Yours Truly(68)

“Okay, thanks!” I said, but she was already back to her clipboard and chasing after a man wearing a catering uniform. I shook my head. She reminded me of my mom chasing after my little brother and his friends at a birthday party.

I followed Rachel's directions, easily found the stairs, and descended down. “Man Cave” was an excellent term for the room. A tattered but comfortable-looking couch sat in front of a TV big enough to fit in a theater. I could see all sorts of game consoles plugged in and neatly arranged in a massive entertainment system. There was a much-loved pinball machine in the corner and cozy chairs were scattered through the room. The bar took up the far wall, all wooden and shiny with various neon signs overhead. I could see another adjacent room where the DJ equipment was set up. Two men, one blonde and one with sandy hair, were the only party guests I could see so far.

When I stepped from the bottom stair, a large man stepped directly into my path, his arms crossed and an unhappy look on his face. I gulped hard and looked up at his piercing blue eyes. He looked like a sword: thin, limber, and deadly as hell. Then I noticed the brightly patterned shirt with red parrots and blue drinks. It didn't look right on him. It was like a tiger wearing a tutu.

“Um, I'm the bartender,” I squeaked. Somehow the man grew taller. Scarier. He was the big bad wolf from the fairytales and he was going to eat me alive. “The woman upstairs told me to tell the guy wearing the Hawaiian shirt...” my voice faltered.

“Quit scaring the poor girl,” someone from the party said, putting a hand on Hawaiian-shirt's shoulder. Hawaiian-shirt winked at me, allowing a hint of a smile peek through his tough facade. I nearly giggled with relief.

“Don't mind Dean. He's just mad that we made him dress up for the occasion,” my savior said. “I'm Jack. The bar's this way.”

“Izzy,” I replied. “Nice to meet you.”

I slipped behind the bar and promptly ran into a solid mass of man muscle. I watched in horror as our collision spilled the glass of ice in his hand down the front of his shirt.

“Oh crap! I'm so sorry,” I apologized, reaching for some napkins. I found a dry bar towel and held it out to him. He dabbed at his black t-shirt and laughed.

“Don't worry about it. At least it was just ice,” he said and handed me back the towel. “I'm Noah. I'm going to be helping you out tonight.”

He held out his hand to shake mine. It was warm and strong. My eyes traced from his hand, up perfectly sculpted biceps to a strong jaw and dark hair. His eyes were what made me lose my train of thought, though. They were robin’s egg blue and held depths that made my knees weak. Words left my brain. He was flipping gorgeous.

He picked up a new glass and put fresh ice in it to finish making his drink. Vodka, Sprite, some grenadine, and a cherry on top. A bit girly, I thought, keeping my face straight.

“A Naughty Shirley for the man of the hour,” he said, handing the completed drink across the bar to Jack. Jack took a big sip and let out a sigh of happiness.

“Best bartender ever,” he said, winking at me.

“The woman upstairs didn't say anything about having someone else,” I said. The bar was barely big enough to hold both of us. We were going to be running into one another all night. Taking another look at him, though, I didn't really mind that idea.

“The guys brought me in special. I used to be their bartender when we were in college.” Noah grinned at me.

“All right.” I grinned back and pulled out an empty beer pitcher. I had a couple of crumpled ones in my pocket that I threw in it and set it out on the counter. “What side of the bar do you want?”

“I'll take this side,” Noah said, inclining his head to the left.

“Barkeep!” Jack called out. “Sex on the Beach next, if you don't mind.”

“You know, you really have to buy me dinner first,” Noah told him with a wink, pulling out a bottle of peach schnapps. Despite being a seasoned bartender, hearing the words “sex on the beach” come from the mouth of a devastatingly handsome man made my insides tingle.

“Make me an Angel's Tit, Noah.” The blonde man Jack had been talking to leaned up against the bar. I snickered slightly.

“Any real drinks?” I teased.

“With these two?" Noah laughed. “Not likely. The reason I was their favorite bartender was because I was the only one who could make the drinks girly enough for them!”

I giggled, already feeling the energy of the night. Jack tossed a five dollar bill into the tip jar after Noah handed him his drink. I grinned at him. With guests like these, the night was going to be hilarious- and profitable.