A Guy Walks Into My Bar - Lauren Blakely Page 0,114
the happiest man in the world when he says, “I do.”
And then I kiss the groom.
Something I plan to do every day for the rest of my life.
Maeve’s Epilogue
A few weeks ago
After I close one evening in May, I survey the pool table in a corner of The Magpie, the one I decided to get because it reminds me of Dean, as if a little piece of my friend is still here.
I can hear him in my head, assessing the guys, deciding which one’ll tempt me tonight.
One of the benefits of the game Dean and I played was that it kept me from jumping into a bad choice. And I’ve made some. Plenty of guys seem good on paper and then turn out to be total wastes of time.
Take Jeremy, the best and worst of them. Went to Cambridge, nabbed a fancy law degree, dressed like James Bond. He wrote poetry on the side and would read it to me while we sat on the balcony.
It was perfect. Except, of course, for how he was doing private poetry readings for some other woman at the same time.
But that’s all in the past, because I’ve found the perfect relationship. I pour my soul into this one, and in return, it just gets better and better. It’s a lot of work, but The Magpie will never let me down.
I find the flyer for the tasting event on my desk. The Bars and Wineries of London tasting tomorrow. While there I’ll have the chance to talk up what I love.
Makes missing my best friend a little bit easier.
The next morning, I’m one of the first to arrive at the event hotel, dressed in leggings and a casual top, with my dress and heels packed in a bag.
I start hanging up the faux flowers and lights I picked out for the booth, and then I grab the glassware and liquor bottles for our sample cocktail.
“Look who didn’t tell me she’d be here.” The deep baritone voice sends a spark along my skin. I turn to find Sam’s dark eyes glinting at me, paired with his sexy, crooked grin, like gin and vermouth.
“Sam, you sneaky man. I could say the same—why didn’t you tell me you were going to be here? I saw you a couple of weeks ago, and you never mentioned it.”
“A man’s got to have some mystery,” he says.
“Well, your secret’s out of the bag now. Good to see you.”
That’s the truth. It’s no hardship to be looking at his fabulous face. With a strong jaw, smoldering eyes, and just the right amount of scruff, he’s always been easy on the eyes. Plus, his sexy American accent just does it for me.
Not that I gave him a second thought until recently. When I first met him a few years ago, he was married, which established him firmly in the “just mates” column.
As a friend of Dean’s, we always found ourselves at the same parties and events and I got to know him better after his split, and he became my friend too.
“And you. Looks like I lucked out with my booth neighbor,” Sam says, drawing me into a hug. He feels so solid pressed against me, and he smells like clean sandalwood. I catch myself breathing him in and step back.
“How’s Sticks and Stones doing?”
“No complaints. The bigger question is how are you doing without Dean?”
“I miss him terribly, especially when I need someone to lift heavy things or reach high shelves. Speaking of, I have to go find a ladder to get these tassels hung up.”
I hold up the gold-and-silver tassels I brought to liven up the top of the booth.
“He’s not the only tall guy around, you know. I can give you a hand.”
“Oh, I’m fine,” I say. I’ve gotten used to going it alone. “I’ll just stretch high.”
Sam laughs, low and hearty. “What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t step in to help?”
I glance behind me at the booth.
But on the other hand, I could use the help. “I do need to get changed. Would you be willing to hang some stuff up while I run to the loo?”
Sam frowns. “Wait a minute. You’re not going to wear those fine leggings?”
Oh, did he just compliment my legs? I think he did, and I liked it.
“Sadly, no. I need to look like a professional. Ergo, no yoga pants.”
Sam sighs. “Such a shame. But I guess I’ll help you out anyway.”