Page 6 of The Businesswoman and the Bartender

There was something particularly sweet about hearing a grown man talk of his mother with such respect and affection in his voice. “Does she live locally?” she asked.

“She did. She passed last summer.”

Her stomach plummeted to the center of the earth. “Oh, Nick. I’m so sorry.”

His gaze found hers, sorrow still lingering in his eyes. “Thanks. She…” He paused, and April wanted to launch over the bar and hug him. “Breast cancer. Same old story. But not, at the same time.”

“Of course.” She understood that sentiment all too well. “It’s sobering, isn’t it? You think your parents are invincible, even as you get older. And then suddenly—”

“They’re not,” he finished for her with a thoughtful tilt of his head.

“My dad had a minor stroke two months ago,” she admitted quietly. “He’s fine, thank God. But it was the first time it hit me that my parents won’t be around forever.”

“Yeah. It shouldn’t have come as a shock—she’d been sick for months—but the day she died, I was completely stunned. Didn’t seem real.” He cleared his throat and said, “Sorry. You don’t want to hear all this depressing stuff.”

How wrong he was. She wanted to hear it—wanted to learn everything she could about him. Without thinking, she reached forward and grabbed his hand. It was different from the harmless skim of their fingers the night prior. It was deliberate and personal, and it might have been too familiar, considering they’d only just met, but April was compelled to offer him a bit of comfort.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” she assured him, giving his hand a supportive squeeze before releasing it. “Are you close with your dad, at least?”

He smiled fondly. “I am. We’re buds. Losing her was hard for him, but the grief helped bring us closer in this weird way.”

“Silver lining.”

They shared a meaningful stare until he ducked his head and asked, “So, you a native New Yorker?”

She couldn’t blame him for changing the subject. “I’m originally from Pennsylvania. But I moved to the city for college when I was eighteen. Been there ever since.”

“What do you think of Seattle? You’re lucky you’re getting good weather this week.”

“Not that I’ve gotten to enjoy it much, being stuck in the convention center all day. Hopefully, it will still be nice on my day off. But so far, I like what I see.”

She hadn’t intended for that final sentence to be loaded with innuendo, but best-laid plans and whatnot. He caught her gaze and murmured, “I’m glad.”

April cleared her throat to try and recalibrate. “Anyway. What do you suggest I check out while I’m here?”

“Pike Place Market, naturally. And if you have time, the boat rides around the bay are fun and not too expensive. Oh, and there’s this fantastic steakhouse I can recommend.”

There was a teasing lilt to his voice, and she played along. “You don’t say.”

“Great food. Bartender’s a bit of a dork, though.”

She laughed heartily, but before she could retort with a snappy comeback, their conversation was interrupted by the barback, who needed assistance in the storage room. Nick excused himself and left her alone. She peered over her shoulder and saw that the last groups of people had departed, making her officially the last one standing.

Not only that, but she was tipsy. Nowhere near blackout drunk, but still buzzed enough that the depressive effects of alcohol flourished, and her insecurity flared in the silence.

God, how pathetic was she? Hanging around like a dog in heat, desperate for a bit of attention. This wasn’t a date, and she would do well to remember that. She rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands, unconcerned that she was likely smudging whatever was left of her mascara.

April steeled herself and asked for the check when he finally returned to the bar, essentially destroying her seduction scenario before it had even begun.

“Of course,” he answered, his eyebrows raising somewhat in response to her abrupt change of pace. He presented her with the bill and then ran her credit card.

Silence stretched between them, filling her with unease until she rambled out an excuse. “I just realized how late it is. I have to be up early again tomorrow.”

Nick gave her a tender smile. “Totally get it. Working with a hangover is never fun.”

“No, it’s not.” She paused and placed her credit card back in her purse. “Thanks again.”

“Anytime.” He wiped down the bar and viewed her through hooded eyes. “Hopefully, I’ll see you again.”

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