What You See (Sons of the Survivalist #3) - Cherise Sinclair Page 0,15
piece of shit.
“Vai a farti fottere.”
Yes, he should go f-bomb himself.
She could see why his poor lover had fallen for him, because the guy was very much sex-on-a-stick. Start with that resonant, cavernous voice. Add in appearance: massive and hugely muscled. His skin was just slightly darker than her Italian heritage had given her. His mesmerizing black eyes, shaved scalp, and black goatee with a sprinkling of silver reinforced he was all man.
No one viewing him would realize he was such a jerk. Yet, five minutes after emotionally gutting a woman who loved him, he was flirting with every woman at the bar. It was typical behavior for shallow, heartless chick magnets like her ex.
Over at the other section of the bar, Felix caught her gaze. “Doing good, Frankie.”
She smiled back. The effervescent waiter was such a darling. He’d helped orient her to her job earlier.
After working for a bit, she noticed drink orders were getting filled faster. The new bartender was very efficient. And, even if she hated to admit it, his arrival had changed the mood in the place. Everyone seemed friendlier. Happier.
As she walked up to the waitstaff station, two people slid onto empty stools—a curvy blonde woman and a black-haired man who reminded her of a stunning, young Antonio Banderas.
“Good evening,” she greeted them.
“I see the roadhouse has a new server. Welcome to Rescue. How long have you been in town?” The man had a smooth, Hispanic-accented voice.
Was he flirting? No, he just seemed friendly. “This is my third day here.”
“Oh, I bet you’re the woman who rented a cabin from Dante.” When Frankie nodded, the blonde held out her hand. “I’m Audrey. I run the library—and sometimes help with waiting tables here, too.”
“Frankie.” Frankie shook her hand. “It’s good to meet you.”
Audrey motioned to the man beside her. “Caz, commonly known as Doc, runs the health clinic.”
“Chica, I’m not a doctor.” He frowned at Audrey. “How did you manage to convince Gabe you’re so sweet?”
She smiled. “Love. It’s blind.”
Laughing, Frankie turned to check on the bartenders. Still busy. She smiled at Caz and Audrey. “You have a very friendly town.”
It’d surprised her how much she enjoyed being here—and even working in a bar. Handing out drinks was much better than dealing with oh-so-entitled models, photographers, and agents.
“It is friendly, especially now. After a long Alaska winter, everyone’s happy to see new faces,” Caz said.
“I bet.” Before she could say more, the big asshole bartender slipped the drink orders from her hand and grinned at the new customers. “Where’s Gabe?”
“He’s on his way in,” Audrey said. “He was playing with paperwork and budgets.”
“Now, that’s just sad.” The bartender flipped through Frankie’s orders.
“Hey, Caz is here,” someone farther down the bar shouted, then slapped the bar top. “Song, song, song.”
“No mames, güey.” Caz lifted his hands in exasperation.
The chant spread from around the bar to everyone in the room. “Song, song, song.”
Despite the words Frankie had translated to mean something like seriously, dude, Caz shook his head in resignation and asked Audrey, “You in?”
Snickering, she shook her head no. “My throat is sore. Lillian made me help act out a book for the preschoolers.”
Frankie leaned on the bar. What in the world was going on?
With one hand, the bartender was drawing a beer, with the other, he slid a wireless microphone down the bar top. “You’re up, Doc. “Let’s have ‘Hakuna Matata’.”
Caz sighed and picked the mic up. “You owe me, ’mano. That beer better be cold.”
“Always.”
At the bartender’s dazzling smile, Frankie’s heart completely skipped a beat. Cribbio—sheesh. All that intense confident masculinity was intimidating.
She forced her gaze away and saw Caz flick the mic on…and start the bouncy tune from The Lion King.
When the bartender picked up a mic and joined in, Frankie’s mouth dropped open. The man had a gorgeous bass voice.
The two were spectacular. They sang harmony, added their own sound effects, and when they reached the chorus, the bartender waved at the room and yelled, “You bastards have had plenty to drink. Join your asses in—or I’m cutting you all off.”
Laughter ran through the room, and everyone in the place started to sing.
Mouth open, Frankie stared. It was amazing.
As she returned to serving drinks, Caz and the bartender sang another tune, and this time the customers didn’t wait to join in.
When she returned to the bar the next time, the music was still bubbling in her veins. She’d sung along, too. Everyone in the place was smiling.