Page 2 of About Last Night
DEVON
Sliding our latest brew across the bar, I smile at the guy who ordered it. “Here you go. Let me know what you think.”
Lifting the glass in a cheers motion, he says, “Will do,” with the grin of man who’s had a few already.
My gaze tracks him to his table and the group of regulars surrounding it. Each has a different beer, all from the selection of brews my brothers and I have been working on for months. Happy with their obvious enjoyment of our blends, I scan the rest of the room to make sure everyone’s drinks are full.
We’re down a waitress, and Belle has been run off her feet most of the afternoon. Good thing two more wait staff and another bartender are due to start within the hour.
I’m the only one of my brothers here today. Carter and Garrett are at a wedding with their girlfriends, Livi and Lexi. Not that being here alone is a problem. Now that we have a decent amount of staff on our roster, there are times when none of us are here.
But Saturdays are always busy, and this one is no different. I’m expecting more patrons to arrive as the afternoon moves into evening, and I’ll have to remind everyone to keep an eyeon the numbers. It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve pushed our capacity limit.
As that thought goes through my head the door bursts open, and a woman strides in. Her purposeful steps, the set of her face, tells anyone looking not to get in her way. She’s on a mission.
Glancing at my watch, I frown before returning my eyes to our newest arrival.
This particular customer shouldn’t be here. Not at this time. And she’s definitely not dressed in what she should be wearing today.
Oh, her sky-high heels with their thin straps and sparkles are right. But the wide legged purple pants and the formfitting multi-colored blouse are not.
Elizabeth catches my gaze with hers and makes a beeline for the stool on the other side of the bar from where I’m standing. Neither of us speaks until she’s settled. Me because I can’t decide what question swirling in my head needs to be asked first. When she breaks the silence, it isn’t what I expect to hear.
“A shot of top shelf tequila.”
The frown that hasn’t left my face since I laid eyes on her deepens. “You don’t drink tequila.”
“I do today.” The smile she shoots me is strained—forced—more of a grimace, and I want to pull her into my arms and tell her I’ll fix whatever fucked up her day.
“One shot of tequila coming up.”
I keep an eye on her while I grab the Calle 23 bottle off the shelf and a glass from under the counter. Without a word, I prep her request and place the shot in front of her, keeping the bottle in my hand.
“Thanks.”
Her delicate thumb and index finger grip the shot by the base and she picks it up as she leans forward. Her pink lips wraparound the top of the whole glass and letting go, she tips her head back and swallows the clear liquid in one gulp.
My dick twitches in my pants. It’s a sexy move. One I would never expect from this cultured woman.
Not that my dick doesn’t normally twitch around Elizabeth.
Ever since Carter’s girlfriend Livi introduced her two best friends, I’ve had a thing for Elizabeth. She makes me feel like a teenager with a crush. Like a man without control.
It’s not a feeling I like.
Placing her empty glass back on the bar, she pushes it toward me, her gaze meeting mine. “Thank you.”
I hold up the bottle in question.
With a shake of her head, she leans her elbows on the bar and says, “My usual, thanks.”
All right, it’s a one-shot day. Honestly, I’m surprised. She shouldn’t be here. Right about now she should be walking down the aisle toward the pompous prick who doesn’t deserve her. My gaze moves to her left hand to find her fingers bare.
I have so many questions. But I shove them back and give her what she asked for. Placing her gin and tonic with a splash of lime in front of her, I stay close while tidying up. Rick has the bar covered and I know Jay will be in soon to take over from me. Except my plan to leave them to it is now squashed.
I won’t be walking out of this bar before Elizabeth.
Whatever went on today—her wedding day—wasn’t good, but my phone has remained suspiciously quiet in my back pocket. I’m itching to text my brothers. They have to know why this woman is in our bar.
