Page 2 of Maid in America

Anthony snickered. “Shit, if I had washboard abs like you, my STDs would have STDs.”

Barrett barked out a laugh.

Anthony’s eyebrows furrowed. “Hey. Where’s Will?”

Barrett rolled his eyes. “He and Ava are doing some cake tasting tonight for the wedding. We haven’t hung out in weeks.”

“Shit, soon, he’ll be another brother lost to marital hell, anchored by a ball and chain, drowning at the bottom of thesuburban ocean with the rest of us dumb assholes, the poorschmuck.”

“Well, aren’t you a little ball of optimism tonight?” Barrett joked.

Anthony slapped Barrett on the back so hard it stung. “I’m gonna do a round and mingle. Catch you later, man.”

As Anthony darted off into the packed swarm of people near the bar, Barrett cupped a hand and yelled over Luke Bryan’s voice, asking country girls to shake it for him, “Don’t be an idiot! Pull your head out of your ass and go get Linda back!”

Anthony scoffed and disappeared into the crowd.

Barrett leaned back on the bar and nodded at the blonde in the AC/DC shirt. She and the two women beside her gawked, laughed, and waved. He flashed another knee-weakening smile at all three, watching the women melt before his mocha-colored eyes.

Like fishing with dynamite.

He turned back to the bar, flagging down Daisy, the pissy bartender. She grimaced, letting out a dramatic grunt as she reluctantly approached, wiping sloppy liquid dribbles off the bar top the whole way. Her stormy eyes narrowed at the sight of him.

“Barrett.” There was ice in her tone, like that of an agitated phone sex operator, equal parts sensual and frigid.

“Awww, come on, Daisy. You aren’tstillmad at me, are you?”

Her furious glare gave him the only answer he needed. He watched her shapely ass as she twisted to retrieve a bottle behind her, the silky skin of her tapered waist taunting him through the gap between her crop top and painted-on frayed jeans. She whipped back up, catching his eyes settling on her cleavage.

She pointed the neck of a bottle of Maker’s Mark at him like an accusatory finger. “Fuck off, Barrett.”

“Is that any way to talk to a regular?” He smiled, but she was impervious to his charm. Jaded, like many others in his sexualwake. He was great at getting women, even better at ghosting them.

He held up two calloused palms defensively. “I’ll just take a double of Wyomin’ Whiskey, neat, and get outta your hair.” He swallowed. “Which looks really nice today, by the way.”

Daisy flipped her caramel ponytail over her shoulder and huffed. Teeth gritted, she snatched a nearby glass and a bottle of his favorite local whiskey. After pouring two fingers of booze, she sloshed the glass across the scuffed wooden bar top at him.

“Foryou, that’ll be twenty-five bucks.”

Barrett pressed his lips together and nodded. “On second thought, I shouldn’t drink tonight. I’m driving.”

Daisy shook her head and snatched the drink back from the counter. “Suit yourself.”

She swallowed the contents of the glass herself and then set the cup in the sink behind the bar, never breaking eye contact with him. He opened his mouth to reply, but he knew no words could remove the foot he’d already planted there when he snuck out of her house the week prior.

It was time to institute a new rule:Never fuck the bartender.He added it to the lengthy list of mistakes he’d made over the years.

Luckily, in a tourist town, there were always fresh faces, women who had no clue about the reputation that preceded him, one that dried up panties and sent sensible women racing for the door.

As he turned back to the dance floor, an arm snaked around his own, squeezing like a python.

“Hey, babe, this is Mark. He just bought me a drink. Ain’t that the sweetest thing?” the female voice cooed.

Barrett turned to see an unfamiliar face gazing up at him from their several-inch height difference. She was a stunning creature, the kind of woman that the bards of old wrote songsabout. Her arresting amber eyes blinked up at him, hypnotic beneath the shimmering beams of the overhead par-cans. Her delicious-looking lips were highly glossed and twisted into a nervous smile. Her shoulder-length hair was dyed in blended bands of rainbow colors coiled around her delicate face in breezy curls.

For once, Barrett felt too dumbstruck to be suave.

Rising on her toes to close the height gap between them, she leaned closer to his ear. He caught a hint of her jasmine perfume as she whispered, “Please go with it. This dipshit won’t leave me the hell alone.”

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