“Boys.” I smile stiffly and toss two coasters on the bar as Beau and Jasper saunter up, pulling stools out for themselves and greeting Gary. Beau reaches across the bar, avoiding my gaze, and grabs my hand. He presses a kiss to the top of it, his usual bar greeting for me since we got engaged. His lips brush my skin and electricity sizzles their wake as I tug my hand away.
Gary slurs some sort of greeting and I shake my head at him. He tosses his keys up on the bar without argument and gives me a watery smile.
Attention back on Beau and Jasper, I finish with, “What can I grab ya?” My eyes meet Beau’s briefly and his gaze scorches me. It licks over my body, hot and intense. Tongue darting out over his lips when he gets to my breasts. The ones propped up in my very best bra, because fuck him for leaving me this morning.
“Hi, Bailey,” Jasper says kindly, eyes bouncing between Beau and me. “I’ll have a Rose Hill Red, please.”
Beau’s brows furrow as he turns to his friend. “Not a Buddyz Best? I thought that was yours and Sloane’s favorite.”
Jasper laughs, caramel locks shaking around his ears, skin beside his eyes crinkling. “Truth is, I don’t really like it. But Sloane does, so I drink it with her.”
Beau seems confused. “You drink beer you don’t like because your wife does?”
Jasper shrugs, offering me a knowing wink. “Yeah. Makes her happy. It’s our thing. I’ll sit around and drink watery Buddyz Best with Sloane for the rest of my damn life if it makes her happy.”
I swallow and blink away. Fuck. That’s really cute.
Meanwhile, I’ve got the emotional equivalent of a rock sitting across from me after hightailing it out of my bed this morning like he couldn’t get away fast enough.
And I wasn’t even asking him to drink watery beer with me.
“I’ll have a Rose Hill Red, too.” Beau’s long fingers rap against the bar top, and I slice him an are you sure kind of look.
He nods.
“You’ll like it, man,” Jasper carries on, unperturbed. “There’s a little brewery in Rose Hill where we just had training camp. The best craft beers, patio right on the lake. Can’t beat it.” Then he launches into a conversation about hockey, and I instantly zone them out.
While I pour the pints, I mull over all the alcoholics I’ve known in my life. I peek over at Gary—all the alcoholics I’ve served here. I know Beau isn’t one of them. I saw Beau at a down-and-out moment in his life, and he quit without a backward glance.
Peeking up over the reddish-brown beer accumulating in the pint glass, I watch him. And he catches me. Our eyes lock for a beat, and another. My heart rate quickens.
And just like last night, dancing with his hands all over me, everything around us melts away. Until the only things that exist are him and me and the air between us that feels thick enough to trip on.
Cold liquid hits my hand as the beer overflows. “Shit! What the hell. This tap always pours slow and then today it magically works.” I shake my hand off, but all that does is flip a sizeable spot of beer foam right onto my cleavage. I watch it there, white and dripping, then my gaze flits up to Beau’s, which is plastered on the same spot.
Only me.
After last night? This would only happen to me.
With one finger, I wipe the foam off the rounded top of my breasts and shake my hand off again. The splatter falls to the rubber mat beneath my feet, wetness dotting my sandals.
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, can you two not? We’re in public right now.” Jasper groans and scrubs a hand over his face.
I decide now isn’t the moment where I’ll start cowering around these guys. I’m a bartender. I’m paid to banter with creepy old men. My fake fiancé and his best friend should be a breeze.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jasper.” I force my eyes to go comically wide, staring at the man like I’m genuinely confused. “It’s just beer.”
Poor, sweet Jasper Gervais. His neck turns pink first, right at the edge of his stubble. I watch it creep up his throat and spread across his cheeks. “It’s just that you two were all”—he makes googly eyes and sort of shakes his hands beside his face—“and then it looks like … well, you know.”
I blink a few times, channeling my inner Bambi and leaning into the fact that I look younger than my age. “What does it look like? I don’t follow.”
Jasper blinks back at me and tugs at the neckline of his hoodie like it’s choking him. But I know better. It’s the awkwardness that’s choking him.