Ten minutes later I’m still alone behind the bar and Avery is nowhere to be found. I’m sure she’s in the back alley smoking, even though she swears every day that she’s quit. I check the IDs of three very young-looking pretty girls—they’re over twenty-one, but barely. I can’t miss their conversation.
“Seriously, he has to be gay.”
“Why, because he hasn’t noticed you yet?”
“No, because he’s too perfect to be straight.”
“Could we buy someone a drink?” one of the young blondes asks me.
“Of course. What do you want me to send over?”
They giggle for a few minutes, then decide on a Screaming Orgasm for their intended target. I mix the vodka, Bailey’s and Kahlua and pour it over a tumbler of ice.
“Okay. Who’s the lucky recipient?”
All three of them point to the other end of the bar and say in unison, “Him.”
Lord. That is one beautiful man.
The three blondes were clearly not the only ones to notice. The brunette next to him with her full boobage on display is giving him her rapt attention when I walk over. Yet I feel his eyes on me as I walk down the long bar. I’m used to being hit on. Men seem to find an attractive woman whose sole purpose is to deliver them alcohol an alluring combination. They tend to become even bolder after tossing back a few drinks.
Halfway down the bar, I stop to refill a beer for a patron. I don’t need to look up as I pour to know Beautiful Man is still watching me. The hair on the back of my neck is all the confirmation I need. He never takes his gaze off me, even when I turn, catch his eyes, and silently call him on his staring.
“I’m here to deliver you a Screaming Orgasm.” Damn, he’s even hotter up close. Sandy-brown, shoulder-length hair tousled just the right amount to make him look like he’s just gotten laid. Long, lean torso, tattoos on his forearms peeking out from his long-sleeve fitted shirt. Nice. Then he smiles. Dimples. Yep. He definitely just got laid.
“Thank you. But I have a ladies-first policy.” He winks.
I stare at him for a moment, then drop my eyes down to the drink, leading him to follow.
“Oh. You meant the drink.” He smirks—it’s sexy as hell, and he knows it.
I roll my eyes, but there’s a reluctant smile hidden just beneath the surface. “It’s from the three barely legal ladies down at the end.” I nod in their direction and all three smile broadly and wave.
“Well, that’s disappointing.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Those three women buying you a drink with a name that tells you what their plans are for you later is a disappointment?”
“I thought you were buying me the drink.”
Cheesy, I know, but there’s a flutter in my stomach nonetheless. “Sorry. But you get the Doublemint triplets as a consolation prize.” I shrug, trying to come off nonchalant, and turn to walk away. This close to him, the guy is making me fidget. It’s a big bar, but the way he looks at me makes me feel like we’re in a confined space.
“Wait,” he calls after me, and I turn back. “What’s your name?”
I smile and point at the sign over the bar. Lucky’s.
The bar is hectic, but it doesn’t stop me from keeping tabs on him. He nodded and held up his glass in thanks to the three women, but never walked down to meet them. Eventually, the trio of buxom blondes made their way to his end of the bar. They did their best at keeping his attention. He smiled politely, but it was clear he wasn’t interested. Which seriously shocked me, because I would have bet the bar that he could have taken all three of them home.
“Hey, Lucky,” Beautiful Man calls from the end of the bar when I finish waiting tables.
“Another Screaming Orgasm?”
“If you’re talking alcohol, I’ll pass and take a beer instead.”
I grab a pint glass and pour a tall Guinness without asking what kind of beer he wants. I slide it toward him on the smooth waxed bar and ask, with an impish grin, “What if I wasn’t talking about the alcohol?”
“We would already be out the door, sweetheart.” Another wink, only this time he adds a crooked smile to the dimples on his ridiculously sexy face. There’s a boyish quality to his smile, but a quick glance at the rest of him finds nothing but solid man. He sips his beer. “Guinness. My favorite. Nice choice.”
Avery saddles up to the bar, a few spots over from Beautiful Man, and tosses her round serving tray in my direction. “Pearls wants another drink. Looks like your twenty is coming home with me, because I’m pretty sure she’s going to pass out from the next one, not get up on stage.”
I look over at the redhead with the tight bun. She’s shimmying out of her navy blazer. Not only does she have incredible shoes, but with her blazer unbuttoned, her tiny waist and sinewy curves are on display—she’s got a great body hidden under her suit and pearls. I’d guess there’s a red lace demi-cup bra to match the G-string.
“You see that redhead over there?” I ask Beautiful Man.
“The one with her hair up?”
“That’s the one. I have twenty that says she gets up to sing and turns into a siren on stage before the night is out.”
Beautiful Man arches his eyebrows. “Doesn’t look like the type to me.”
“Don’t listen to her.” Avery dismisses me with her hand. “She also thinks she’s wearing a red G-string under there.”
“I’d like to hear this one.”
“You can tell a lot about a person by what they wear. A woman who spends on shoes but dresses conservatively likes nice things, even if no one is seeing them. Strip a woman down to her underwear, you’ll learn a lot about her.” I shrug. “I’ve been here practically every day for seven years. I’m good at picking the closet rockstars.”
He sips his beer and studies the redhead. “You ever get up there?” he asks me, only I don’t have the chance to answer before Avery chimes in.
“She could be up on a real stage if she wanted to. But she’s got arachnophobia.”
Beautiful Man looks to me with a furrowed brow. “Fear of spiders?”
“Ignore her.” I roll my eyes at Avery and make her drink order. “Tell Pearls this one is on the house.” It’s almost all orange juice. I started cutting back the alcohol in her drinks two rounds ago. Wouldn’t want Pearls to fall over before her debut performance here at Lucky’s.
It’s nearly two in the morning when the DJ announces last call for karaoke sign-ups. The crowd at the bar has thinned out, but the tables are still keeping Avery busy. It’s do-or-die time for the nervous hopefuls who came in with plans to get up on stage. Half usually make it, the other half stumble out inebriated from excess liquid courage.
Beautiful Man has spent hours fending off women, many drunk, gorgeous and easy. With an inexplicable gravitational pull, my eyes seem to track his whereabouts at all times. It’s impossible to disregard his presence. I’m surprised to find him at the sign-up desk chatting with the DJ after his second trip to the bathroom.
“You came in to sing tonight?” I ask, refilling his beer when he returns to the seat he’s spent all night at. “Wouldn’t have taken you for the kind who needs alcohol to boost your confidence to get up there.”
He sips his beer. “What would you take me as?”
I squint, pretending to assess him, and lean on the bar. He looks amused. “I would have said a player, but I’ve watched you fend off easy pickin’s all night, so now I’m not really sure what to make of you actually.” I shrug. “Are you here to sing?”
“Wasn’t planning on it. Was supposed to meet someone here, but he called a few hours ago and said he got stuck and couldn’t make it. Didn’t even know it was a karaoke bar until I walked in.”
“Interesting. But your friend canceled hours ago, yet you’re still here. So you’re on the prowl after all? You know, I don’t think you’re very good at it. You’re supposed to show interest in the ones you want to take home at the end of the night.”
Beautiful Man smiles; he’s completely irresistible. “I have been.”