Page 4 of Unsure in Love

“Gosh, Marco. What are you trying to do, kill me?”

The tall and incredibly toned bartender chuckled. His eyes crinkled at the corners, which I thought was cute. “You said to give you a potent poison. There you have it.”

Lifting one eyebrow, I peered into my glass, shrugged, and took another sip. If the first taste of Devil’s Spring vodka didn’t kill me, I guess I could indulge some more.

“I feel like such a cliché. I’m sitting in a bar at midnight, drowning my sorrows.” I glanced down at myself and huffed. “And in a bridesmaid's dress, no less.”

Marco grinned. “Your sister's wedding couldn’t have been that bad.”

“No, it was amazing. I swear, doves flew and squirrels were about to come out and sing like in a freaking Disney movie. It was absolutely beautiful.” There was probably a hint of disgust on my face because I was never comfortable with the overly sappy stuff, but my love for my sister overrode my mild discomfort. The best part of the day was the happiness shining in Lucy’s eyes as if all of her dreams had come true.

Marco chuckled. “Doves and singing squirrels, huh? Somehow those words coming out of your mouth seem wrong.” He gave me a once-over. “No offense, but you don’t look the type to have doves and singing rodents on the brain.”

My lips quirked. Considering that my sisters jokingly called me Wednesday Addams all the time, he was probably right. Taking another sip from my glass, I shrugged. “I’ve been babysitting my niece a lot.”

Nic’s daughter, Kesley, was a princess movie fanatic. I’d sat through so many of them with her that I was almost brainwashed into actually believing fairytales were real.

“Okay, so what else is bothering you? You’ve been moping around here for hours. Have I mentioned how out of place you look?”

I smiled. With the lavender one-shoulder satin dress I still had on, I stuck out like a sore thumb. The flower crown of white and pink roses my sister April suggested all the bridesmaids wear still sat on my head.

“You ‌look good, though.” Marco grinned. “Stunning.”

The last word was murmured, but I heard it over the chatter and clinking glasses and bottles. I’d been coming to this bar on the outskirts of town for a while, but this was the first time he’d seen me so dressed up. Marco was used to rocker-chic-Cass, not primped-and-pretty-Cass.

“Thanks,” I muttered.

A tinge of pink highlighted his cheeks, and my eyebrows shot up. He was obviously into me. I studied him under my lashes. Maybe I could ditch my getting drunk mission and use Marco as a distraction instead. He was attractive.

God. No.

He seemed too interested in me. I couldn’t play with Marco’s emotions. He was a nice guy. Besides, I thought he and I would make better friends than lovers.

“So, are you ready to take a spin on my therapy couch?” he asked.

I looked up at him with raised eyebrows. “I don’t know you like that, Marco. No thanks.”

“Because you refuse to get to know me.” There was a bite in his tone.

It wasn’t my fault I kept most at arm’s length. My parents ruined the trusting nature I probably would have had.

“Plus, I’m a bartender.” He smirked. “We’re pretty much psychiatrists, right?”

I laughed. “I’ll pass.” A shrink, or a bartender, wasn’t who I needed to tell me I’d messed up big time.

“You’ve been showing up here for months,” he reminded me. “We’re hardly strangers.”

I gave him a dubious look. We were strangers. I’d frequented this bar for a while because it was out of Oakland. My small-town had too many busybodies whom I adored but wanted to avoid sometimes. This bar was packed with people who didn’t know me, and I liked the anonymity.

All Marco knew about me was my first name, and I was comfortable with that.

“Still, you don’t have to entertain me every time I come in here.” I swept the bar, zeroing in on a brunette who practically undressed Marco with her eyes. “You have plenty of other customers craving your attention.”

“Sure, but I’m especially interested in one.” He wore a grin and held my gaze. His eyes were an intense shade of blue. They were so dark, they appeared like a midnight sky. They were unusual. However, his stare did nothing to me... not like the Latin Lover’s did. I sighed inwardly. Why was I even thinking about him?

“Latin Lover” was my brother-in-law’s friend. I met him at the rehearsal dinner a few days ago. The man had eyes so dark they were like obsidian stones. He looked at me as if he could see through to my soul. It was a little daunting… sexually. Or maybe the heated way he looked at me was all in my head. For all I knew, the man looked at everyone with the same shiver-worthy intensity.

He said his name was Damian and that was all he volunteered. I dubbed him “Latin Lover” after I heard him speaking fluent Spanish on the phone. I wondered if he was speaking to his girlfriend. I’d itched to ask if he was single, but I doubted he'd give me an answer to such a personal question. He was a man of few words, and I found that incredibly sexy.

---