Page 21 of The Barkeep and the Bro

“My students’ tests are going to smell like vodka. As if half of them don’t already suspect I’m an alcoholic.” Amos patted down the papers.

“Shit. I’m sorry.”

We couldn’t be angry at each other for too long. I tried to help him out by spritzing cleaning spray on the tests.

“The scent of bleach can overpower anything. Trust me. I’ve cleaned up enough puke to know this for a fact.”

Amos shooed me away, shielding his tests and his cocktail from the nozzle. The tension broke with raucous laughter between us.

“Forget it, forget it,” he said. “I’m sorry. There was maybe a kitten whisper of sexual innuendo in my comment. I know you don’t see it, but Mitch is a hottie.”

“Can we just stop talking about it? He’s my boss. I don’t want to think about…any of that.”

“Deal.” He put up his hand and swore on my bartending bible.

I put away the alcohol and juices, giving myself a moment with my back turned to catch myself.

As I asked myself earlier, what in the actual fuck?

I’dneverhad this kind of response to a guy. I was straight but not narrow. If I was going to keep working at Stone’s Throw Tavern, I’d have to figure out what the hell my body was thinking—and make it stop.

8

MITCH

Charlie and I had a few more training sessions that week. He liked to joke around, but I could tell he was trying and getting better. Much better than I expected. This morning, I finally took down my help-wanted sign.

Today was his first full shift. I’d be there if he had questions, but I was letting him fly solo. He strolled into the tavern wearing his usual: a henley that bulged against his muscles. Even though it had become a regular occurrence, I still had to tell myself not to stare. Damn, those shirts fit that body well. If Stone’s Throw were a gay bar, he’d get enough tips to put himself through law school every night.

“Hey, Boss!” He tossed his coat on the rack.

I descended the stairs from my office after spending all morning dealing with payroll.

“Afternoon,” I said gruffly.

Charlie bent over to tie his shoe, giving me a glorious view of something I shouldn’t be looking at.

“Are you ready?” I asked him.

He popped up, his cheeks red from the cold. “Heck, yeah!”

I whipped off his backward baseball cap. “No hats when you’re behind the bar.”

Charlie pushed up his sleeves and headed behind the bar.

My newest waitress, Penny, approached, holding her tray against her chest. She was a friend of Natasha’s, but she lacked the matching attitude. Her cheeks were as red as her hair, but not because of the cold outside.

“Hey Charlie,” she said before looking down at her feet.

“Penny, what’s good? Did you do something different with your hair?”

“I straightened it.” She ran a nervous hand through her flat-ironed locks.

“It looks good. You look like Jennifer Lawrence.”

“Whatever.” She waved her hand at him, and her cheeks went into full blush mode.

“I’m serious! Mitch, doesn’t she look like Jennifer Lawrence?”

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