Anything but Minor - Kate Stewart Page 0,6
you’re probably new to this place, but if you want a beer this century, next time you come to the bar, and know what you want to order first, okay? What’ll you have?”
“Uh,” I said as I watched her face twist with worry with each passing second I hesitated. “Anything on draft,” I answered as I let her off the hook. Minutes later, she delivered my beer and a fresh bowl of peanuts. I realized I hadn’t done a thing about my appetite for the latter half of the day and started to shell and shove them in my mouth. My mouth bursting at the seams and dry from the salt, I gripped my cold beer and took a healthy swig.
The result was instant. I turned my head and blew everything in my mouth out in disgust just as the bar crowd roared to life in greeting...of the two men who had just walked in and stood next to me.
“What. The. Fuck!”
I turned to see the source of the voice covered in half eaten peanuts and spewed beer. I looked up as the man Dutch had called Bullet towered over me, and his hazel eyes burned a hole straight through me. Mouth gaping, I quickly started to apologize as I stared at a set of lips made for a movie star. If Angelina Jolie had a lip twin, it would definitely be this pair.
My eyes drifted down to his ruined shirt, which clung to his expansive chest and nicely cut tan arms, and then back to his lips which now twitched with amusement. “Andy, I don’t think she likes your stout.”
Another set of eyes pierced me that belonged to the man standing behind him. The man was just as handsome with reddish blond hair and blue eyes that watched me carefully before they narrowed. “That’s blasphemy,” he replied to Rafe with a hint of humor.
“I told you the last batch was shit,” Rafe said as he perused me, his conversation still with the man he called Andy.
Not only had I covered Rafe in disgusting peanut residue, but I’d also just insulted the bar owner and apparent brew master.
“Oh jeez, I’m so sorry. It’s not that I don’t like the beer. I hate it,” I pushed out quickly as I stood, grabbed a few napkins out of the dispenser, and began to dab and swipe at Rafe’s ruined shirt. Andy burst out laughing as I stuttered on. My eyes widened. “No, God, what I meant to say was I hate beer in general, and, oh crud, your shirt is totally ruined.”
“Maybe I should take yours,” he whispered as he bent down and stilled my hands.
I looked up at him. He was ridiculously tall at least 6’4” and had my height by almost a foot. “I don’t think it would fit.” More laughter from his friend as I continued. “I’m certain it won’t fit. Oh...you meant that sexually,” I said aloud as Andy’s faced turned crimson with his hard chuckle.
“You’re a doll,” Andy said as he motioned to the bartender. She quickly walked over to him. He whispered in her ear then looked to me. “I’ll have something else delivered. You’ll like this. I promise.”
“Th-thanks,” I said, taking my hands away from Rafe, who still held them as he stared down at me with the same amusement.
“Sorry again.”
“It happens,” he said as he wiped his face with the only clean part of his shirt.
“Forrest Gump,” I said with a laugh of my own.
“Sorry?”
“Uh, just that part where...never mind. Sorry...again.”
Rafe gave me another curious look before he and Andy made their way to the bar. I slumped into my seat and waited for my new drink. Congratulations and back pats were passed around as the guys took a seat and fresh beers were delivered to them along with a soaked bar towel and a fresh Swampgators t-shirt for Rafe. I held my breath as he ripped off the soiled shirt and saw his tan skin, and the barely visible etch of tattoos on his ribs below his arm and muscular back. I let out a sigh of approval as I pushed the bowl of peanuts away.
I drank down the delicious pineapple concoction set in front of me and tried to breathe through my embarrassment. I could do a lot of things well, but flirting had never been one of them. I’d never really had a chance to practice the art. Once my humiliation passed, I sat alone, a silent observer of what looked