Page 8 of Player For Hire

“Sure you can.” Callahan shrugged a suspended shoulder. He was the only one who didn’t wear the Lonegan’s black tee. Instead, he wore vintage T-shirts with old sports teams, or something rude across his broad chest. Today’s shirt was an obscure rugby team in a faded red with white logo. “Just keep it moving. Until eight.” He arched a brow meaningfully and deposited the glasses onto the bar in front of the guys. “That’ll be twenty, gentlemen.”

“Thanks, man.” The guy in front started passing them around. “Can we start a tab?”

“I got it.”

Cal nodded and moved off to the next customer.

I smiled and collected the card and name to keep the tab open for the guys before moving onto a giggling group of women who had been clogging up the works most of the night.

They were a few stragglers from the birthday sisters from one of the nearby greek houses. There were only a few more weeks left to the semester, and they must have been bored with the frat parties. I refilled their Lonagaritas, then I moved my way back down the bar toward Naomi and Iona.

Suddenly, a woman shouldered her way to the bar. She was the kind of stunning that made a man either back up and get out of the way or try his hand for a go. The hot, sharp-eyed Black woman was spearing the crowd with an assessing gaze.She turned back to the bar and waved me over.

“Tell me, Thor.”

I laughed. Chris Hemsworth, I was not. I didn’t even have his height, but I could tell she’d be vying for ballbuster status like Iona.

She held up one finger, her blood red nail sharp as a claw. “Firstly, can you make a decent Martini?”

“He can,” Iona answered for me. She gave the woman an arched brow, but she moved over enough to give her room.

The woman didn’t bother thanking her, just situated herself closer to the bar. “Good. I’ll have one of those—very dry, with three onions.” She glanced back at me with a direct look. “Who should I stay away from? I’m looking for a little fun before I have to buckle down with a project.”

I glanced at Iona then at Naomi who was twisting her glass slowly, then I cleared my throat. “Most of the men in here are polite.”

“Polite is boring,” she said with a sigh.

Iona leaned in on her a little. “Are you meaning fun, hot, or a little dangerous but not stalker-esque.”

The woman’s crimson lips peeled back from a wide white shark-like smile. “The latter.” She spared Naomi a glance, but she quickly dismissed her and went back to Iona. “You would know.”

Iona’s smile was less wide, but more than knowing. “Avoid the back corner. Pretty but he wouldn’t know the difference between a clit and an asshole.”

Naomi choked on the sip of her drink.

The other woman threw her head back with a bawdy laugh. “Then you definitely know. I just want to get laid without worrying about feelings. Is that so hard?”

My eyebrows shot up as I finished her Martini. There was nothing I could say that wouldn’t get me into trouble, but I was interested in Iona’s answer.

She was always a little wild and definitely notafraid of her sexuality. We’d danced around one another when I’d first started working here, but she scared me a little. I wasn’t entirely sure my balls wouldn’t have ended up in a glass on her bedside table when she was done with me.

“Most men are worried about us catching feelings, and then they’re the ones getting all hung up.”

“You definitely know then.” The stranger tapped the bar. “Her next drink is on me.”

Iona straightened. “Oh, you don’t need to do that.”

“I definitely do.” She turned on her stool. “I’m Dylan.”

“Iona and my friend, Naomi.”

Naomi gave a little finger wave.

“Nice to meet you.” She slid her card across the bar to me. “Start a tab for me, handsome.”

I grinned at her and wiped down the bar in front of her and poured the martini over the toothpick full of her preferred onions. “Can do.”

She took a sip and her dark eyes widened. “You do make a very fine martini. I’ll remember that.” She winked at me then spun on her stool and slid off. “Think I’ll try that tall drink of dark in the corner.”

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