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Magical Midlife Battle (Leveling Up, #8)(17)

Author:K.F. Breene

Perfect. It was starting to seem like Tristan and Niamh might work incredibly well together.

“Sure,” the bartender said, popping her hip. “What can I getchya?”

“Hennessy, neat.” He looked at Sebastian.

“Do you have Four Roses, single barrel?” Sebastian asked.

Her gaze was slow to find him. “Yup.”

“I’ll have that please, one ice cube.”

“Sure thing, coming right up.” She looked down Tristan’s back in passing, checking out his wings.

She had definitely never seen a gargoyle before.

Behind the bar, already working on Tristan’s drink, she glanced over at Niamh and did a double take at Edgar, who was awkwardly sitting on the stool beside her.

“Hello,” the bartender said slowly.

“Don’t mind him.” Niamh waved Edgar away. “He’s not dangerous, just senile. Everyone finds him off-putting, not just ye.”

Her eyebrows climbed. “Oh-kay.”

“What kind of ciders do ye have?” Niamh asked, trying to get the show on the road. She was feeling good about this outing. This woman was obviously used to shifters and townies, so anything abnormal would definitely have stuck out to her. Momar’s guys would definitely qualify as abnormal.

The bartender rattled off the options as she finished the lads’ drinks. Two weren’t actually ciders and the other two were crap.

“I’ll have a whiskey,” Niamh said once the woman had delivered the drinks to the lads and returned.

“And how about…you?” The bartender gave Edgar a side-eye, clearly not wanting to look directly at him.

“Oh, I’m content just to sit here and watch all the patrons in a non-creepy way.” He did that weird, simpering smile again.

“He’ll have a whiskey, same as me,” Niamh said.

“So, what’s the occasion?” the bartender said conversationally as she got to work, glancing at Tristan again. “Costume party?”

“Yeah,” Niamh replied. “Where’s your clown suit?”

The woman huffed out a laugh before turning and putting their drinks on the bar. “What are you really here for, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Niamh could see the wariness hidden beneath her bartending bravado. That was very good news.

It meant she paid attention to the clientele instead of just going about her job like a drone.

“Business transaction,” Niamh said with a heap of boredom. “Maybe. I shouldn’t speak out of turn. We haven’t gotten the job yet. We’re headed to the Barazza territory.”

“Oh yeah?” The woman leaned against the bar, glancing out the door and then at Tristan for a moment. “Been to that territory before?”

“No. First time. They’re expecting us later today. What do ye know of it? Seems like the alpha’s got a right stick up his arse.”

She grimaced before glancing down the bar at the other patrons. One was low on beer, so she headed that way, grabbing him another. He muttered a thanks and went back to watching the TV

showing sports highlights.

The bartender wandered back and said in a low voice, “You probably shouldn’t say that too loudly…” She spared another glance at Tristan, clearly admiring the view, before finishing, “He’s very well respected.”

“Well, sure. But that doesn’t mean he’s not got a right stick up his arse.”

Her expression was half smile, half grimace as she pushed back to lean against the back edge of the bar. “I’ve never met him, so I don’t know, but you should be fine. The guys who come in here from that pack are almost all gentleman. They cut down trouble to almost zero.”

Niamh grunted, sipping her drink. A body had to be careful when getting information off people.

Slow and steady, a little yank at the thread of information each time.

The bartender wandered down to check on the others, and Niamh downed her shot and passed the empty off to Edgar.

“My, that was tasty.” Edgar rubbed his belly.

She took his. “I’m not Jessie. Ye don’t have to pretend with me, like.”

“Oh, I like to. It helps me fit in.”

“Trust me, it doesn’t.”

“What’s going on with that pack, anyway?” the bartender asked after moseying back, not in a rush.

“I don’t know whatch’ye mean,” Niamh answered.

The bartender crossed her arms over her chest, leaning back again. “All the regulars from that pack have been pretty close-lipped about it, but it seems like they’ve got some trouble going on.”

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