Page 9 of Player For Hire

My gaze followed hers and my eyebrows shot up. I couldn’t remember the last time the owner of my building had been in Lonegan’s. Before I could warn her off of that particular customer, Dylan was gliding through the crowd.

Evidently, Royce Warner was going to have to watch himself.

CHAPTER 4

NAOMI

The bar was surprisingly comfortable, even with the crush of people. I wasn’t much for going out to drink—or eat, for that matter—but I could see why Iona liked the vibe.

The ceilings were high, the vibe was easygoing, and the music didn’t pulse like in the clubs I’d been dragged to in the past.

It was loud, that was for sure, but it didn’t have that bass that vibrated in the chest. This was more like background noise, familiar and fun. Since it was a ladies’ night type of atmosphere, there was the slick overtone of the hookup culture and desperation tinged the air like smoke.

Loneliness echoed around in certain faces.

Not all.

But for every group of fun-loving women, there was one who was searching just a little too hard. Or who was hitting on Colder with a touch too much focus. The other man with the heavier beard got just as much play, but he seemed more oblivious to it.

Callahan, I think I’d heard Colder say.

He was more no nonsense with a side of friendly. Surface.

Colder was…more.

More charm, more crinkles at the corners of his eyes from his perpetual smile, more sex appeal. He was effortlessly building drinks, his long fingers competent and practiced as he poured, shook, wiped, and replaced drinks. All with an easiness I couldn’t fathom.

Watching him pulled something in my…stomach. Maybe lower.

I wasn’t used to that. I’d never been the type to notice such things. I was generally more interested in a man’s brain. Nice features were a bonus, muscles not required. In fact, I’d rarely been attracted to people who cared about such things.

Walking was good enough for me to keep fit and strong. My cubical mates at Webster had talked me into doing a yoga class here and there, but I wasn’t much of a joiner when it came to a room full of people sweating and chatting.

Much like a bar, but a bit safer.

I generally enjoyed the people watching when I couldn’t get out of a social outing, and Lonegan’s definitely applied there. Ages ranged from a newly minted twenty-one to a few in their sixties at the side table near the window—and everything in-between. An honest-to-God neighborhood bar.

But I couldn’t stop my gaze from drifting back to Colder.

The tanned arms, rippling with muscles. The dimple that flashed when he was truly tickled into a laugh. He smiled, no doubt about that, but he didn’t give a deep chuckle all that often.

Made me wonder if his surface was similar to the proprietor, just offered up a little differently.

“Gonna need a napkin for that drool soon.”

I glanced at Iona. “That obvious?”

She grinned and took a sip from her drink. She’d switched over to seltzer and vodka for a second drink. Colder had added a splash of cherry juice to give it a lovely pink shade to go with the bright green lime.

Artist.

Surprisingly, he didn’t just shuffle drinks. The backup bartender who had showed up twenty minutes after we’d arrived didn’t have his finesse. He was sloppy and barely filled the glass enough to cover the cost of a drink.

Callahan caught him a few times, and his jaw flexed with annoyance.

Subtly, Colder shuffled him toward the simpler drinks like beer and cider. The new bartender seemed far more worried about flirting and gathering numbers than doing his job. He had a slick look and reeked of too much cologne.

I wasn’t mad that Colder seemed to urge the new guy toward the other end of the bar, keeping us company when he could. Just like now. He came down with a tall gin glass full of my preferred ginger ale and frozen raspberries bobbing around the crushed ice.

---