Page 50 of The Barkeep and the Bro

“Lilly was into you last night,” Asa said.

Oh, right. There was that.

“She texted me this morning asking for your number.” He raised his eyebrows, looking at me for the green light.

Fuck. What was wrong with me? She was beautiful. I would’ve hit that last night, no question under normal circumstances. And under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t have had phone sex with my boss. I cringed at the hazy memories from the bathroom…which then made me hard…which made me cringe more. It was a vicious cycle.

“That’s all right,” I said about exchanging digits with Lily.

“She’s hot,” Skeeter said, almost taking offense. He dumped his usual mountain of sugar into his coffee.

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” I poured a dash of milk into mine.

“What the fuck does that mean?”

I had no fucking idea. I woke up this morning with a raging boner and thoughts of Mitch on top of me, jerking both of us off in his large hand. What the fuck didthatmean?

“Do you have someone up in Sour Patch Kids?” Asa shot Skeeter a gossipy look.

“Sourwood,” I growled. “And no.”

“C’mon. You need a rebound to help you forget about Serena.”

“Who?” I shot out before remembering my ex-girlfriend. I should’ve called her for phone sex last night. Why didn’t I?

Asa and Skeeter’s eyebrows jumped to the ceiling.

“I guess she’s already forgotten,” Asa said.

“Yeah, guess so,” Skeeter echoed, though there was an odd look of frustration he wore, like how dare I not obsess over my hot ex-girlfriend.

“I want to focus on my job.”

“Concentrating on your high-pressure career as a beer wench?” Skeeter snorted as he scanned the menu.

I pulled up train times on my phone.

“There’s a train leaving at eleven this morning, so I’m going to head out after breakfast.”

“What? This was only part one of the birthday extravaganza. We’re going paintballing this afternoon. You want to miss out on that?” Skeeter could be a pain in the ass about plans and people flaking. He took it so personally. “You love paintballing.”

That was true. I was pro-gun control but also pro-paintballing. I didn’t yet know how to square up those views in my head. We were all full of contradictions, like me being straight yet dying to jack it in person with a guy whose hotness gave me freaking goosebumps.

“We haven’t seen you in forever,” Asa said, laying on the guilt. “How often do we all get to hang out?”

It wasn’t as if they were coming to visit me in Sourwood, even with the lure of a free drink. “I have a shift tonight.”

“Workaholic.” Skeeter rolled his eyes.

Asa’s face scrunched up into a weird look. “I’ve never known you to bail on a good time.”

The waitress came with plates lined up her arm. She plopped a glorious dish of golden pancakes in front of me, and my delirious hunger scrambled my train of thought. Between my friends and the familiar diner smells, an overwhelming sense of home came over me.

“Just call in sick,” Skeeter said as he poured hot sauce on his eggs. “Who hasn’t called in sick before? That’s what those days are there for.”

Did I have sick days at this job? Unlike Skeeter, I didn’t work at a big company where my absence wouldn’t be noticed.

“My boss called in sick for the first time in a year, and he was on the verge of death,” I said, slightly exaggerating.

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