Scratch the Surface - Page 11

“Of that I have no doubt,” I assured him. “It’s best you remain behind.”

“You’re a lifesaver,”

“Every now and then,” I told him, getting up. “I’ll be right back.”

Crossing the floor, I walked out of the restaurant and into the bar, and headed to the cash register. In moments, I was joined by a bartender.

“May I get you a drink, sir?”

“Actually—” I cleared my throat. “—I need to know when the bartender who was working last night will be in today.”

“Oh, that’d be me. I had to be here last night, until one, and then turn around and be back here by noon to cover for a buddy.”

I felt the flutter of excitement in my chest. “I have a friend who was very drunk last night, and was carried out of here by a man who quite kindly helped him up to his room. My friend wanted to thank the man and––”

“Ah,” the bartender groaned. “You mean Tim’s ex.”

Jesus. I myself had been told the story of Doug’s ex on the way from the airport to the hotel, and had felt that it was a lot of sharing so soon after meeting me. I’d been even more surprised when he’d reiterated the story to our waiter when we had lunch, and our waitress when we had dinner, who had turned to me, I was certain, to save her. I needed to talk to Doug about letting Tim go or, if he couldn’t do that, perhaps sharing the story with everyone he met could at least be curtailed. “Yes, that’s him.”

“Well, I can tell you if that guy had walked up to me and asked what I was drinking, I would not have wasted time talking about my ex.”

“Is that right?” I queried, trying to quash down the sudden and surprising annoyance in my voice. Hopefully, I was successful.

He nodded. “Yeah, that was a very handsome man.”

I coughed softly. “And had you seen him before?”

“No,” he assured me. “And believe me, I would’ve remembered.”

I had no doubt he would have. My guy—the guy—was the type I bet people followed everywhere. There was an ease about him and effortless charm, and that was without considering the width of his shoulders, how long and muscular his legs were, or his dark, dusky lips. Delectable was a word that applied.

“He didn’t run a tab or anything?”

“No, I’m sorry. I would have liked to get his name myself, but he only used cash. He’s probably a guest here. Your buddy can always camp out in the lobby.”

I nodded. “Thank you. I’ll mention it to him.”

“Maybe next time your friend should stow the sad-ass story about his ex and look at what’s right in front of him.”

“Agreed.” I offered him a twenty, which he shook his head over.

“Not necessary. If you want to leave me your number, I can give it to him if he comes in before I clock out.”

I thanked him profusely and took him up on his offer.

Heading to the lobby, I stopped at the front desk and left a note for both the evening clerk and concierge. Hopefully one of them remembered my guy. The guy, I corrected myself. Christ.

Returning to Doug, I found my tomato soup and half a grilled cheese where I’d left it, much colder, I was sure, but not caring in the least.

“You know, I should come back down to the bar tonight while you’re gone and see if my guy appears so I can thank him.”

“Yes,” I said, pouncing on that idea instead of correcting him over his use of the word “my” when discussing the stranger. He was certainly more mine than Doug’s. He’d been in my bed, after all. I would freely admit, if asked, that I was a bit too possessive over a man without a name. “And if you find him, get his name and number so I can talk to him too. I want to thank him again as well.”

Doug nodded. “I will, buddy. You’re saving my life, it’s the least I can do.”

He had no idea he was, perhaps, the one saving mine.

3

Jeremiah

I parked behind the restaurant in my regular spot, killing the motor before I swung my leg over my twelve-year-old Suzuki SV650 and stood up. Pulling off my helmet, I was startled to find Mackenzie Lincoln, one of the servers, had rushed over to me and was wringing her hands. The back door was open, and standing in the doorway, hovering, was Oz Jenson, one of the three cooks, and Star Reynolds, another server.

“Hi,” I greeted them.

“Ohmygod, I thought you were never gonna get here,” Mac whimpered, biting her bottom lip, her face scrunched up.

“What, were you just waiting at the door?” I asked her, squinting. “That’s creepy.”

“Just…hurry.”

I looked over at Star because she was older, a lifer, and always calm and steady. I’d never seen her lose her cool.

Tags: Mary Calmes Romance
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