Page 61 of Every Beautiful Mile

Thank you very much.

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“Part of your problem is this isn’t very organized,” I say, scrunching my nose at the chaos.

The crowd has thinned out just enough for a teaching moment that he desperately needs.

I point to an area of randomly open bottles and mixers. “Do you have some kind of system here or…?” My voice trails off as we look around. It looks like the bar was teleported from a warzone.

“Maybe?” he says, scratching his neck. “This clearly isn’t my area of expertise. Usually I’m in the kitchen.”

For the first time, I notice his eyes. They’re a color that can’t decide if it wants to be blue or green, and they sit on his face like two small pools of the ocean. It’s a color so intense I have to look away.

“Well, you can learn how to make a drink, but I’ll tell you that knowing where everything is can help you a ton when you get in a situation like this. For the sake of all these poor people, I hope you never have to get back here again, but at least learning the layout can help.” I pause, considering the situation. “And I typically take an order and work the easiest drinks first, then the more complicated ones. If you do that, you won’t drown… as fast.”

His eyes meet mine, and there’s the faintest flicker of something. Admiration?

“Hi, Ethan,” a woman’s voice cuts in. With long dark hair, big blue eyes, and lips she’s licking like a fox in a henhouse, she slides coolly onto a stool.

Turning away from me, he leans against the bar to face her.

“Hey, you.” His voice comes out as smooth as velvet.

“Ethan.” She giggles. “It’s Megan, silly. I got a haircut since the last time we went out.” She flicks her hair around.

“I know. I like it,” he says with that smirk, wiping the bar in front of her.

“You haven’t returned my calls. I thought we had a connection.” She taps her fingernail on his forearm that rests on the bar, and I’m instantly annoyed.

Irrationally annoyed.

His eyes meet mine, and I snort a laugh as I drop an empty bottle into the trash.

“Haven’t I? I’ve been busy.” He scratches the back of his head. “Can I get you a drink?” he asks.

She pouts. “No, I’m with friends. I just wanted to say hi. I didn’t know you were so busy. I’m free after this...” her voice trails off, but her eyes linger long enough to relay everything she’s thinking, earning a smile from him before she walks away.

An obvious fact reveals itself at that moment. Ethan has been flirting with me in his emails, but it’s because Ethan flirts with all women.

I can’t tell if all the blood leaves or rushes toward my head as I look at him. I’m mortified.

I know I can’t run away, so instead I hand him a ticket and hear myself say, “For such an ass, you certainly have a lot of women fawning over you.”

I don’t wait for him to respond before I greet the next people who take their seats at the bar.

Twenty-five

“I was a dick,” Ethan says as he clears dishes from the bar.

I laugh under my breath but don’t look at him as I wash glasses in the sink.

Over the last hour and a half, it has become painfully obvious he’s a good-looking man. Fine, a very good-looking man. His thick hair looks as if he’s been running his hands through it all day, and the few strands of silver that sweep through it somehow add to his appeal. I’ve never liked facial hair, but the way the slightest stubble covers his jaw is borderline delicious.

I’m not even going to think about his eyes. Or forearms. Or the low timbre of his voice that combines with the faintest of Maine accents.

The realization this man is, in fact, hot, makes heat crawl up my neck.

What the hell is wrong with me?

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