Page 36 of Books and Hookups

“Danny-o!” Tad plopped onto a stool at my end of the bar. “Why the long face?”

“Just thinking.” I pasted on a fake smile. “The usual?” I grabbed a cocktail shaker and assessed the droopy mint, holding in a sigh. Once the ladies saw me mix up Tad’s drink, it’d be nothing but mojitos for the rest of my shift.

“Don’t forget I like it in a martini glass.”

I gritted my teeth and tossed a few mint leaves into the shaker, then poured in the rum, lime juice, and simple syrup—extra for Tad—and mashed it with a long-handled spoon. I tossed in a few ice cubes, shook it, then strained it into a martini glass. After splashing in club soda, I garnished it with a lime and a sprig of mint.

Carefully, I set it in front of him. “Anything else?”

“You know, in my neighborhood bar, they do a sugar rim.”

I winced. “We, uh, don’t have too much demand for sugar rims. We’re more of a beer and whiskey bar.”

“I keep telling Aunt Barb she needs to go more upscale. Maybe when she retires and gives me the bar, I’ll rebrand it. Give it a speakeasy vibe, sport coats required, you know?” His gaze lingered on the hem of my T-shirt, where I’d caught it on a dish rack earlier.

I smoothed my hand over the rip. “I’m buying the bar, remember? You were here on Barb’s birthday when she announced it.”

He leaned closer. “Assuming you and your brother can get the cash together.”

My stomach tightened. “We’ll get the cash.” If only to shove it in Tad’s smug face when I told him mojitos were off the menu.

“Sure.” His tone gave it about the same probability of a blizzard in hell.

“Tad!” Barb waved from her side of the bar. “Come say hello.”

He rolled his eyes as he slipped off the high stool. “I hate that low part of the bar. It’s the first thing I’ll get rid of.”

“It’s one of the few wheelchair-accessible bars in Rincon Hill,” I said.

He picked up his drink. “People can roll up to tables. No one wants to sit at a table-height bar.”

“People who use wheelchairs do.” I glanced over at Barb’s section. There were two people in wheelchairs bellied up to the bar. “And lots of folks like it.” A man had hung his cane on the lip of the bar. His date sat beside him, making flirty eyes.

“Not me.” He stalked off toward his aunt.

“Prick,” Leo said, grabbing a glass from the rack over my head.

“If things fall through for us, that prick’s going to own this bar,” I muttered.

He put a comforting hand on my back. “Nothing’s gonna fall through. You always figure shit out.”

“Wealways figure it out. Together.” I surveyed the bar I loved.

Lucie stepped through the door into the foyer. But instead of coming into the bar, she turned up the residents’ hall and trudged up the stairs.

“She looks tired, huh?” Leo said. “She okay?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t talked to her much since we dropped off that baby stuff last week. Just a couple texts. She said she was fine.”

“Maybe you should check on her. We’ll be good for a while. It’s not too busy.”

I glanced at the thin crowd. “Okay. I’ll ask Norm to make her something to eat.”

“Nah, he’ll just fry her up a burger.”

“She loves burgers,” I said.

“I know, but she’s eating for two. I’ll make her something more nutritious. Give me fifteen minutes.” He disappeared into the back.

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