Page 36 of Savage Suit
Very perceptive of her. “Idon’t‘frequent’ dive bars. I’m here with my brother.”
Her dark, perfectly arched eyebrows drew together. “Oh.” And then, “You have a brother?”
I nodded, pleased at her slight thawing. “Two of them.”
“Can I get you anything, ma’am?”
The sound of that Southern drawl interrupted our conversation, and Ryan turned away from me. I lifted my gaze and saw the bartender looking Ryan over, as I had, and smiling at her. He was a dark-haired man in his early to mid-twenties.
“First drink’s on the house,” he said, the lust dawning in his eyes irritating me.
She nodded politely. “Just a Coke, thank you.”
He nodded and frowned at me, glancing between us. “Are y’all together?”
“No, we’re not.”
Ryan’s quick response deepened my annoyance, and I scowled.
“All right.” Relief filled his returning grin. “A Coke, coming right up.”
He pulled out a shockingly clean glass from behind the bar and filled Coke to the brim. The ancient beverage dispenser would fail an inspection if the health department ever subjected the place to one. He handed the drink to Ryan with another annoyingly syrupy smile.
“Here you go, uh…?” His words trailed off, and he looked at her.
“Ryan,” she supplied, taking a sip before grabbing at the wallet dangling from her wrist. “How much is it?”
“It’s on the house. Remember?” He held out his hand. “I’m Ian, by the way.”
“Thank you for the drink,” she said as she accepted his hand and shook it.
Resting his elbows on the bar, he leaned forward and whispered to her, their foreheads almost touching.
Her responding laugh sounded too authentic for my liking. Possessiveness rose in me at the intimate slant of the bartender’s body.
Apart from his brown eyes, this guy could’ve been mistaken for one of my brothers, he resembled me so closely. As I witnessed her responding to his flirtations, I understood I was physically her type. An upside to their fucking banter, I supposed. Except I could’ve done without their smarmy exchange. Fuck him and his corny lines. Her response to his country boy bullshit was humbling.
From the moment of my birth, everyone fell all over themselves to serve my every beck and call. Even if they didn’t know who I was, most people had enough sense to jump to my command the moment words left my mouth. People who worked for me knew the consequences of inaction. As for women, it was a new fucking experience to have one ignore me in favor of another man and a bartender to boot!
Clearing my throat, I stepped forward, irrationally jealous. I glared at the bartender. “I’ll have a rum and Coke and a Bohemia beer. And please, use decent rum,” I interjected, my cold displeasure loud and clear.
His shoulders stiffened, but he didn’t look away or move from Ryan. “I’ll get your order in a minute, buddy.”
By sheer will, I controlled my ire. Fuck, I’d walked up to the bar in a shitty mood. Ryan was like a beacon of light. But then this motherfucker interfered and now brushed me off. Most fucking egregious was the sonofabitch flirting with the woman I couldn’t forget.
“Your conversation with her can wait. I need service now.” Having me wait was a fucking crime.
Sidling a glare at me, Ryan sniffed.
“I said to give me a minute,” the bartender barked.
“Unless you have a fucking good reason why I can’t get it now, your minute’s up.”
“I’m talking to someone, Mr. Rich Boy.”
I growled, but Ryan moved and transferred her frown to him.
“It’s okay,” she said, with less friendliness and, hopefully, less interest. “We can talk afterward. Mr. Keegan’s brother is waiting for him.”
