Steam (Homecoming Hearts #4)(25)

11





Ashby





There was no sign of Trent, so Ashby took one of the many spare seats at the bar’s counter and smiled at the bartender. The guy nodded, drying a glass with a towel as he approached. His name badge read ‘Darnell’ and he barely looked old enough to be serving alcohol. He was, however, very cute with light brown skin, dark curls and a dimple when he smiled back at Ashby.

“Hi, there,” he said. He put the clean glass under the counter and the towel over his shoulder. Then he automatically placed a folded napkin and a small bowl of pretzels in front of Ashby. “What can I get you?”

“Do you have a menu?” Ashby asked. He was in the mood for a fun cocktail.

Darnell gave him a slight frown. “I’m afraid not.” He indicated the bottles of spirits stacked up behind him. “What you see is what you get.”

“Oh,” Ashby said, a little disappointed. “No chance of a Long Island Iced Tea, then?”

Darnell glanced at Bob, watching the baseball at the other end of the bar as usual. Then he rubbed his fingers together and nibbled his lip. “Um, well…I could. I’m just not supposed to. Management says things like that are too ‘foofy.’” He used air quotes to show what he thought of the word ‘foofy.’

Ashby grinned, feeling devilish. He pulled out his key and winked at Darnell. “Room thirteen. I’ll sign for a twenty-dollar tip. I’m game if you are?”

Darnell’s eyes lit up, looking at the key like it was something scandalous. Tentatively, he glanced at Bob, then back at Ashby’s hand. Ashby gave it a little wave, hoping to tempt him. Darnell exhaled, his face lighting up with a grin as he swiftly nodded then rang up a completely different drink on the register with the tip.

Ashby did very well not to clap in delight. This guy was clearly keen to whip up something interesting, rather than pour the same old wines, beers and spirits. Ashby watched as within seconds, Darnell was pouring and stirring with a flourish. He splashed the different spirits together with confidence, although he did glance nervously every now and then at Bob. But he never stopped grinning and poor Bob was too engrossed with the television. Ashby couldn’t help but gasp when Darnell threw the bottle up in the air and caught it again like a juggler.

“You’re really good at this,” Ashby enthused as Darnell finished off the drink with slices of lemon and lime. He pushed it toward Ashby, then took a little bow.

The bartender looked bashful. “I did a mixology course after school,” he said. “I’d love to do more interesting things.”

Ashby tasted the drink and let his eyes flutter closed. “You should. Yummy and pretty. My favorite combination.”

“Thanks,” Darnell said. But his face dropped somewhat as he pulled the towel from his shoulder and began rubbing down the perfectly clean counter.

Ashby frowned and stirred his drink. It tasted so good he was tempted to drink it fast, but that would be a bad idea before eating. Instead, he glanced around at the other patrons, many of whom were women. “I bet you could get away with serving more cocktails, you know?” he said in what he hoped was a supportive manner. “Those ladies there,” he said, nodding toward three middle-aged gals all glammed up. “They’d love cosmopolitans, I bet you anything.”

Darnell shrugged. “We’ll see,” he said.

The couple Ashby had startled previously in the corridor approached the bar, so he left Darnell to it. It wasn’t his place, after all. But he couldn’t help but feel like the guy’s wings were being clipped and that upset Ashby. Life was too short to dance around what you really wanted.

As if to prove his own point, he felt a hand on his lower back. A thrill shot through him as he turned to face who he assumed would be Trent.

It wasn’t.

Ashby immediately flinched, but years of well-trained good manners kept the smile plastered on his face.

The hand belonged to a stranger. He was tanned with a mouthful of straight white teeth and the beginnings of laughter lines crinkling around light blue eyes. He might have been handsome, but there was something predatory in his gaze that set Ashby on edge.

He tipped a gleaming white Stetson Ashby’s way, slipping onto the bar stool beside him. “You look like you’re celebrating,” he drawled in a smooth southern twang. “What’s the occasion?”

His hand graced over Ashby’s hip before he touched his lower lip briefly. His eyes danced as his gaze skimmed over Ashby’s face.

“Um,” Ashby said. Alarm bells were going off in his head. He wanted to get away from the guy but couldn’t see a way do so easily without causing a scene. “Just waiting for my friend,” he said, hoping Trent wasn’t far away. If he was even coming at all. They’d made very loose plans.

“How rude of him to keep you waiting,” the guy said. He flicked two fingers towards the bar, not even looking to see if Darnell was paying attention. “Lucky I’m here to entertain you.” He held out his hand. “Kiefer Burton. Nice to meet you.”

Ashby felt like he had little choice but to reciprocate the shake. “Ashby Wilcott,” he said, pulling his hand back as soon as possible. Kiefer’s skin was awfully dry.

A quick scan of the man’s attire revealed at least seven designer labels as well as manicured nails and a watch that probably cost more than some small countries made in a year. Being from money himself, Ashby wasn’t intimidated. But someone that flashy immediately set his nerves on edge.