Page 2 of The Hot New Bartender in Town

Mika, Lottie, and Brenda, dressed in girls’ night out perfection in fancy shoes and adorable sundresses, raise their glasses with a cheer.

“Love you, too, ladies.”

In the few seconds of silence before the song starts, I turn around, putting my back to the crowd and striking a pose, prompting a few whistles throughout the bar.

The song blares from the speakers; a popular country-pop anthem from my mother’s generation, but one that most everyone knows the words to. Not my usual go-to, admittedly, but sometimes, a girl’s just gottatwang.

With eyes closed, I bring the microphone to my lips, and I sing. The song starts slow and low; the lyrics flowing out of me from memory alone. I don’t even look at the screen perched off to the side. Instead, I focus on them.

My audience.

As the song picks up and the chorus rises, I turn to face them. With my feet planted and my soul open, I sing to them, my face etched with a near-permanent smile. My heart pounds with adrenaline; the thrill of performing coursing through me. All the love I belt out comes right back to me as shouts and applause. A few groups start clapping with the beat, the infectious action spreading fast as the second verse rips through the bar.

I scan every table in view. I wink and smile, enjoying every moment of my stardom. Sure, it’s just Small Town. It’s just Sparks Pub. But this ismytown. This ismypub. It’s the last weekend of summer and, honey...

I ain’t going home alone tonight.

As the chorus builds again, my eyes catch on a man standing behind the bar.

The hot new bartender.

He’s looking right at me.

While everyone else around him claps to the rhythm, he stands with his arms folded over his chest. A real stick in the mud, I’d assume, if it weren’t for the obvious smirk etched into his mouth.

I flash him a wink and his brow twitches.

Time for the big finish.

I strike another pose and, using every bit of air in my lungs, I extend the final note for longer than necessary. But the Sparks Pub crowd loves that shit, and they reward me with a standing ovation that brings a smile to my face.

“Thank you!” I say, bowing. “Thank you so very much.”

Resisting the toxic urge to literally drop the mic, I place it safely back on its stand before blowing the crowd a kiss and —carefully— stepping down.

Returning to our table, I give the girls one more bow.

“Damn!” Brenda says. “You’re so good, Tish.”

“Little over the top tonight, I’d say,” Lottie teases. “But good.”

“Oh, shut up,” I say as I sit down. Before I can reach for the glass of water in front of me, another glass touches the table by my hand.

Amaretto sour. My favorite.

I look up and into the eyes of Small Town’s hot new bartender.

Oh, my...

Blue eyes. Very blue.

The table goes quiet.

“Oh,” I say, my breath held. “I didn’t order this.”

He looks me over, those sinful eyes quickly hopping from my face to my chest and back again. “It’s on the house,” he says, his voice deep enough to do cannonballs into.

I swallow hard. “Thank you,” I say. “I appreciate that.”

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