Page 12 of The Hot New Bartender in Town

His mouth quirks. “Gets cold down here at night sometimes,” he says, holding me close. “I won’t mind the company.”

I smile. “Okay,” I say, silently willing myself to be cool. “Then, I’ll stay.”

Riley kisses me softly once again, and I kiss him back.

5

TISH

Istir on the bed, my limbs silently screaming at me as I slowly drift into consciousness. It has been a while since someone’s stretched me out this way and that, and I feel myself smiling wide before I even open my eyes.

I open them in a dark and cold room. An apartment. Riley’s apartment beneath Sparks Pub.

I pull the blanket further over me, the bed still warm. Expecting Riley to be lying beside, I slowly turn my head to look behind me on the bed.

“Meow.”

“Ah!” I lurch, face-to-face with the black cat. I breathe a laugh, scolding myself. “Good morning, Jake,” I say.

He doesn’t reply.

Noticing that Riley is nowhere to be seen, I blink as my eyes adjust to the darkness. No windows down here. What time is it even?

“Where’s Riley?” I ask Jake.

“Meow.”

“Right,” I reply with a nod. “Well, thank you.”

I sit up on the bed, keeping the sheet clenched against my chilled breasts. Memories spark as I glance around, my bodyrecalling what we did on the couch. And on the table. And on the bed.

“Riley?” I ask.

No answer.

I chew my cheek, debating whether to go back to sleep or...leave.

“Shit,” I say, finally awake enough to remember something other than screaming orgasms.

Like the fact that I have to work today.

I scan the room for my handbag, quickly spotting it on the floor by the couch. I scoot off the bed, cursing as my bare feet touch the cold floor. Taking the bedsheet with me, I shuffle over to grab my handbag, finding my cell phone inside.

“Nine,” I say with relief. My shift isn’t until eleven. “Thank the maker.”

If I’m late again, Bruno’s gonna... well, he’ll probably just snort. Big dude’s a big softy on the inside.

The door opens. A beam of light breaks the darkness and I flinch, my phone nearly slipping from my hands. I drop the bedsheet, using both hands to catch the phone safely before it cracks against the floor.

“Tish?” Riley asks, flicking on the light.

I freeze in the middle of his room; the bedsheet pooled at my ankles, my phone clenched between my palms. “Uh-huh,” I murmur.

He pauses in the kitchenette, a to-go tray with two coffees in one hand and a paper bag in the other. “Whatcha doing?” he asks, looking me over curiously.

“Nothing. Just...” I hold up my hands. “Checking the time.”

“Naked?”

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