JT pumped his fist. “Rocked it!”
Julia held in the urge to roll her eyes. “You certainly did.”
The man then clapped for himself. “I’ve always dreamed of making the best cocktail in New York.”
Byron cleared his throat, scrubbed a hand across his silvery beard, and cut in. “Now, settle down, soldier. I don’t think our Julia said your drink was the best in the whole city,” he pointed out.
This was Byron’s role on the show. He was the instigator. The prickly one. The man who poked and prodded. Each of the three judges—Julia, Byron, and Crazy Lucy—had their roles, and Julia, as the owner of the bar where the show was shot, played the fun and friendly judge.
That was what she preferred anyway, even with cocky bastards like JT. She liked to encourage the young bartenders to be the best they could be.
Until JT said the next thing.
“I’d like to see who can beat this drink.” JT’s tone surged with brazenness as he gestured at his creation. “Maybe we can have a little friendly competition and see if Miss Purple Snow Globe thinks she has another one in her?”
“Whoa!” Crazy Lucy said, holding up her hands.
Julia’s brows rose. The nerve of the little bastard. Sure, she understood the cameras were rolling and they were making entertainment. But challenging a judge had never been part of the plan.
“You’re a bold one, aren’t you?” she countered, hoping to deflect.
Crazy Lucy, a tattooed bartender from Tribeca who worked the sexy hipster vibe, turned to her at the bar. Crazy Lucy was the wild-card judge. You never knew what she’d do. “You can do it, Julia. You can take anyone on.”
JT pointed to his chest. “But can she take me on? Can she take on the Gin Fiesta? I wouldn’t bet on it,” he drawled.
Bet.
That word was like a thrown gauntlet.
It pissed her off, but it also sparked all her competitive instincts. Julia Nichols, a former card shark who’d gambled her way out of debt from a mobster and then had packed her bags and flown to New York City to join the love of her life, was not a woman who backed down from a challenge or a bet.
“I’ll see your Gin Fiesta, and I’ll raise you one better than the Purple Snow Globe. In fact, how about we put this to the test at the end of next week?”
JT’s jaw dropped, looking thoroughly shocked she’d taken on his dare. She grinned at him, and the other judges cheered while the director, behind the cameramen, punched the air.
When they finished shooting the day’s scenes, she tugged at Byron’s plaid shirt. “Did you plan that?”
He shrugged impishly.
“You did.” She shot Byron a knowing stare. “You told JT to challenge me, right?” He nodded. “Why didn’t you warn me?”
“It’s better theater with you surprised,” he said, dropping a hand to her shoulder. “Besides, I know you can represent the old guard. You go show that whippersnapper who makes the best drinks in Manhattan.”
A grin tugged at her lips. “Flattery will get you everywhere. But did you just say whippersnapper for real?”
He nodded, his gray eyes glinting. “I sure did, and it felt damn good. And listen, this is going to make for great ratings.”
Julia inhaled deeply and nodded. This was going to be a fine storyline, indeed. JT didn’t know who he was dealing with.
Julia was fearless.
4
As Clay landed a punishing right hook on the punching bag, he couldn’t help but think Tyler was taking too big a chance.
He slammed a left next, breathing out hard, then delivered a final combination as he finished his workout alongside his cousin in their boxing gym.
With his breath coming fast, he headed for the nearby water fountain, creaky from years of use, and downed a gulp of cold water. The gym was old and weatherworn from years of use, just the way Clay liked it. He had no need for fancy gyms or equipment when a good hard run and an even harder round of punches and footwork kept him in fighting shape.
As he straightened, he wiped a hand across his mouth. He met Tyler’s gaze and returned to the topic they’d been debating all day. “You sure you want to go after this?”
Tyler nodded, his brown eyes resolute, his gaze certain.
Tyler was bold and confident, and that was why he made a damn good sparring partner and a fine junior partner at the law firm.
Clay shook his head and leaned against the concrete wall. “Man, you don’t make things easy on me.”
Tyler grinned, gripping both ends of the towel around his neck. “Not my job to make it easy.”
“But it’d be nice every now and then if you did,” Clay said, clapping him on the arm.