Page 77 of Dead Serious with Benefits
“As good a time as any to have a drink,” Arlo said with a chuckle and then hesitated. “Uh...is Roger at the bar today?”
Rebecca cocked her head. “No. I guess Mason owed Moira a favor, and he’s working it until Lena comes in at eleven.”
Arlo sighed. “I suppose there’s no getting away from it. And here I thought I could hold off on this one.”
“I am forced to wonder what is so bad about either myself or your brother that you’re so concerned about us meeting,” I said, turning to find Will standing behind us. “Are you coming or are you planning on staring at our asses while we walk off?”
“I can do both,” Will said. “But I’ll catch up.”
I could see the way the woman behind the desk glanced at him and snorted. “You know my number.”
Arlo sighed beside me. “Tell me the truth, did you hire him because he’s good-looking and as horny as you?”
I let out a laugh. “No, my mother originally hired him because he had a long list of previous clients who had recommended him and showed perfect professionalism. Within one conversation, I could see he was anythingbutprofessional and well-behaved, and I wanted him on my payroll immediately. Not just because of his...naughtiness, but because he fooled the living shit out of my mother.”
“Of course, that was your reason,” Arlo said fondly as he led me to the bar. It was pretty busy for the middle of the afternoon, but most of the customers were at the tables rather than the bar itself.
“Oh,” I said when I spotted the man behind the bar. He was...quite big, not as big as Dom, but his size drew attention easily. His dark looks didn’t hurt either, or the easy smile, or the wicked glint in his eyes. Well, the muscles and good features were also going to draw attention. “That’s your brother?”
Arlo gave me a look. “Really?”
“Sorry,” I said with a laugh, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and squeezing. “Is your entire family good-looking?”
Arlo sighed. “Mason!”
Mason looked up and smiled. “Well, well, what brings you in, Arlo? Definitely not a drink, I don’t think I’ve seen you have a drink before…somewhere around eight.”
“I could use one, and so could Ward,” he said as he sat at the bar. “Bourbon, rocks, you know the drill. Work your magic on him.”
“On him?” Mason asked, eyes sweeping over me. There was interest, but I noticed his eyes didn’t linger on any one part of my body for too long as he grunted. “I’ve got just the thing.”
“Curious,” I said slowly as I sat next to Arlo. “So, what’s this about?”
“You’ll see,” Arlo said with a secretive smile.
Raising a brow, I settled back into my seat and decided to see. Arlo clearly knew what was going on, and it was the first time he had been vague with me in a playful sense rather than because of something that felt more serious. So I waited, watching Mason behind the bar, but I ignored what he was doing; it was supposed to be a surprise, why spoil it by peeking?
A glass with amber liquid around a spherical chunk of ice slid in front of Arlo, and a tall martini glass was dropped in front of me. I leaned forward, letting the scent waft into my nose before I took a drink. It was...well, I suppose it counted as a dirty martini; there was definitely the briny taste of olive, along with the slightly floral gin that leaked through. But something else shot through everything and lit up my mouth before mellowing to let the other flavors come into play.
“I will absolutely require this recipe before I leave,” I said with a grunt. “My God, that is good. You didn’t tell me your brother was a damn fine mixologist.”
“Bartender,” Mason corrected with a smirk. “Calling me something as fancy as a mixologist will get you a glass of vermouth and water for the rest of the night.”
“Duly noted,” I said with a laugh. “Now, is that an absence of, or an insistence on being seen as humble?”
“There is not one damn thing about me that’s humble, so you can forget that. But I’ll be damned before I get lumped in with abunch of people who think that studying drinks somehow makes them better than someone slinging drinks at a dive bar,” Mason said with a wag of his finger. “I’m good at this because I’ve drunk more than your average alcoholic.”
“It’s his gift,” Arlo said with a shrug. “He can look at someone and know the perfect drink for them.”
“Most of the time,” Mason corrected. “I’m not going to have expectations so high that I’m doomed to fail.”
“Most of the time,” Arlo amended. “There are some people he hasn’t quite figured out yet, like me. He wants so badly to find a special mixed drink for me, but so far, bourbon is enough. It drives him crazy because he can do it with people he just met, you, for example, and yet he struggles to find something for someone he’s spent a good chunk of his childhood with.”
“I hate to admit he’s right, and I won’t do it in front of anyone else but...he’s right, it does get to me,” Mason said with a wistful, regret-filled sigh. “I don’t know what it is about him. I just can’t figure it out. But I will, one day.”
I glanced at Arlo and thought about it. “You know?—”
Arlo’s brow rose. “Don’t tell me you’re going to succeed where Mason has failed repeatedly...for years.”
