Page 27 of Stay with Me

I tried to step away again, but didn’t get anywhere. My chest rose sharply on a deep inhale. “Why do you care so much about this bar?”

It was his turn to blink. “What do you mean?”

“Why have you put so much effort into it? You could be working at a better place, probably dealing with less stress than running a bar you don’t own.”

Jax stared at me a moment, and then his hands slid off my shoulders, down my upper arms, leaving a trail of shivers in their wake before he dropped them completely. “You know, if you knew me better, you wouldn’t have to ask the question.”

“I don’t know you.”

“Exactly.” He stepped around me and headed back out to the bar, leaving me standing in the hall, more than a little confused.

Of course I didn’t know him. I’djustmet him yesterday, so what the hell? It was just a question. I turned, flipping my hair back over my left shoulder. I breathed in. Then I breathed out.

I had a problem.

Well, I hadlotsof problems, but I also had a new one.

I wanted to get to know Jackson—Jax—James better and I shouldn’t. That should be the last thing I wanted, but it wasn’t.

Bartending washard.

Because of basically growing up in bars, I’d avoided them once I’d left home and it had been years since I’d really been inside one. Back in the day, I knew how to make most mixed drinks just from seeing them done so many times, but now? I officially sucked at it. Like sucked hard-core. On almost every mixed drink, my eyes were glued to the cocktail menu taped near the serving well.

Luckily, Jax wasn’t a dick about it. When someone came in, which they started to do around three, one after another, and they ordered a drink that sounded like a different language to me, he didn’t make it hard for me. Instead, he stepped back, giving soft corrections if I reached for the wrong mixer or poured too little or too much of a liquor.

Having worked as a waitress, I knew I could smile my way through about every mess-up. With old and rheumy-eyed men, it worked even better.

“Take your time, sweetie,” one older man said when I had to toss his drink since I wasn’t good at free pouring and probably poured enough liquor to kill the dude. “All I got is time.”

“Thank you.” I smiled as I redid the drink, which was a simple gin and tonic. “Better?”

The man took a sip and winked. “Perfect.”

As he stepped away, heading to a table near one of the pool tables, Jax moved in from behind me. “Here. Let me show you how to free pour.” Reaching around me, he grabbed one of the shorter glasses and then picked up the gin. “Paying attention?”

Uh.

He was standing so close to my side I could feel his freaking body heat. He could be talking about how many times Mars circled the sun for all I knew. “Sure,” I murmured.

“We don’t really use jiggers, but it’s pretty simple. Basically, for every count, you’re pouring a quarter ounce. So if you’re pouring one and a half ounces, you’re going to count to six. For a half ounce, you’re going to count to two.”

Sounded easy, but after pouring a couple of them, I still wasn’t pouring the same amount with each count, and all I was doing was wasting liquor.

“It only gets better with practice,” he said, propping his hip against the bar top. “Luckily, most of the people are beer folk, straight-up shots, and a few of the simpler mixed drinks.”

“Yeah, but someone’s going to come in here asking for a Jax special, and I’m going to look like an idiot,” I said as I wiped up the liquor I’d gotten on the bar.

Jax chuckled. “Only I make that, so you don’t have to worry about it.”

I pictured him offering that drink to girls he wanted to lay, and then was immediately disturbed by how much I didn’t like that image. “Well, that’s good to know.”

“You’re doing fine.” Pushing off the bar, he placed his hand on the small of my back as he leaned in, his lips dangerously close to my ear, causing me to stiffen as he spoke, and warm air danced over my skin. “Just keep smiling like you are, and any guy will forgive you.”

My eyes popped wide as he sauntered off to the other end of the bar, leaning down on his folded arms as one of the guys at the bar said something to him.

I think I forgot how to breathe while I stood there, staring at the back of a fuzzy white and balding head of some guy.

There was no doubt in my mind that Jax knew how to bring the flirt. As I pushed away from the bar top, clearing my face of what I hoped wasn’t a stupid grin, I chanced a look down the bar.

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