Page 76 of The Witness

Katie coughed delicately and elbowed me in the side. Time jolted back to normal speed and a blush heated my cheeks. Michael gave his head a small shake like he was clearing away a daze.

“Is it a little chilly in here or is it me?” Michael asked me and Katie, rubbing his bare arms with his hands. Of course, he made a joke about his missing shirt.

I was mortified. Katie giggled.

“I’m sorry for this.” I waved at the bows clinging to his chest.

“Nah, I’ve made twenty bucks in tips already.” He chuckled good-naturedly and pointed to a jar with cash rolled up inside, perched on the corner of the bar.

“You’re sure it’s alright?”

Before he answered, Ms. Fieldman scooted between us to thank him for her drink with a sexy smile. He replied with a wink and a knowing look.

I ignored the tiny stab of jealousy that his flirting with an eighty-year-old spawned and decided he didn’t miss his shirt at all.

Katie prodded me with her elbow again. Right, introductions.

“Michael, this is Katie, my good friend. And the world’s most amazing pastry chef. She’s going to come work with me at Viande when we open.”

“Nice to meet you.” Michael gave her a fist bump over the expanse of the bar. “She’s the Katie you called before Cuba, right?”

“Yep, she’s my bestie.” Katie and I shared a smile.

“Thanks for keeping her safe through all that.” Katie’s voice had turned serious, and Michael nodded solemnly in reply. I told Katie everything that had happened with Sandoval, from the catering job on the Jabberwocky to fleeing Cuba on the go-fast boats.

“It was a privilege.” Michael held my gaze as he said the words, and a trail of goosebumps rushed over my skin. His sincerity was one of the best seduction moves of all time.

“Enough of that. It’s Christmas Eve,” I plucked at the front of my blinged out sweater to wave cool air over my hot skin. “I’d like to try one of your infamous Cranberry Margaritas. Quinn said they are deadly.”

“Anything for you, Siren.”

And bam! My ovaries went up in flames. How early could he and I duck out? Oh yes, I’d planned ahead, catching a ride with Katie so I’d be free to leave with Michael and not worry about a car. Minerva didn’t raise a fool.

Michael got to work crafting the cocktail. I watched him work, impressed by how comfortable he was behind the bar. He mixed, poured, and measured like a pro.

“And, for you, Katie?” he asked as he threaded an orange wedge on the rim of my glass and offered me the cocktail with a flourish.

“I’m a designated driver.” She frowned, declining a cocktail.

“Never fear. I have the non-alcoholic sparkling cider and cranberry mimosa for the festive non-drinkers.” He mixed the mocktail in a crystal flute. Mom would never use plastic at one of her parties.

I took a sip of his signature drink; it was delicious. “I’m impressed. Your bartending credentials are impressive.”

“I have it on good authority a man needs to offer more than muscles and a big dick.”

Katie choked on her drink. I shot Michael a look of astonishment that he’d tossed my words back at me. The spicy banter was totally unexpected.

“You alright?” I patted Katie on the back.

“I’m going to leave you two alone… for a bit. Thanks for the drink, Michael.” Katie, still red-faced, melted into the crowd. I was sure she was on her way to tell my mother everything.

“I don’t think I said big.” I tore the flesh from my orange slice with an aggressive chomp.

“Meh, that’s how I remember it.” The playful smile and twinkle in his eyes made him that much better looking.

“Oh, my God. You’re bad.” I tossed the orange peel at him, and he caught it.

“You like it.”

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