Page 60 of Playing His Game

The bartender, easily old enough to be his mother, gave him a once-over. “Nope, just your ability to keep things running smoothly. You’ve got ‘shit disturber’ and ‘shameless flirt’ written all over you.”

Adam snorted.

Mo gently slapped his pec with the back of his hand and groaned, “Babe, where’s the love?”

“Not oblivious,” Adam said dryly.

The bartenders quickly assessed their skills and divided up the work. They put Chinner on the cocktail station, Adam in front of the beer taps, and Mo between them, with instructions to help where he could.

Because he was Mo, he took this to meanmake a menace of yourself.

At least most of the ultra-wealthy patrons here had better manners than Mo’s parents, Adam thought as he pulled the hundredth beer of the night. Additionally, most of them easily fell prey to Mo’s over-the-top charm.

Despite their checkered past, Adam couldn’t say that surprised him. Mo grew up around the wealthy and with parents who largely ignored him. He must’ve learned early how to get the attention he wanted.

Unfortunately, Mo also knew the rich people at this party weren’t here for him. Adam had figured Mo as the type to take that personally, but instead, he was having the time of his life doing what Adam could only describe asflirting on Adam’s behalf.

“Yes, ma’am, he will absolutely pull you an IPA, and he’ll look incredible doing it. Darling!” The little menace leaned over Adam’s station and batted his eyes. “This poor woman isdyingof thirst.”

Behind him, a well-dressed thirtysomething barely held back her laughter. “I’msothirsty,” she agreed.

“Can she have an IPA, pretty please? Oh—but with a side of—no, here, just let me help you?—”

Before Adam could protest, Mo was unbuttoning Adam’s shirtsleeves and rolling them up his forearms.

“We wouldn’t want anything spilled on the shirt, after all!” he said brightly.

The woman slipped a bill into the tip jar—which would go to charity, after the actual bartenders’ take. She met Adam’s eye with a quick, shy smile, then said to Mo, “Give you an extra fifty to undo a couple buttons.”

Mo cackled. “I like you so much! Adam, darling, think of the children?—”

With a resigned, put-upon sigh, Adam tilted his head back so Mo could loosen his tie and work on his collar.

“I do have to warn you that most of him cannot be bought!” Mo tugged the ends of the bow tie until they hung loose and flicked open his collar. The touch of his fingertips at Adam’s throat sent an involuntary shiver through him, and he almost spilled the beer.

Not that anyone noticed that, what with Mo holding court.

Adam shut off the tap as Mo released him. “There we go, ladies and gentlebeings! He’s here all night to take requests?—”

Finally, an hour or so in, some bigwig gave a speech about the charity, and Adam got a lull while people listened and clapped politely. “How come you’re not pulling this act on Chinner?”

Mo huffed through his nose. “Chinner’s doing fine all on his own. No one had to tell him to show off for the ladies.”

Oh. Well, that made sense. Chinner could do tricks with cocktail shakers. Adam had seen at least three women slip him their number.

“I don’t mind serving beer.” Adam shifted his weight. “I’m not great at flirting.” At least not with an audience, and definitely not when he didn’t mean it.

Mo patted his shoulder. “You have other talents.”

Adam shot him a sideways look.

Mo grinned. “Don’t worry. I won’t let you lose the tip contest. Even if I do have notes for whoever named it that.”

Adam stifled a laugh. “How do you know about it?”

“Please, as if you overgrown frat boys could do anything without making it into a competition.” He paused while the assembled crowd applauded some canned words of inspiration. “Anyway, I’ll make sure you get the biggest tip, and then later?—”

Adam blushed pre-emptively. No one was listening and hestillfelt the urge to cover his face.