by M. E. Carter
I’m surprised to see the bartender is a woman about my age, although I’m not sure why I’m surprised. Maybe I’ve been in the corporate world long enough, I forgot other people still work to live instead of vice versa.
Making my way to the counter, I slide onto the stool, noticing how much more comfortable the seat is than I anticipated.
Wow. This is such a fancy place. I wonder why the outside is so dingy and non-descript. Seems like they could get a lot more business if they gave the outside a fresh coat of paint and made the sign easier to read.
I don’t notice the bartender, too busy taking in the environment, until she’s standing right in front of me.
“Welcome to Frui Vita. What can I get you?” I’m struck by how beautiful she is with her long dark hair and lean body. Even the act of tossing a napkin down in front of me seems somehow graceful when she does it. I’m suddenly feeling very intimidated and unsure of myself.
“Um… I think I’d like… uh…” I stumble over my words as I try to remember what, if any kind of alcohol I’ve tried and liked before. I appreciate she just stands there patiently while I try to decide. “Whiskey, straight up,” I finally say.
This elicits an eyebrow raise from her making me second guess myself.
“That’s not the right answer, is it?” I ask quietly.
She smiles kindly at my complete ineptness when it comes to alcohol consumption. “There’s not really a right or wrong answer but… well… can I ask you a question?”
I nod vigorously.
“You don’t drink very often do you?”
My nod turns into a shake.
“And I’m guessing from looking at you, today’s been a really hard day and you’re just trying to take the edge off.”
I release a deep breath, my shoulders slumping. “Is it that obvious?”
“Only because we’ve all been there. Driving around in the rain so you don’t have to go home. Finally ending up in some random bar ready to drink your night away.”
I feel my eyes widen. “Really? I’m not the only one?”
She bobbles her head back and forth. “Plus, you’ve got the splotchy eyes. I hate getting those things.”
My hands cover my face, not that they can wipe away the red splotches I didn’t realize were there. “Oh my gosh, I didn’t know I looked that bad.”
“You don’t. I promise. I’m just a woman, too. We can see these things in each other.” She leans on the counter, fingers clasped together. “And let me just say, woman to woman, whoever he is, he didn’t deserve you.”
I feel my eyes well with tears again, not out of sadness, but grateful for her kindness. “Thank you. I haven’t quite decided how I feel yet.”
“You will. In the meantime,” she pushes off the bar and reaches for a glass. “I’m going to make you an amaretto sour, light on the amaretto. I know you want to drink your cares away, but I think taking the edge off is probably more your style.”
Oddly, I feel some relief that she’s not encouraging me to do anything rash like taking shots or do a keg stand or something. Physically, I could do it, that wouldn’t be a problem. But I still have to work tomorrow morning. I don’t need to smell like stale booze when I walk by Mrs. Welch in the hallway. As it is, I’m not even positive I still have a job now that Kevin and I aren’t together. This is the curse of working for your boyfriend – er, ex-boyfriend’s mother.
The bartender, whose name I should probably ask at some point, places a small glass of yellowish-orange liquid in front of me. I like that it has a small orange slice attached to the rim. It’s a funny thing to appreciate, but right now, it seems like the little things are more important than ever.
Taking a sip through the tiny straw, my mouth is flooded with flavor. “Mmm,” I remark and take another sip.
“Hits the spot, right?” she asks with a smile, although I’m not sure if she’s pleased with herself for having guessed correctly or if she’s genuinely happy she put a smile on my face.
“It really does. Thank you.”
“No problem. If you need anything else, just holler.”
She leaves me to my thoughts that I try to keep solidly out of the breakup zone and fully engaged in observing the people around me. Not only are all the men huge, everyone looks like they have money. I don’t mean the decent amount I get paid as an accountant, but lots of money. Like in the millions.
My gaze zeros in on one man in particular. He’s at least six-four. The grey tailored suit he’s wearing shows off his broad shoulders and tapered waist. His hair is cropped close to his head and dark scruff covers his face. A face that has scars and a large bruise on one cheek.
He is both terrifying and sexy as all get out.
And he’s walking right toward me.
Matter of Fact
Coming November 2021
Preorder it here!
Acknowledgments
The last couple of years have been rough on everyone. For those of us already working from home in a job they love, you would think the shift of life would be no big deal. Unfortunately, we weren’t immune from the massive life changes as well.
For those of you who kept my spirits up and motivated me to keep going, I thank you. This book wouldn’t have been written without you.
For those of you who had a hand in this book’s development and publishing, I am forever grateful.