Page 19 of Whiskey Neat

“Yeah.” He knocks on his hard hat. “All good.”

Salem grabs the papers and folder off the desk. “New location?”

“I guess the bar up front will have to do for now.”

Salem nods, walking ahead of me but stopping in the hallway and turning to face me.

“Rainchecks are available whenever you want them.”

“Noted.”

He saunters off, leaving me horny, half hard, and with my head spinning. I have a feeling Salem is going to be a handful. Whether that’s good or bad remains to be seen.

SIX

SALEM

Indy is a god among men. I’m convinced. He’s all my weaknesses wrapped up in one delicious package.

Tall? Check.

Light eyes? Check.

Built like a brick house? Check.

Thick thighs and thicker bulge? Check, check, check.

Christ on a cracker. I was so close to tasting that sexy mouth of his when Bob the Builder busted in. Now I have to pretend to be focused on boring paperwork when the man of my dreams is mere inches away from me.

He’s in deep discussion with the pretty one and the wild one. I can’t remember their names, so they’ve all got monikers in my head. The pretty one is glamorous and shares a love of feminine touches with me. The wild one looks like a regular good-looking dude, but there’s something about his energy that reads chaotic. Then there are the twins—the two guys who don’t look shit like each other but if you’re looking for one you’ll find the other. The last guy, the bear, is almost as hot as Indy, but shorter, stockier, and hairier.

Indy laughs, drawing my attention back to him. When he’s serious and unsmiling, his muscular arms straining against his t-shirt as he folds them across his chest, he’s a dream, but when he laughs? Well, twist me up and call me a tornado. Could there be anything better?

I’ve long known I have a thing for older guys. There’s just something about the bits of gray hair mixing with their natural locks, the crinkle lines etched beside their eyes when they laugh, the way they carry themselves like they’ve seen shit. But Indy takes my interest to new heights, and now I know I have a shot. I just have to play my cards right. He wants to be professional, and I get it, but I’ll prove to him I can climb him like a jungle gym and hold it together in front of customers.

“Salem?” the pretty one calls out. “What’s your last name?”

“Barlowe, with an E on the end.”

“Thanks.” He scrawls in his notebook.

When I look up again, Indy is staring at me, but he flinches at being caught and turns back to his friends. I finish my paperwork, but my thoughts quickly drift to wondering more about Indy and his friends. Have they all fucked each other? Any amicable breakups among them?

Indy drapes himself over the pretty one from behind, his hand resting on the bar. Lowen. That’s his name. I watch the interaction, looking for signs of romance or attraction. I mean, if I liked femme men I’d be all over Lowen. He’s gorgeous.

The wild one… Ridley, I think… leans on the bar from the front, his forehead nearly touching Lowen’s. They’re a physically affectionate bunch.

“All done,” I announce from the other end of the bar.

The three men look over at me, and Indy’s eyes heat. Definitely delicious. Lowen walks over, glances at my paperwork, and nods.

“Perfect. We’ll get this scanned and emailed to the payroll company today.” Looking over his shoulder at Indy, he smiles. “I think Salem is ready for training now.”

“Great.” Indy clears his throat. “Where’s the laptop?”

Lowen points at the leather messenger bag on the back counter. “Oh, before you go, let’s see what Salem thinks of our plans.” He waves me closer, spreading out a few hand-drawn blueprints. “So, we’re thinking we could keep the bar in the same place but shift the pool tables farther back so we can add on an outdoor patio. What do you think?”

I look down at the designs, nodding at it all. “I like the flow, and an outdoor space will be popular in the summer. Are you serving food?”

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