vous.
She liked him.
Wyatt was used to that. Women always liked the attractive bartender, especially after a couple of drinks. That was why he was here. That was why he picked this job out of all the possible things in the world he could do.
It was easy to pick up women here. And he was going to pick her up tonight.
He leaned forward over the bar, whispering in her ear.“I make the best screaming orgasms.”
She shivered as his words tickled the small hairs on her neck. A nervous giggle escaped her mouth, and she quickly downed most of the drink. He raised his eyebrows.
“Slow down there, slugger,” he advised. “I'm here all night.”
“Then I'd like another,” she replied. Her words slurred together slightly, but her eyes were still focused. She was tipsy, but not drunk.
So he made her another.
“What brings you to the Caribbean?” Wyatt asked, setting down the drink in front of her.
“One of my best friends is getting married,” she replied. “He's a great guy. I think they'll be really happy together. Although, If they have kids, I hope they get her hair and not his. He's balding. Bad.”
Maybe she was a little more tipsy than he thought.
“How long are you here?” He picked up a cloth and began wiping down glasses. He did it because it was his job, but it also kept his hands busy, which helped keep the temptation to slide those dress straps off her shoulders away.
“Just a week. I couldn't take more time off work.” She shrugged and took a sip of her drink. It was a smaller sip this time.
“And what do you do? Model?”
“No.” She laughed and shook her head. “I manage a hotel. Well, I'm one of the managers. The head manager. I'm important.”
“I could have told you that.” He loved the smile she gave him at the compliment, but she was definitely heading towards drunk rather than tipsy. How much had she had to drink before sitting down at the bar?
“What's your name?” she asked him.
He pointed to the name tag on his chest. “Wyatt.”
Her smile warmed, her eyes drawing him to her. “That's a nice name.”
“Thanks. What's your name?”
“Cassidy. But everyone calls me Cassie.” She shrugged. “I actually like being Cassie better than Cassidy. Cassidy sounds like I'm a cowboy. Like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.” She looked up at him with big eyes. “You probably get that a lot too. Not the butch part. Just the cowboy part.”
“If I had a dollar for every time someone said, 'like the cowboy,' I'd be a millionaire.”
Not that he needed the money. He was technically a millionaire already. One thousand times a millionaire. This job was just for fun. It was a way to meet women and give himself the life he'd always wanted. She didn't need to know that though. None of the women he brought back with him did.
He was just the sexy bartender fling they told their friends about without knowing who he really was.
“Well, we can be friends then,” she told him. “Just don't bring anyone named Sundance or Tonto next time you work, and we'll be fine.”
He chuckled. She was cute and funny. His own personal brand of kryptonite.
Unfortunately, new customers arrived, taking their seats at the other end of his bar. He wished they would have picked another bar for their drinks as he was enjoying talking to her. She was tipsy, but still in control. If anything, the liquor was giving her the courage to flirt with him. From the way she gripped her drink and the flush in her cheeks, she wasn't used to flirting like this.
“I'll be right back,” he said.
“I'll be here.” She took another sip of her drink and bit her bottom lip in a nervous smile.