A smile plays on her lips. “Isn’t that bribery?”
“Damn right it is, but it works like a fucking charm.”
Her hand dives into her purse to retrieve her phone. She types something on the screen. “I’m making a note of that. It could come in handy.”
“I’ve got a hundred more tips like that.” I glance to the left as Jurgen steers the car next to the curb. “Are you in the mood for a drink?”
Her gaze volleys between the car and my face. “One drink won’t hurt.”
Famous last words.
Chapter Nineteen
Callie
I do a quick scan of the bar we just entered.
That’s a habit born from working part-time at my favorite bar in this city.
I didn’t catch the name of this place when Jurgen pulled the car up to the curb in front of it, but it’s even more of a hole-in-the-wall type establishment than Tin Anchor is.
Peanuts overflow from a bowl set atop the wooden bar. An older man wearing glasses is behind it, with a bar towel in his hand.
He gazes in our direction as Sean motions for me to take a spot on a wooden stool next to the bar. I shimmy onto it, being mindful of the front slit in the skirt of my dress.
Sean follows my movements with his gaze while taking a seat next to me.
“Sean!” The bartender approaches us. “I haven’t seen you in weeks. How are you?”
“Good,” Sean responds. “I’m good, Rolly.”
Rolly tips his chin up to peer down his nose at me. “Who do we have here?”
“This is Champ,” Sean makes the introduction. “I’ll have whatever she’s having.”
That sends my gaze in his direction. I quiz him silently with a lift of my left eyebrow.
“I trust you.” He chuckles. “Make me proud.”
I tug on my right earring as I consider the possibilities. I’m reasonably sure that he’d order a glass of scotch if he came in here alone, but there’s something to be said for expanding your alcoholic repertoire.
“We’ll have two Tom Collins,” I tell the bartender.
“Coming right up,” Rolly says before he steps away from us.
Sean glances in my direction. “I can’t say I’ve ever tasted a Tom before.”
My eyes meet his. “I have.”
He’s quick to respond. “Don’t tell me your ex was named Tom. That’s one part of the relationship I don’t want to hear about.”
That suggests that there are parts of the relationship he does want to hear about. I have no interest in discussing my ex with him.
I pluck the scattered peanuts off the bar and pile them onto a small napkin in front of me. “You lured me here with the promise of insider information on my boss.”
His gaze travels over my face. “That I did.”
Pushing the napkin and peanuts to the side, I smile. “Give it to me. I promise I won’t use that information for any nefarious purposes.”
“You shouldn’t make promises like that before you know the level of dirt I’m about to dish out.”
I laugh softly. “Something tells me that you won’t be selling Delora out tonight. There is no dirt, is there?”
He holds both hands up as though he’s surrendering to me. “No dirt, but I can tell you how to handle her in a way that will make you her star employee.”
We’re interrupted when Rolly arrives with our drinks. I thank him with an added smile because I know how it feels when a person doesn’t acknowledge the crafter of their beverage.
He thanks me for thanking him before he wanders off toward a man who just sat down at the opposite end of the bar.
Sean picks up the glass in front of him and takes a small sip. His eyes close. I can’t tell if that’s from disgust or delight.
“Not bad,” he murmurs. “This isn’t half bad.”
I clear my throat. “Maybe I don’t want to know how to handle Delora. Maybe I want to prove myself based solely on my merit.”
Sean swallows his second taste of his Tom Collins. “Maybe I’m impressed by that.”
Pride blooms inside of me from that admission, although I don’t know why. Is it because he’s my boss, or because he’s not only gorgeous, he’s fun and successful?
“Are you a scotch convert?” I ask as he raises the glass to his mouth again.
It stalls there, pressed against his bottom lip.
I tear my gaze away because staring at his mouth isn’t what I should be doing.
“Too soon to tell.” He laughs. “We’ll need to meet again to continue this experiment.”
Is he asking me out on a date?
I play dumb, hoping to lure more details of his intentions from him. “What experiment?”
His index finger rims his glass. “I like this, but I have a feeling that you make it better. If you’re still holding onto that job at Tin Anchor, let me know when your next shift is, and I’ll drop by to taste your Tom.”