“Easy there, darlin,’” he chuckled, holding his hands up in defense. “Just making friendly chit-chat. And yes, actually, I do come ‘round here often. This happens to be my family’s place.”
I eyed Craig disapprovingly. With his wavy, chin-length brown hair, light brown eyes, and the bit of scruff on his chin, he wasn’t exactly bad to look at. He was actually pretty cute in that young southern gentleman kinda way, but I was too far gone on the self-depreciation train to even fall for his charm.
“So what? That gives you a right to harass all the paying patrons?” I replied with a raised brow before downing the last of my drink. It was strong, but not strong enough to stow my bitchiness.
“You are an exotic little thing, aren’t ya? Yes, in-deed,” Craig appraised, ignoring my jab. He finished his beer just as our empty glasses were quickly swiped from the bar. “Let me guess-you’re one of those moo-lot-toe girls.”
I nearly choked, and probably would have spit my drink right in his face just for shits and giggles if I’d had a mouthful. “Excuse me? Are you trying to say mulatto?”
“Yeah! That chocolate and vanilla swirl! I’m right, aren’t I?”
Wow. Craig was a bigger asshat than I initially assumed. I had played this game with guys before. The whole, “What are you? Let me guess . . .” bit was not new to me. Usually I shut it down, but since I had nothing else better to do than stew about my predicament, I thought I‘d humor Craig and eventually make a fool of him. I didn’t think it would take long anyway.
“No, I’m not moo-lot-toe, jackass. Chocolate and vanilla? Do I look like an ice cream cone to you?” I snickered. Craig’s eyes widened with glee at my choice of words, instantly making me regret them. Thankfully, the bartender returned with our drinks, so I could get back to the task at hand: getting stupid drunk.
I looked up to say thank you and was met with a hooded pair of chocolate brown eyes and a boyish grin. His hair was covered in a worn baseball cap, and he had just the right amount of scruff on his chin and upper lip to give his baby face an edge. His hands and arms were covered with intricate, colorful tattoos. He was different from what usually attracted me and absolutely beautiful. So beautiful, in fact, that I had to tear my eyes away before I used Jedi mind tricks to undress him. I wanted to see what else those tattoos covered. Badly.
“CJ, I hope you’re not botherin’ this young lady,” the younger, much more enticing bartender smiled, his deep voice laced with a touch of southern drawl. His large hand (yeah, I noticed) clapped Craig on the back as he shook his head, a lock of brown hair escaping his cap and falling into his eyes. His gaze came back to me, and he winked.
Under normal circumstances, the move would have probably made me blush, and/or flash a flirty smile, but my mind and heart were still heavy with grief. I returned the sentiment with a nod and a nervous half-grin. Sure, he was attractive, painfully so, but that thought would be all I could allow myself to enjoy.
“Aw, you know me, Blaine. Always makin’ friends,” Craig snickered before taking a sip of his fresh beer.
Blaine.
Even his name was sexy as hell, and I resisted the urge to try it out on my tongue. He placed his palms against the bar, and leaned in, looking at me expectantly. Shit, I really didn’t want the attention. But he looked at me intently, his head cocked to one side, with his mouth curled up, and I couldn’t think of anything witty or even rude to say to make the guys go away.
It made me nervous. Like, really nervous. So I tore my eyes away from his and nodded towards a HELP WANTED sign propped up on a high shelf. “You guys hiring?”
Blaine turned and looked at the sign before bringing those brown eyes back to me. “Yeah. Waitresses, line cooks. A bartender. Looking for work?”
“Maybe,” I shrugged before taking a sip of my drink while I surveyed the room. It was a good-sized place, and it was centrally located. But, it was virtually empty aside from a few bar patrons. “Did this place just open or something?”
“Nah,” he responded with a little shake of his head. The lock of hair fell farther into his line of vision, and much to my dismay, he swept it to the side, tucking it back into his cap. “Just got new management.”
Craig snorted and rolled his eyes before taking a chug of his beer. He turned his attention back to me and waggled his eyebrows. “So darlin,’ where were we? Oh right . . . how about Puerto Rican? Mexican? I have to be close. Did I get it right? Or are you just gonna keep me guessing all day?”