Page 11 of Fun and Games
"And then what did you think?" I asked. "After you talked to me, I mean."
Mason gave me a not-so subtle look, dragging his gaze down my body, lingering on my legs and ass, then slowly made his way back up to meet my now-flushed face.
"Then I realized you're a trivia geek." There was a hint of humor in his eyes.
"Are you not?" I asked, trying to cool the heat rapidly rising inside me. "As the manager, weren't you the one who organized a pub trivia night?"
"It's not so much that I like trivia," he said. "I just like learning interesting facts, especially about different places," he said. "It gives me some common ground with other people."
"Is that a bartender thing?" I asked. "Needing to make small talk with customers?"
"I'm not a bartender," he reminded me. "I don't need to make small talk, luckily."
It wasn't like he was bad at it, though. We'd been chatting casually for the last half hour with no awkward pauses, except for the ones when I lost myself staring at him.
But at least I wasn't the only one doing it.
"So is your only hobby pub trivia?" Mason asked. "Or do you like other things?"
"I'm a huge Disney fan," I confessed. "Mostly the Disney Princess movies. My dream is to own a sparkling princess tiara of my own."
He chuckled. "Are you also waiting for your prince to come?"
"I can make myself come without the help of any prince, thank you very much," I needled him. I normally wouldn't have made such a bold innuendo in front of, essentially, a stranger, but, for some reason, I felt comfortable enough around Mason to let loose my inhibitions.
He eyed me. "You sure did seem to enjoy having my help, though."
"Let's call it a team effort."
We finally reached the off-leash dog park. I knelt down and unhooked their collars from their leashes, letting the cute little things run free. They circled around our legs, yapping and panting. Mason bent down briefly to give them scratches on the back of their necks as a wide, bright smile crossed his face. He really did love dogs.
"So what exactly does a manager at a bar do?" I asked.
Mason began talking about shift schedules, keeping track of inventory, balancing the budget, and a bunch of other business stuff I didn't know much about.
I didn't mind. With his smooth low tones, I would have listened to him talk about budgets and inventory for hours.
"Sorry," Mason said after a few minutes. "I've been rambling about boring stuff."
"It's much more interesting than my job," I said.
"What does a front desk admin at a tech company do?" he asked, echoing my previous words.
"Greet people, answer phones and stare out the window, mostly," I said. "I don't see much action."
"I know the feeling," he said. "I'm already starting to get a little antsy with the amount of time I spend at a desk doing paperwork. I'm not used to it. I'm not used to being in one place for so long."
"You said you've only been there a few months," I said. "What did you used to do before you managed the bar?"
He paused, and I wondered if there was some kind of big revelation to come.
"I used to be in the music industry," he finally said, almost reluctantly.
"Really?" I asked, intrigued. "Are you a producer or something?"
A strange look crossed his face.
"No, I managed artists." He gave me a puzzled look. "Is that really the first thing that came to mind when I said music industry?"
