Page 46 of Matched By My Rival
He had to raise his voice to be heard over the music.
I leaned in over the bar, calling back, “I know! I’m here for a drink!”
Simon didn’t look convinced. He was suspicious by nature, but I guess in this case he was right to be. I had an ulterior motive for showing up at Tracks. But I could see he was way too busy to worry about me just yet.
“I’ll take a shot of whatever they’re having,” I said, waving to a group that Simon had just served.
His lips twitched. “You want a Haymaker? It’s potent.”
“I can handle it.”
Without another word, he grabbed the liquor bottles—three brands of whiskey, in fact. Fuck, what had I gotten myself into? With an evil grin, Simon mixed the drink and handed it to me.
“Good luck.”
The challenging gleam in his eye did something to me. I picked up the shot, saluted him with it, then tipped it into my mouth. I nearly choked up at the burn that slid down my throat, then warmed my chest and stomach. It was an interesting flavor, combining to create a sort of whiskey hybrid I’d never tasted before.
But damn. Whiskey on top of beer. Talk about a recipe for disaster.
I slammed the empty glass onto the bar to find Simon still watching me despite the line of customers. That made my chest warm for a whole other reason.
“Another?” he asked.
Knowing better than to push my luck that far, I shook my head no as I backed away. Our eyes remained locked until the crowd pushed between us.
Simon returned to his work, and I turned to the dance floor.
I could already feel the liquor going to my head. But what better way to burn off some alcohol and save myself from a drunken stupor than by dancing?
I merged into the writhing bodies on the small dance floor. It was as hot as Hades in the midst of all that body heat, and I tugged my shirt off and tucked it into my back pocket. I didn’t know if Simon could see me, but I hoped he could. I’d make sure our paths crossed before the night was over.
But for now, I accepted dances with anyone who approached—and there were several women happy to take turns dancing with me. The music was upbeat, the crowd was happy, and I was having more fun than I expected as I waited for last call.
I returned to the bar for a water, getting served by the other bartender because Simon was too far in the weeds. This guy was even faster than Simon, but when he looked up to take my order, he smiled—and damn, he knew how to work those dimples.
“Aren’t you here for Simon?” he asked.
I must have looked surprised, but he simply braced his forearms on the bar and leaned in close, smirking. “You know why his end of the bar is busier than mine?”
I shook my head.
“He keeps getting distracted. Something out on the dance floor keeps catching his attention.” He eyed me up and down. “Now, I can see why.”
I laughed, blushing a little. For all the experience I’d had with hookups, I wasn’t used to guys flirting with me. I might be closeted, but I had functional gaydar, and this guy was too cute to be straight.
“I don’t know what you mean,” I said, playing it safe.
“Sure you don’t.” He winked, then before we could say anything more, he stepped back. I watched as he whispered something in Simon’s ear then gave him a shove in my direction.
Simon glared at me, but there was something new in that look. A hint of jealousy, maybe?
“Another Haymaker?” he asked.
I hesitated. He had that look in his eye again, daring me to prove I could handle it, but I didn’t want to get whiskey dick if I had a shot with him later. Judging by the intensity of his gaze, I might.
Assuming he didn’t knock me out before the Haymakers could.
“Nah. Just water,” I said. “Unless you want to carry my ass out of here tonight.”
