Page 106 of A Guy Walks Into My Bar
As a friend of Dean’s, we always found ourselves at the same parties and events and I got to know him better after his split, and he became my friend too.
“And you. Looks like I lucked out with my booth neighbor,” Sam says, drawing me into a hug. He feels so solid pressed against me, and he smells like clean sandalwood. I catch myself breathing him in and step back.
“How’s Sticks and Stones doing?”
“No complaints. The bigger question is how are you doing without Dean?”
“I miss him terribly, especially when I need someone to lift heavy things or reach high shelves. Speaking of, I have to go find a ladder to get these tassels hung up.”
I hold up the gold-and-silver tassels I brought to liven up the top of the booth.
“He’s not the only tall guy around, you know. I can give you a hand.”
“Oh, I’m fine,” I say. I’ve gotten used to going it alone. “I’ll just stretch high.”
Sam laughs, low and hearty. “What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t step in to help?”
I glance behind me at the booth.
But on the other hand, I could use the help. “I do need to get changed. Would you be willing to hang some stuff up while I run to the loo?”
Sam frowns. “Wait a minute. You’re not going to wear those fine leggings?”
Oh, did he just compliment my legs? I think he did, and I liked it.
“Sadly, no. I need to look like a professional. Ergo, no yoga pants.”
Sam sighs. “Such a shame. But I guess I’ll help you out anyway.”
I laugh and grab my bag of clothes. A rush of heat runs down the back of my neck at feeling Sam’s eyes on me.
I tell myself not to read too much into Sam and his flirtations, and head for the restroom, where I swap gym clothes for the red dress I picked for the occasion.
I slip on my heels and head back to the booth. My mouth falls open when I see that Sam not only has finished hanging the tassels but also has set out my flyers for The Magpie.
“Booth decorator extraordinaire.”
“Indeed I am,” he says, and when he turns around, his eyes take an obvious detour up my body.
“And with that dress, I don’t know that I’ll be able to pay attention to my booth.”
I roll my eyes, though I don’t mind the compliment. “Please. It’ll be easy. You’ll have so many ladies flocking to you. Just like they do in life.”
“Do they flock to me? I hadn’t noticed.”
I laugh. “Oh no, you’re not trapping me into admitting that.”
But it’s hard to tear my gaze away from the handsome man as he walks to his booth beside mine.
Uh-oh.
I know this feeling.
This feeling can only lead to trouble.
It’s the same one that led me to think that Jeremy was a good guy.
If anything, liking Sam would be even riskier. The inevitable crash and burn would hurt more because he wouldn’t be some random guy. I would lose a friend.
So, I need to pull it together and ignore the remnant of heat skating along the back of my neck.
Even though it feels so good.
By the time the event’s over, I’ve made more small talk than I ever thought possible—which, as an experienced bartender, is saying something—and have run out of ways to describe The Magpie’s “modern, inventive energy.” I’ve also served hundreds of old-fashioneds, and I’m sure I smell like orange and whiskey.
As I pack up the glassware and the decorations Sam stops by, smiles and starts taking down my higher decorations.
“You read my mind,” I say, setting a hand briefly on his shoulder. His strong, firm shoulder. “Dean used to help me with stuff like that. Too bad the prat had to go and fall in love.”
Sam laughs. “From what I hear, someone did push him along the way.”
I shrug, grabbing some of the flyers and tucking them in a box. “Who am I to stand in the way of true love?”
“You really knew right away that they’d be good for each other?”
I grin, nodding. “With those two? Absolutely. Or at least I knew they had incredibly hot chemistry.”
“And that translates to love?”
“I think you could argue that true love needs true chemistry.”
“Now you’re philosophizing, Maeve.”
“It needs more than that, obviously,” I say. “You need trust and commitment and honesty. But to get off the ground, maybe, love needs chemistry. You need to be with someone who gets you.”
“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience,” Sam says thoughtfully.
The conversation is dancing too close to the topic of romantic history, and I’m not inclined to dive into my past heartbreak. Not with Sam.
So I answer, “Only because it feels like everyone I know is falling in love these days.”
“Tell me about it,” Sam says in a beleaguered voice. “I have my friend Tom’s engagement party to go to next weekend. I already know I’m going to have to field tons of ‘Where’s Emily?’ questions from people who don’t know about the divorce.”
