“Just thought if you were sitting with that empty shot glass for another ten minutes it was going to stay that way,” he said. “Not—not that there’s anything wrong with that.”
He was bashful now, and for some reason, that was ridiculously adorable.
“I was just distracted by something else I wanted behind the bar,” I said.
Whoa.
Bold.
I definitely, undeniably was flirting with a guy, now.
Perry looked around him, as if he was searching for some woman I could have been talking about. But the only other people behind the bar were another young bartender named Sam, and my brother, and I certainly wasn’t talking about either of them.
“Perry, we got another round of sliders for the group at table ten?” Red asked from over his shoulder.
Perry looked away from me, nodding at Red. “I’m on it,” he said, disappearing back into his kitchen.
I missed him already.
Perry looked like some sort of powerful, greying wolf, but behind his shell, he was flustered, shy, and super fucking adorable. I could tell that still waters ran deep with him. I desperately wanted to know what made him tick.
And I had liked it when he was checking me out. A lot.
He’d left the shot glass and bottle of tequila on the bar in front of me. I reached for it and took a shot, and then another, glancing around the bar. There were plenty of candidates all around, women who I typically would have pursued.
But as the liquor hit me, I found myself glancing at the closed kitchen door over and over again, wondering about Perry. Cockblocked by my own curiosity, all about a bashful gay man.
“Howdy,” a voice said from behind me, and I swiveled on my stool to see a young woman eyeing me.
“Howdy, yourself,” I said.
“I’m Isobel,” she said, holding out her hand. “Red told me his baby brother looked like he needed some company, and I’ve got a half hour to kill.”
I shook her hand. Her nails were painted as dark and shiny as her jet black hair. She was a little bit gothic, immediately charming, and absolutely someone I usually would want to run to bed with as fast as humanly possible.
“Hate it when Red spreads rumors about me,” I said, smiling.
“Well, at least one of the rumors I heard about you is true,” she said, sitting on the stool next to me, her knees knocking up against mine.
“What’s that?”
“That you’re like Red, but straight, and even sexier,” she purred, reaching for the bottle of tequila. She poured some into the glass I’d been using and downed the shot neatly.
“I don’t feel so sexy in this thing,” I said, nodding down at the ankle boot.
“What happened that made you need that, anyway?” she asked.
I shook my head. “Rather not talk about it,” I said.
“You’re the one who pointed it out.”
I grimaced. She had me there.
“Ooh, something bad happened?” she asked.
My lips tightened. “No. Nothing interesting at all, actually.”
She nodded, looking me up and down. “Okay. I’m with you. Let’s skip the small talk, then. Come with me to the women’s restroom.”
I glanced up at her, half convinced she was joking. “You move fast, huh?”
“Sometimes moving fast feels really, really good,” she said.
I let out a long breath, my eyes wandering over toward the small window in the kitchen door. I could just see the outline of Perry’s profile, and I swore I saw him tossing back another shot.
I knew danger when I saw it.
And I also knew loneliness when I saw it.
What was going on with him? I barely knew the guy, but I definitely knew he didn’t usually down shots like a garbage disposal. Perry was like a poster-boy for a designated driver, in my imagination. A responsible, stable, reliable guy.
Something was eating at him. And now, that was eating at me. I needed to talk to him.
“Rock? You with me?” Isobel asked, lifting an eyebrow.
My mojo was completely off.
“I’m sorry, Isobel,” I said. “But to be honest, I’m a little bit distracted right now.”
“What’s up?”
“Well, there is a man in a tiny kitchen over there, cooking with fire, and he’s throwing back tequila like it’s water,” I said.
“Oh, Perry?” she said. “Perry’s like a wizard in that kitchen. I wouldn’t worry about him.”
“I’m always worried when I see huge open flammable bottles of liquid next to a dozen ignition sources.”
I wanted to get inside that tiny, cluttered kitchen right now instead of sinking into Isobel in a bathroom stall.
“Well, I have to go back into that kitchen and work with him in twenty-five minutes when my break is over,” she said, giving me another hungry look. “So the clock is ticking on my offer.”
“You’re the prep cook?”
“You bet,” she said.
“Oh, God,” I said, groaning and swiveling away from her a little. “Why haven’t we met this week?”
“I’m usually stuck in the kitchen all night,” she said, shrugging.