Page 8 of Bartender's Surprise Baby

We shared a laugh. “No problem.”

“So, what’s up?” He grabbed a box and hoisted it onto the bar before his gaze settled on me again.

It was clear he was in the middle of important tasks, so I rounded the bar and grabbed the other box at his feet. “Where are we going?”

His brows shot up. “You don’t have to help.”

I smiled. I could admit I got a kick out of surprising people. “Yet here I am helping. Lead the way.” He used his back to open the door that led to the kitchen, and I followed, taking a long, appraising look at his delicious backside.

He put his box on a shelf and then took the one in my arms. “So?”

Right. “Can I take you out for pizza?” Being bold came naturally to me. It had served me well in my career and in relationships, even if neither had much staying power.

His brows dipped into a scowl. “You know I’m not poor, right?”

I laughed and shook my head. “That poor, fragile male ego.” It never failed to rear its ugly head. “I didn’t think you were, but since I had to track you down and ask you out, it seems fair that I should pay.”

My words confused him.

“It’s not rocket surgery, Levi.” When he still said nothing, I turned on my heels and went back to the bar to scribble my number on a napkin, which felt very retro. “Here’s my number. Call me.” Then, because I couldn’t resist, I pushed up on my toes, loving the fact that he was taller than me, and planted a slow, sensual kiss on his lips. “See you later, Levi.”

I walked away, feeling the heat and the weight of his gaze on me, and added a little extra swing in my hips to complete the effect.

All in all, it wasn’t a bad start to retirement.

6LEVI

"You keep saying you’re retired, but that dress tells me otherwise." It was strange enough that I was on a pizza date with a model on a Tuesday afternoon, but it was nearly surreal with her in that itty-bitty green dress she said she’d picked out because it matched my eyes.

She smiled prettily, and her eyes darkened with desire. "This old thing?" Rob laughed at her own joke. "I like to dress up. Is it too much?"

"Hell no." The dress was hot as hell, short enough to enhance her mile-long legs and tight enough to show off the curves that molded her petite frame. "It’s just right." I leaned across the table, inhaling her earthy scent. "Definitely the best-dressed woman in Mistletoe Pizza."

Her smile faded, then reappeared brighter than ever as she tossed her head back and let loose a throaty laugh that drew a few eyes our way. "That’s not too hard to do, but I’ll take the compliment anyway." She smiled at me, and it was equal parts hot and affectionate. It felt as if all eyes were on us, but Rob’s were on me. Only me.

It was crazy to be the sole focus of this beautiful woman’s attention. She smiled and nodded when I spoke, and she asked questions as if she really wanted to get to know me. I wasn’t just a hot bartender to her. I was a man.

"So, Levi, tell me why you make such good Irish dingle pies." Her lips curled at the corners, and her eyes glittered with amusement.

"It was just me and my mom growing up, and she was a terrible cook who often worked two jobs. Meals usually fell to me, and after a while, the usual suspects weren’t as appealing. I found I had a knack for it, and since my grandparents are Irish, I started there." No one cared about my cooking skills until I came to Holiday Grove.

"Why don’t you cook at the pub?"

That wasn’t the question I expected. "Because I tend bar."

She rolled her eyes, dissatisfied with my answer. "I smell a story there, but I won’t pry just yet."

"Thank you?"

"You’re welcome. Now, I have a really serious question." She leaned over the table with a mischievous smile.

I matched her movements, and just a few inches separated us. "Isn’t it a little early for serious questions?"

She shook her head, thick waves falling around her shoulders. "Not this one."

"Okay, shoot."

"Top three, all-time favorite pizza toppings. Go."

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