last.”
“So that—” he made an almost imperceptible motion with his head toward the newly occupied booth “—was just first-night jitters? Or did they say something to you?”
“Jitters,” she said easily. He knew the three friends. She could tell. Even if their suspicions weren’t justified, she had no intention of stirring up trouble.
He reached for the bowl of pretzels she’d set out and knocked over the stacks of coins. His hand jerked in a belated attempt to keep the towers intact, and pretzels scattered across the bar. Seemed they were two of a kind. He muttered under his breath and cleaned up after himself.
She forced her gaze away from his hands. “Can I ask you a question?”
“No,” he said, brightening. “I’m not married.”
She fought a smile by pursing her lips. “I was going to ask if you’re a regular.”
“I’m thinking we don’t know each other well enough to discuss my bathroom habits.”
“Not irregular. A regular.” His sense of silliness sparked a wistfulness inside that she had no business feeling. “Do you come here often? To—” she used both hands to gesture from him to the laptop he’d abandoned at the corner table “—do whatever it is you do?”
“I am a regular.” He dusted the salt from his hands. “Starting tonight. Is that your question?”
No way she was responding to that, though in an absurd way, his declaration made her feel less lonely.
“My question is, does she bother you?” She jerked her chin toward the pen. “Mitzi? Everyone seems to take her in stride.”
“She bothers you.”
“I don’t count.” When he raised an eyebrow, she added, “I mean, I won’t be here long. I’m only filling in while Snoozy’s on his honeymoon.”
“He’ll be gone a couple of weeks, right?”
“Three.”