Page 2 of Her Grumpy Bartender

“Hi! I’m Gemma. I’m so sorry I’m late. Bedtime can’t be rushed. At least not with my daughter. But I’m here, and I’m ready. You must be Max, right?” Gemma held out her hand for a shake, and when I took her small hand in my large one, my heart beat faster.

“Yep, and this here is Don.” I nodded toward my partner in crime. “If you need anything, we’re the ones to ask. Your time slot started five minutes ago. So, if I were you, I’d get up there and make use of the rest of your time.” My words came out harsher than I intended, but one thing I couldn’t stand was lack of punctuality. No matter how beautiful she was.

“I plan to.” Gemma offered a small wave before hoisting her shoulders back, holding her head up high, and walking directly up on stage. Her guitar, a very nice guitar, I should say, looked more like a shield of armor than an instrument.

Istillcouldn’t pull my attention away from her.

What the hell is happening?

“Damn, she’s a looker. I see you gawking, boss.” Don elbowed me in the side with a huge smirk on his face.

“I’m notgawking. You sound ridiculous. Go make some drinks, will ya?”

“Nah, I think I’ll stand right here, next to you, and watch the show.”

I shot him a dirty look until he finally took the hint and walked off, shaking his head and laughing.

Was I really that obvious?

Fuck! I annoy myself.

I’d watch her sing one song, and then I’d hide in my office until it was time for me to perform. Hopefully, she’d be long gone by then.

Because I certainly didn’t trust myself around her.

But I had to at least show some support.

At least that was what I told myself anyway.

And when Gemma began strumming the guitar, and her soft voice began singing the words, her eyes locked on mine.

My breath hitched in my throat, and my breathing felt constricted.

I knew instantly right then and there that this woman was dangerous.

For both my heart and my dick.

CHAPTER TWO

Gemma

Of course,the owner of the bar was hot as fuck.

Not just hot, either. He was downright sinful.

The pictures online don’t do him justice…

With rich hazel eyes, dark brown hair, and tattoos covering his arms, hands, and neck, I could only imagine how much more ink hid beneath his clothes. He had that bad-boy look—you know, the one you automatically think of when the words musician, bartender, tattoos, and pure lust all string together and produce one hell of a man.

That was Max Costa.

How did I already know so much about him?

Well, of course, I did my research. It wasn’t hard these days with social media, and sure enough, he popped up right away. There were articles upon articles about his band, and it seemed like he made a pretty good living for himself. But then they sort of drifted out of the scene and quietly disbanded. I tried to find out why they broke up, but there wasn’t much information.Almost as if someone paid another person to wipe it clean off the internet. Again, I wondered…

Dammit. My nosy-ass mind needed to stop. My mother’s words rang in my head—Gemma, stop being so damn nosy. People don’t like other people in their business.

But to me, it always felt like curiosity. It was how my mind worked. How was I supposed to control that?

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