Barely Breathing(8)

“So how’s it going?” I asked, not wanting to leave.

He shrugged. “Usual. You didn’t have to bring that shirt back.”

“I don’t mind. My friend Cara came with me. I wasn’t trying to name drop, but when I told the guy at the door that I had your shirt, he let us in and we ended up with a table upstairs.”

A hint of a smile danced on Kane’s lips. “Good. You guys should order dinner, we’ve got a great chef.”

“I think Cara wants sushi.”

Kane arched his brows. “Jim makes kickass sushi.”

“Really? Okay then, we’ll—”

“Kane.” A woman in the dark v-neck t-shirt worn by the servers appeared in the doorway. “Sorry to interrupt, but shit just went bad at the bar. A couple customers accused Bryce of shorting them alcohol in their drinks and they really laid into him over it. He started crying and quit.”

“The f*ck?” Kane shook his head in disbelief.

“I’d take over, but we’re getting slammed out there. No one else knows how to bartend.”

“Get back out there.” He stood and waved her toward the front of the club. “I’ll be right out.”

He turned to me. “I have the worst f*ckin’ luck with bartenders. You don’t know any good ones, do you?”

I swallowed hard and grinned, trying to radiate confidence. “Just one. Me.”

This time he did smile. It was a surprised, no way in hell kind of grin.

We walked to the door at the same time.

“You?” he asked, disbelief in his tone.

“I was a bartender in law school.”

He leaned on the doorframe. “How do you make a Manhattan?”

“Canadian whiskey, sweet vermouth and a dash of bitters. A bit of cherry juice if I’ve got it.”

He gave a slight nod of appreciation.

“I make the best Lemon Drop you’ve ever had,” I said, enjoying the way he was looking at me.

He scowled slightly. “Do I look like I drink those?”

“I guess not,” I conceded, smiling. “But you should try mine. Not a grain of sugar on my hands, either.”

“So when you’re getting your ass kicked and you’ve got a line four deep at your bar, how do you make a Mojito?”

“I tell them to order something else.” I crossed my arms. “Ain’t nobody got time for mint-mashing when you’re that busy.”

“I never should have doubted you,” Kane said, his dark eyes shining with amusement. “You are a bartender. And tonight, I am, too.”

He left the office and I followed him down the hallway and across the crowded floor of the club. The long, dark wood bar was swarming with angry-looking customers and impatient-looking servers.

I touched Kane’s arm to get his attention in the noisy room. His skin was warm, his bicep rock hard with muscle. He looked at my fingers on his arm and then at me.

“Want some help?” I asked.

He looked at the mob in front of the bar for just a second before nodding. I followed him to the end of the bar, where he lifted the swinging counter and stepped aside for me to enter first.

“You handle the servers since they bill their own drinks,” he said in my ear. My skin prickled with warm awareness at the feel of his breath on my bare skin.

The bar was clean and well-stocked. A martini shaker sat abandoned where Bryce had probably left it. Patrons were yelling out orders, but Kane silenced them with a glare.

“One at a time,” he said, his tone authoritative. The clamor eased up and I turned to the group of several servers at the end of the bar.

“Just here to help,” I said, washing my hands quickly at the nearby sink. “Who’s up first?”

I took an order for three Cosmos and four shots, crossing paths with Kane as I went down to make them. He was headed to the sink to wash up before making his first drink.

Even though it’d been a few years, I fell back into the rhythm quickly. Pouring, measuring and shaking were second nature to me after three years as a bartender. The recipes came back quickly for most of the drinks, and the servers were able to help with the others.

Kane was a natural bartender. I watched him with every free second I could spare. He kept both hands busy at all times, sometimes working on more than one drink at once.

I cleared the line of servers in less than fifteen minutes and then backed up Kane, making the more time-intensive drinks for him. I soon realized there was no catching up at Six. The group of thirsty customers just grew as the night got later.

I’d looked up at the balcony a couple times and caught flashes of Cara’s blond hair. She was dancing. Cara made friends wherever she went. I, on the other hand, had confidence in myself but still felt awkward inserting myself into people’s social circles.

“Here comes our relief,” Kane said after about an hour. Two men came through the swinging counter and one gave Kane a puzzled look.

“Shift starts at nine, right?” he asked.

“Yeah. Bryce quit,” Kane said.

The man smiled and glanced at me. “Looks like you found a much prettier replacement.”

“She’s just helping me out,” Kane said gruffly. “Eyes on your bar, Hintz.”

Kane nodded to the swinging counter and opened it for me. I walked through and headed for the stairs, not sure where else to go. When I stopped near the grand entrance to the second floor, Kane was still next to me.