Page 4 of Desperate Valentine

“I can pay. I don’t need charity,” I declare in an annoyed tone.

“It’s not charity. I’ve never seen you in here before, and I own the bar. It’s the least I could do for a new customer.”

Before I can say another word, he directs his attention toward the couple that just sat down across from me.

Fuck.

Why do I have to be such a bitch all the time?

That’s what got me into this whole mess in the first place.My smart fucking mouth.

I swallow back the shot and when the bartender walks back toward me, I slide the shot glass toward him, indicating that I need another.

“Am I going to be babysitting you tonight? You look a little young to be slamming the shots back,” he says, pouring me another.

“I’m actually twenty-three, but thanks.”

Maybe it was a mistake coming in here. I’m not in the mood for small talk.

“How old do you think I am?” he asks, drying off a large beer stein.

“Are you flirting with me, sir? You’re probably old enough to be my dad.”

Shit. There it is again.

“Hmm. You might be close,” he laughs.

“Forty?”

“A little lower.”

“Thirty-eight?”

“I’m turning forty in July.”

Okay, good for you, guy.

After pouring the beer and handing it to another customer, he walks over to the other bartender and whispers something in her ear.

“Sure, boss. I got it,” she says, tossing her phone off to the side.

“You.” He points straight at me. “Come with me.”

“Me? Why?”

“Because it’s Valentine’s Day. You’re here alone and by the looks of things, you’re hell bent on getting drunk so you can forget about whatever it is that brought you here in the first place.”

“You’re not wrong, but it’s not what you think it is. Maybe I just hate Valentine’s Day.”

“Enlighten me.” He curls his finger, and I reluctantly stand, following along behind him as he walks toward the back of the bar. “It’s quiet out back. Doesn’t smell as bad either.” He laughs as he opens the back entrance.

He’s right. That bar smells horrible.

“So. What brings you here tonight, alone?” He reaches into his pocket and grabs a cigarette, lighting it as he leans against the brick wall behind him.

Holy fuck, this man is gorgeous. I don’t know how I didn’t notice that part while we were inside.

“A series of misfortunes, I guess. Well, maybe just one misfortune,” I reply, nerves making me run my mouth. Why did I say that?

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