Malcolm, who had the patience of a saint and always took things in stride, just nodded. “I’ll get out the steaks.”
She laughed, shook her head, and went back to the bar. She refilled a few drinks and decided to let her waitresses handle the players. She’d go over there and say hello when she had a free minute. Right now she was slammed filling drink orders. Something about players coming in hopped up her customers’ excitement level and made everyone thirsty.
It was good for business, though. She loved having the players frequent Riley’s. She had Mick and Gavin—and Elizabeth—to thank for that.
“You look busy.”
She lifted her head and stared into the steel gray eyes of Tyler Anderson. He wore his raven hair a little long and shaggy, just the way she liked…
No. She did not like this guy. He was a jock, a hockey player, and she most definitely did not like sports players. Especially not Ty.
“Yeah, Ty. I’m a little busy here. What can I do for you?”
“Thought you could use some help. Why don’t you have two bartenders?”
“Because I can handle it by myself. Is Lydia taking care of your table?”
“She is. We’re fine. Steaks are ordered.”
She planted her palms against the side of the bar, sucking in a quick breath. “Then what do you need?”
He came around the open end of the bar. “Nothing. I came here to help you.”
Her eyes widened. “What? Get out of here. You can’t be back here.”
“Sure I can. You need help.”
“No, I don’t.” She shoved at him, but she might as well try to move a car. “Go away.”
The crowd thickened around the bar as soon as Ty made himself at home back there. He filled drink orders while Jenna stared dumbfounded. He popped the tops off bottles of beer like a pro, poured hard liquor, fixed mixed drinks, and operated like he knew what the hell he was doing behind a bar. He then took the customer’s money or credit card and handled her cash register, too.
What. The. Hell.
He slid a glance her way. “You have customers at the other end of the bar.”
She finally gave up and took care of her patrons while Ty drummed up more business.
“Hey, Ty, your steak is ready,” Malcolm said a half hour later.
“Just leave it behind the bar. I’ll eat it here.”
“You got it.”
Jenna rolled her eyes and watched as Ty ate his steak standing up while he visited with the guys at the bar, then went back to serving drinks.
By two thirty she called for last round and everyone began to make their way out the door. Jenna started cleaning up while the last of her patrons left. She called taxis for those who needed them, helped the waitresses bus tables, and cleared her bar registers.
She let the waitresses go, locked the front door, and headed into the kitchen. The kitchen had been cleaned up, the other cooks and the busboys had left, and only Malcolm remained—with Ty—the two of them talking about football.
“What are you still doing here?” she asked, looking at Ty.
“Sorry. Got involved talking postseason with Malcolm.”
“Who is now leaving,” Malcolm said with a yawn. “Want me to walk you out, Jenna?”
“No, thanks. I’ve got a few things left to do.”
Malcolm narrowed his dark brown eyes on her. “Go home. Don’t stay here all night doing paperwork.”
She laughed. “I don’t intend to.”
She locked the door behind him, then turned to tell Tyler to go, but he wasn’t in the kitchen. She found him in the bar pouring a whiskey.
“Hey. Last call was an hour ago.”
He smiled at her, tipped the glass to his lips, and downed the drink in one swallow, then put money on the top of the bar. She grabbed the money and slipped it into her pocket.
“Pocketing the profits, I see.”
“No, smart-ass. I already closed out the register. I’ll add it in tomorrow.”
He shook his head and leaned against the bar. “This is how you talk to your customers?”
“You stopped being a customer when you came behind my bar and served up drinks.”
“You needed help.”
“No, I didn’t.”
He folded his arms. “Are you always this bitchy, or just to me?”
“Just to you. Now get your ass out of here so I can finish closing up.”
He didn’t seem insulted, just cracked a smile instead, showing off perfectly straight white teeth. Weren’t hockey players supposed to be missing teeth because of all their fights on the ice? Why did he have to be so gorgeous? The damn man made her panties wet and had a habit of showing up here fairly regularly, which did make her bitchy because he hit all her hot buttons and she hadn’t had sex in a really long time.
She needed to get laid soon. Real soon. By someone who didn’t play sports.
She hit the master light switch, bathing the bar in darkness.
“Scared of the dark?”