Page 6 of Jumping In
Coming to this party was a bad idea, but he was there and Ewan had invited him, so the least he could do was wish him well. Then he’d get his truck from the special parking space, stop by the drive-thru liquor store, and go home. He remembered the state of his house and decided a bar might be a better destination. Speaking of bars, he needed to visit the one there to get a little more liquid fortification before he could bring himself to do the right thing and congratulate Ewan.
With one more sigh, Clint dragged his fingers through his hair and made his way to the north corner, weaving through the crowd. The line was half-a-dozen people long but he eventually reached the front and handed the bartender the empty champagne flutes.
“I’ll have a beer, please,” he said. “An amber or a lager if you have them. Otherwise, anything cold’s great.”
“I’m sorry, we don’t have beer.”
Clint blinked a few times, thinking over the sentence and, after coming up with no alternative meaning said, “Is this the bar?”
It looked like a bar, there were wine bottles and glasses behind the bartender, but a bar meant beer.
“Yes.” The bartender smiled at him.
“Oh.” He furrowed his brow in thought. “Did you run out?”
“With the amount they ordered, we’re never running out of anything.” The bartender laughed. “Besides, the guests have been here less than an hour.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “The customers wanted to portray a certainatmosphereand they felt beer didn’t fit.”
Huh. That sounded quite a bit like Ewan, actually. Clint had never fit in the atmosphere he wanted to portray either. At least he was in good company. Him and beer.
“Tell me you have something other than that champagne,” he said pleadingly.
She tilted her head toward the bottles of wine and raised her eyebrows in question.
Clint sighed in defeat.
“I’ll tell you what,” the bartender said, chuckling. “You keep this on the down low and I’ll make you something special.” She bent over, shuffling underneath the bar, and then stood, holding a bottle of Scotch. “I found this Dewar’s when I was unpacking.” She picked up a tumbler and started pouring. “Guess it was leftover from the last job.” She set the bottle down and reached for the small refrigerator behind her. “I can add in soda water and you’ll have a decent drink.”
“If you can skip the soda, that’d be perfect.”
She snorted. “That kind of night, huh?”
He shrugged.
The bartender picked up the Dewar’s, poured another finger, and handed it back to Clint.
“I have to say, you don’t look like you belong here.” She paused. “And I mean that as a compliment.”
“I really don’t,” he agreed and took a sip, wincing as the liquor burned down his throat. “And thanks.” He raised the glass to his lips again.
“If I write my number on a napkin, any chance you’ll call me?”
Initially surprised and more than a little flattered, Clint kept drinking as he tried to come up with the right words to let the nice woman down gently. But before he thought of an answer, a too-tight squeeze to his arm stole his attention.
“What are you doing here?” hissed Ewan.
Clint raised his glass to the bartender in a silent thank you slash apology and turned around to answer his ex’s not-so-nicely-asked question.
“You invited me, remember?” Clint said. “I wanted to—”
“You’re supposed to be camping until tomorrow! I didn’t think you’d actually show up.”
Until that moment, Clint had never heard a whispered shout. It was impressive. He slammed back the drink, set the empty glass on the side of the bar, and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth.
“Why did you invite me if I wasn’t supposed to come?”
“To be polite!” Ewan rolled his eyes. “And what are you wearing?”
Initially sneering, Ewan ran his gaze over Clint, but when he looked up again, his expression had turned hungry.
