Megan had tried fixing her up with one of her regular customers from the bakery this week. She’d turned her down, saying she was too busy with finals. It was unusual for her to turn down a date. But she really had been busy.
Or maybe she was still riding that high from last weekend with Bash.
Still not happening again.
Lou was curled up in her crate at the far end of the bar, sound asleep. Something about that dog just got to her. Maybe because she was so tiny and Bash was so … big. Lou didn’t seem like the type of dog Bash would have. She’d always pictured him with a Great Dane or a German shepherd, or even a golden retriever. Yet he’d taken to Lou right away, as if he and Lou belonged together. The two of them just seemed right for each other, even though on paper they just didn’t fit.
Kind of like …
No. Not the same thing at all.
Bash turned, saw her, and smiled, then headed her way, his big body stretched out as he leaned across the bar.
She instinctively wanted to reach out and run her hands over his forearms, to feel that hard muscle she knew was there.
She resisted the urge.
“Hey, there,” he said. “What brings you here so late?”
“I was over at Emma’s tonight with all the girls, and I didn’t feel like going home so I thought I’d stop in here for a nightcap.”
“I’m glad you did. What can I get for you?”
She thought about it for a few seconds. “How about you fix something for me?”
“Something to keep you awake, or something to settle you down so you can go home and get some sleep?”
“Hmmm.” She tapped her fingers on the bar. “I’ll let you decide that one, too.”
She was playing with him, flirting with him. She shouldn’t be, but he gave her that sexy, teasing smile she found irresistible. So, why not?
“Okay. I’ll be right back.”
He wandered off and she flipped around on the barstool to survey the room. Music was on, and sports recaps were displayed on the televisions. Men and women were playing at all the pool tables. Business was good for Bash. Chelsea was happy he was doing so well.
“Here you go,” he said, setting a blue concoction down in front of her. It was in a margarita glass, so she assumed it had tequila in it.
She took a sip, licking the salt. It was rich and delicious, and not too sweet.
“I taste Chambord in there.”
“Yeah. And some of my best tequila.”
She felt the kick sliding down into her belly, but it was a smooth roar. “Whoa. You’re right about that. It’s yummy. Thanks.”
She made it a point to drink the wickedly tasty cocktail slowly, because she could tell after she’d taken a couple swallows it packed quite a punch. Deceptively pretty little sucker.
She asked Bash for some water and took sips of that in between. She still had to drive home, and the liquor content in this was high.
She also had to fend off a couple guys who decided the suddenly vacant seat next to her was an invitation. One asked her if she was looking for a date. She politely declined, and when he continued to talk to her, motioned with her head toward Bash and said he was her boyfriend and she was waiting for him. That, at least, got rid of him. The second guy slid onto the barstool not too long after guy number one left. Based on his slurring speech, he appeared to be on about his tenth beer, and he was a leaner. He kept brushing her shoulder, obviously thought he was the funniest guy on the planet, and loved talking about himself.
Twenty minutes into their conversation he still hadn’t asked Chelsea’s name. But she knew all about his job, his friends, and his last two ex-girlfriends. Chelsea knew exactly why they were ex-girlfriends, too.
Bash kept looking her way, and she knew he would have gotten rid of the guy for her, but she had this one handled. He might be annoying, but he was pretty harmless.
“So, how about it,” the guy finally asked. “Wanna get out of here and go someplace more … private?”
She tried not to laugh at the invitation. Instead, she pivoted on the barstool to face him. “What’s my name?”
The guy frowned. “Huh?”
“What’s my name?”
He blinked. “Uh … I dunno. Why don’t you tell me?”
“I don’t think so. And no, I’m not going anywhere with you, so you should stop wasting your time with me.”
At least he was laid-back about it. He shrugged, mumbled something unintelligible, then slid off the barstool and wandered off. Chelsea shook her head and took a drink of water.
“Sorry about that,” Bash said, coming over to replace her glass with a fresh one filled with ice.
“It’s not your fault. Besides, I get hit on by men like him a lot. It’s what you sign up for if you’re going to sit in the bar by yourself late at night.”
“Then I apologize on behalf of my gender.”
She laughed. “Apology accepted.”
After that, whenever any guy sat down next to her, Bash gave the guy a look that made it very clear she wasn’t to be bothered. It was amusing to her that with one glare, he’d made her off-limits to the rest of the men in the bar.
Not that she had any complaints about that. She was tired of fending off men who thought a single woman in a bar was fair game. It was nice to have someone like Bash to run interference for her.
She ended up hanging out with him until closing. She had a soda and a couple of waters, and she took Lou out back for a walk. Which reminded her of a question she wanted to ask Bash. She brought the dog back inside, then wandered over toward the back of the bar, where he was putting bottles back in order.