The Hot New Bartender in Town (Welcome to Kiss County #3)

Chapter 2

2

TISH

S hortly after my stunning show-stopper, the other girls begin to subtly check the time. Stifling a yawn, Mika stands up first, insisting she has to get up early tomorrow to help her father at Two Hearts Inn, her family’s business. But I can read the truth written all over her face: she misses Carter.

Even Lottie’s expression brightens with the thought that she’ll soon be back at home, curled up in Scott’s arms, their children fast asleep down the hallway.

At least Brenda is single. But she’s also opening at Bruno’s tomorrow morning, so when she finally rises to take her leave, I don’t stop her.

“You sure?” she asks, adjusting her handbag by her hip. “You won’t be too lonely?”

I glance toward the bar and smile. “Nope.”

She follows my gaze with a laugh, and then sighs. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” I say, giving her a wave.

Not wanting to linger too long at the empty table, I stand up and make my way toward the bar. It’s a far easier task now than it was an hour ago, the night growing darker and darker. Small Town stays open late during the summer, our prime tourist season, but this being the last weekend of summer means the locals are growing tired. Most just want the whole thing to be over and done with.

Myself, however...

I get the feeling my summer fun has only just begun.

Zeroing in on the hot new bartender like a hawk, I perch myself on an empty bar stool not two feet away from him. I check my reflection in every mirrored surface around me, making sure my auburn hair hasn’t developed a mind all her own. Satisfied, I sit and wait for him to finish his task and take notice.

It doesn’t take long.

He looks up from his business at the cash register, his hands still counting a stack of dollar bills as he says, “Hi.”

“Hello.”

“I’ll be right with you.”

I smile in response, letting him get back to his counting. Once finished, he pushes the drawer closed and sidles a step to his left, planting himself in front of me, the bar counter the only border between us.

“You’re new in town,” I say. “What’s your name?”

“Riley,” he answers.

“Riley what?”

“Ripley.”

“Cool name. It’s nice to meet you, Riley Ripley.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too.”

“Aren’t you going to ask me my name?”

“I know your name,” he says. “It’s Tish. Tish Travis.”

“How’d you know that?”

“Jake announced it earlier.”

“Oh. Right.” I keep my shoulders from sinking too far. “That makes sense.”

Riley leans forward, gently placing his elbows on the bar as he looks me over the same way he did before. This time, however, I’m close enough to see the finer details of his features in the light, from the specks of green in his blue eyes to the line of soft freckles dashed along his upper cheeks.

“You have a nice voice, Tish,” he says.

I smile, never tired of hearing that. “Thank you.”

“Where’d you learn to sing like that?”

“People learn to sing?”

“Typically, yes.”

“Oh, well, I just do it,” I say. “Songs got notes, and so do I.”

“Rare talent,” he says.

“I guess. Do you sing?”

“A little.”

“Sing something for me.”

Riley tilts back. “No.”

“Why not?” I say, leaning forward over the bar. “I sang for you.”

“You sang for everyone,” he argues playfully.

I point over my shoulder toward the stage. “Night’s still young. Fire up the mic and show me what you got.”

“Think I’ll pass, actually.”

“Why?” I say, keeping my teases light. “Are you shy?”

Riley takes it well, his handsome eyes still playing with mine. “I’ll tell you what,” he says, dodging the question. “Come back to my place with me, and I’ll sing something just for you.”

I arch a brow, interested. “Wow, you jumped right for it, didn’t you?” I ask.

He chuckles, his smile warm enough to melt chocolate. “It’s Kiss County. I figure if I don’t, someone else will.”

“That’s probably true,” I say. “Some are a bit more subtle about it, though.”

“Not my strong suit.”

“Nor mine.” I press my smiling lips together. “How long have you been in town?”

“Two days, give or take.”

“What brought you here?” I ask.

“To piss off my dad, mostly. And curiosity,” he answers, leaning his side against the bar as he speaks. “I grew up just north of here. Thought Small Town would be a nice change of pace.”

“You from Big City?”

“Close. Pleasant Place.”

I grimace. He laughs.

“I know, I know,” he says. “Suburban hellscape. But it was fine.”

“Why would moving to Small Town piss off your dad? Since you brought it up,” I add, in case the question is too personal.

“He wants me to finish school,” he answers. “I dropped out and moved down here instead.”

“What school?”

“Big City Tech. Dad’s a software engineer or... something,” he says, scoffing. “Hell, who knows what he does? I sure don’t, nor do I care to learn it.”

“You’d rather be a bartender in Small Town?” I ask.

He leans over again, his arm brushing against mine. “I’d rather live life on my terms,” he answers. “At the moment, that includes being a bartender in Small Town, yes.”

I nod, understanding. “I get it.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m not exactly ambitious, either.”

“What do you do?” he asks. “You going to school?”

“School? Hell, no. I’m a waitress and I sing karaoke on weekends while I wait to be discovered.”

“Discovered?”

“It’s inevitable,” I say, grinning. “Or I like to think it is. I like to fantasize about there being some fancy talent scout in the crowd one night. They’ll hear me sing and they’ll take me up to Big City, where I’ll perform on stage at the Cupid’s Corner Bar.”

“That’s a good bar,” he says.

“It’s the best bar,” I say. “It’s where everyone makes it big. And when I finally get there, I’ll become rich and famous and I’ll take my mother away from Small Town and we’ll live in luxury for the rest of our days.”

Riley nods along. “Sounds nice.”

“It does. You still want to sing me a song?”

He smirks, a touch of blush grazing his cheeks. “I’m off in ten minutes,” he says. “If you still want to hear it.”

“I do.”

“Then, I’ll go finish counting down my drawer,” he says, stepping back, “and I’ll meet you here in ten.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

With that, Riley re-opens the cash register. He slides the drawer out and turns, his eyes on me the entire time as he steps into the back with it.

Once he’s gone, I kick my toes against the leg of my stool and squeal a little.

This night just keeps getting better and better.

Ten minutes pass before Riley steps out of the back again, this time with Jake by his side. Jake gives me the slightest of nods and runs a tired hand through his shaggy black hair. I sit back, not wanting to interrupt whatever instruction he’s leaving Riley with.

After a minute, Jake glances over again. “Have a good night, Tish,” he says.

“You, too, Jake,” I say. “See you next weekend.”

He voices a grunt and walks into the back again, leaving Riley and me alone.

“I can never tell if his grunts mean something good or something bad,” he says.

“Good, usually,” I answer. “You get used to it.”

“Ready to go?”

“Yes, please.”

“Follow me.”

Riley steps out from behind the bar and gestures toward the hallway. I pause, having expected the front entrance, but I’m too interested to back out at this point. I follow Riley into the hallway and together we pass the restrooms on either side, walking straight toward the back alleyway exit.

The alley is dirty, as expected, and narrow. It’d be just wide enough to drive a full truck through if there weren’t two dumpsters stacked side-by-side along the length of it.

“You parked back here?” I ask.

Riley answers with a mere chuckle before turning left and walking directly down the concrete stairs connected to the pub.

I don’t follow, eying it at first with a wrinkled nose as I watch Riley descend toward a door, his fingers fiddling with a set of keys.

“What’s this?” I ask, not interested in getting murdered tonight.

“It’s my place,” Riley answers.

With the door now unlocked, he walks inside, leaving it open for me to follow.

Okay.

I’m really curious now.