Page 5 of The Hot New Bartender in Town

“Nor mine.” I press my smiling lips together. “How long have you been in town?”

“Two days, give or take.”

“What brought you here?” I ask.

“To piss off my dad, mostly. And curiosity,” he answers, leaning his side against the bar as he speaks. “I grew up just north of here. Thought Small Town would be a nice change of pace.”

“You from Big City?”

“Close. Pleasant Place.”

I grimace. He laughs.

“I know, I know,” he says. “Suburban hellscape. But it was fine.”

“Why would moving to Small Town piss off your dad? Since you brought it up,” I add, in case the question is too personal.

“He wants me to finish school,” he answers. “I dropped out and moved down here instead.”

“What school?”

“Big City Tech. Dad’s a software engineer or... something,” he says, scoffing. “Hell, who knows what he does? I sure don’t, nor do I care to learn it.”

“You’d rather be a bartender in Small Town?” I ask.

He leans over again, his arm brushing against mine. “I’d rather live life on my terms,” he answers. “At the moment, that includes being a bartender in Small Town, yes.”

I nod, understanding. “I get it.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m not exactly ambitious, either.”

“What do you do?” he asks. “You going to school?”

“School? Hell, no. I’m a waitress and I sing karaoke on weekends while I wait to be discovered.”

“Discovered?”

“It’s inevitable,” I say, grinning. “Or I like to think it is. I like to fantasize about there being some fancy talent scout in the crowd one night. They’ll hear me sing and they’ll take me up to Big City, where I’ll perform on stage at the Cupid’s Corner Bar.”

“That’s a good bar,” he says.

“It’s the best bar,” I say. “It’s where everyone makes it big. And when I finally get there, I’ll become rich and famous and I’ll take my mother away from Small Town and we’ll live in luxury for the rest of our days.”

Riley nods along. “Sounds nice.”

“It does. You still want to sing me a song?”

He smirks, a touch of blush grazing his cheeks. “I’m off in ten minutes,” he says. “If you still want to hear it.”

“I do.”

“Then, I’ll go finish counting down my drawer,” he says, stepping back, “and I’ll meet you here in ten.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

With that, Riley re-opens the cash register. He slides the drawer out and turns, his eyes on me the entire time as he steps into the back with it.

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