get his Slugger to my knees because this bar is the only thing keeping me from backing Willow up against the long stretch of wood and learning everything about her. So I make the safe choice, something I’m not always known for.
Waving her down, I see her throat work as she swallows, but she heads my way.
“Another J.D.?”
She thinks we’re keeping this all business. We’re most definitely not.
“Yes, please.” I’m an asshole, but I’ve got manners, especially when I need them, and something tells me I’m going to need every trick I’ve got with Willow.
While she pours, I try to engage her. “Richard says you’re Hank’s niece? That why he let you into the sacred space known as ‘behind the bar’?”
“Yeah, though my years of experience as a bartender probably didn’t hurt.” Her eyes sparkle behind her glasses as she pricks back at my unflattering assumption. Well, if my sister, Shayanne, said that, it’d be a sarcastic snapback. Willow seems to just be stating facts.
“Must be why he also said you’re a good bartender. Actually, his words were ‘damn good’. Which is high praise from him.”
I swear there’s the slightest hint of pink on her cheeks, but it might be the neon lights. She looks down the bar and scolds with a single word. “Richard.” He grins and shrugs like ‘whatcha gonna do?’ and she rolls her eyes, any tiny bit of ire already evaporating as she laughs along with him like they’re old friends.
I lean in. “Don’t be mad at him. He’s just trying to help me out.”
She leans in too, elbows on the bar and head tilted my way. “You usually need help? Seems like you’ve got your pick of women to take home tonight.”
That was most definitely an insult, the slight crinkle in her pixie nose clearly showing her distaste as she looks past me. I can imagine what she sees. Bar bunnies, mostly local girls, who see me as some sort of mythical unicorn-level creature, a dirt-roughened cowboy who sings about love and forever. The truth? I’ve seen love and I know it’s real, but I’ve never been in love myself. I figure I’ll know it when I feel it, though.
“Not my style. I’m a pickier sort, and right now, I need all the help Richard can give me because I think I’m in real danger of striking out.” My eyes tick down to her pink lips, which tilt up ever so slightly, letting me know I’m not that close to the danger line.
“What’s your type?” she says, barely louder than a whisper so that the conversation is just between us. “Maybe I can help you out too.”
I scan her slowly. “A blonde with glasses, a nose I want to rub with mine, lips I want to taste, sweet smiles she hands out to everyone she sees, she heavy pours Jack Daniels for me, a new to town city girl I’d love to show around so she can take pictures of anything her heart desires.” Tension builds in the inches between us with my every word.
I’m coming on hard, and I know it. I pray it’s not too much because this is me holding tight restraint over every caveman urge I have, gentling them for her as best I can.
She ducks her chin for a second before lifting it again. Completely unaffected by my charm, she asks, “Does that usually work?”
She doesn’t believe me, thinks I’m feeding her bullshit like some bar schmuck looking for a hookup. The worst part is that I’m telling the God’s honest truth.
“Not a line. Mean every word.” I move my hand to my chest, feeling the racing thump against my palm. “Cross my heart.”
She nods. “Uh-huh.” But she looks a little less sure that I’m being slick.
Olivia reappears at the end of the bar. “You have no idea how much I hate to interrupt this, but three margaritas or table two is gonna riot.”
The moment pops like a bubble and Willow stands upright. “Oh, sorry. I’ve got them.” She moves down to the other end of the bar, and I feel the loss of her, though she’s only a few feet away, her eyes focused on the mixers in front of her.
“Not used to seeing you like this,” Olivia says, a question laced in the comment.
“Okay.” Words aren’t my strong suit unless I’m singing them, and those take me weeks, or sometimes even months, to get just right.
“Take it slow and don’t hurt her. She’s got something going on, something