Page 5 of Beyond the Bright Lights

Same with Ginger. She knows everything. She sees everything. Tonight, however, neither of us has barely had time to take a bathroom break let alone stop to gossip.

Folks who’ve never stepped a foot inside my bar are sitting at the red booths that outline the room, or at the matching red tables in the middle, drinking their weight in liquor. The kitchen has been inundated with orders as well. To be fair, Lilies serves some of the best food in town, aside from the old-fashioned diner off Main Street.

I know all these people aren't here for the band playing tonight. Jerry and the Jerry Boys (yes, that’s really their name) perform here all the time, but they never have this many fans. Still, a horde of young girls crowd around the stage at the back, dancing and having the time of their lives. What's weirder? They all poured in an hour or so ago.

Strangers. They’re all strangers.

I definitely don’t recognize the handsome Goliath and the unbelievably hot man who just walked in. My bouncer Aaron is taking a piss, so I toss the towel I'm holding on the counter and walk around to greet them.

“Keys and identification, please,” I say, plastering on a smile while holding out my palm.

Unbelievably Hot Man hesitates before reaching an arm behind him to retrieve his wallet from his too tight jeans. “Um, my keys?”

He extracts his driver’s license with ease and hands it to me between two fingers, which shouldn’t have been sexy, but was. I locate the date of birth first. Twenty-five? Seriously? My eyes travel up and down his body as he scopes out the place. There’s no way this dude is twenty-five. He towers over me by nearly a foot. Besides the too tight jeans, he also wears a too tight black t-shirt stretched deliciously over his muscular chest and thick biceps. His messy raven hair falls in adorable curls. His eyes are wild. I swear there are different shades of blue to them—darker at the edges then fading to a lighter blue around his pupils.

Men this fine don’t live in Silo Springs. They don’t just show up here all of a sudden.

I force myself to look away and swipe the ID in the fancy scanner I bought after too many people were trying to use fakes to get in.

I point to a sign over my shoulder explaining the rules. “Everyone who comes into my bar hands over their car keys. At the end of the night, you blow into a breathalyzer to determine if you’re sober enough to drive yourself home.”

“Is that legal?”

I shrug. “Don’t know. Don’t care. No one has tried to stop me.”

He smirks and it sends my heart fluttering. What the hell is wrong with me?

“Guess it doesn’t matter because I’m not driving.”

I hold out my palm in front of Goliath, and he happily puts his identification on top.

Unbelievably Hot Man points his thumb at his friend. “He’s not driving either.”

I don’t look away as I repeat the entrance ritual. “How’d you get here? Walk? Ride a bike?”

“We have a driver.”

I huff a sarcastic laugh. “Aren’t you fancy. You two, like, celebrities or something?”

“Yeah.”

I roll my eyes, already annoyed at these two. Well, not the big one. Just this brat. “Right, well, I won’t hesitate to call the police if I catch you lying and you drive off drunk as a skunk.”

“Skunks get drunk?”

I narrow my eyes at him. “That’s strike one, Kid.”

“Kid?”

This time his eyes travel up and down my body. He's not subtle about it. Shit, maybe I wasn’t either. He swipes his thumb over his lower lip, his eyes darkening with . . . something. He takes a deeper step into my personal bubble. I can smell his musk—sweaty and expensive with hints of spicy citrus and cedar, maybe? Hell, whatever it is, I want to bathe in it.

“What happens when I get to strike three?”

I raise my chin high. Is he trying to intimidate me? Flirt with me? Whatever game he’s playing, he’s about to lose.

“I kick you out.” I step back and wave my hand, indicating for the two men to enter.

Unbelievably Hot Man leans down before passing by. “I love your accent,” he says next to my ear, low and seductively.

---