The Bar Scene

by Ginny Frost

  With the right manager and staff, Cantelli’s could be a hit. The potential bubbled under the surface of the no-frills pub. But it took months of advertising and word of mouth to get a bar hopping. She didn’t have months, but that wasn’t important right now. The important thing was moving forward.

  ****

  With a tentative business plan in hand, Terese sat at a table, deep in conversation with Eric. She filled him in on her plan to buy Cantelli’s and run it. But neither she nor her possible new business partner, Eric, had the money to purchase the place. A local bank loan would get them over the edge if they convinced the banks to give money to a couple of wanna-be entrepreneurs with no credit. Loan applications from three different banks covered the bar. Terese combed over each, detailing the minutia with Eric.

  He sighed and pushed his seat back. “I dunno, Terese. I appreciate you went to all the trouble to get the info, but I don’t think bar ownership is in our future.” She scowled hard, forcing him to backpedal. “Then maybe not for me. To be honest, the amount of debt for the venture scares the shit out of me.”

  Terese sighed, straightening the paperwork. Eric was her last hope. None of her other friends would even listen to her plan. Reaching over the table and forcing Eric to sign probably wouldn’t work. Even though she wanted to. She nodded to him, silently accepting his refusal, and let him off the hook.

  Lowering her head, she closed her eyes and took a long deep breath, trying to still her wounded heart. Plan B was poised to flop. Biting her lip, she willed the tears back. She wasn’t spending another minute crying over money or what’s-his-name. But failure piling on top of failure was starting to really piss her off.

  Tonight, with the final details ironed out, Eric walked away. Frowning hard, she sniffed and dismissed her sorrow and anger. Another bump in the road. She’d get over it, the same as she got over Drew. Nothing would stop her.

  Or so she kept telling herself.

  Standing, she smoothed her Japanese-styled cheongsam, regretting her choice of the tight dress tonight. She patted the messy bun held together by her black chopsticks—the ones from her first night with Drew. The thought of tossing out the sticks crossed her mind. No. Not these too. She wouldn’t allow him to steal another precious thing from her.

  ****

  Drew took a deep breath. Watching Terese and Eric talking unnerved him a bit. They huddled close and intimate. Did they hook up? If so, too damn bad, bartender.

  Terese belonged with him.

  Tonight, she wore a black dress, skin tight and exotic. She rose from her chair as he strode up, her back to him. A smile played on his lips. He adjusted his tie, smoothed his jacket, and cleared his throat.

  ****

  “You’re beautiful.”

  Terese turned with a gasp. Drew stood beside her. Without another word, he kissed her, the same as the first night—deep, soulful, and heart-stopping. She kissed him for a second, then two. Snapping back to reality, she shoved him away, hard.

  “That’s not going to work,” she chided. “You should know better.” She crossed her arms, her body tense, waiting for an explanation. He stood there.

  Lifting her chin, she appraised him. He wore a well-tailored Hugo Boss suit with a silk tie. His wild blond mane was tamed, cut closer to his head. Wire-rimmed glasses framed his dark eyes.

  Her temperature soared. She wanted to strip the suit off him, here and now. At the same time, she wanted to rip his arm off and beat him with it. So much for being over him.

  “What do you want?” she asked finally.

  He ran a hand over his tie.

  So sexy. Focus, Terese!

  “I’d like to speak with you privately.” His words were stiff, but his expression brimmed with mischief, his eyes darting to her office door.

  Oh, no. She wasn’t falling for his crap. He might be sex on a stick, but she had some integrity, some self-respect. Enough to ignore what his suit did to her insides. She gestured at the table next to them.

  “Have a seat.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Fine. If you don’t mind everyone listening in.” He waved at the patrons.

  She dragged out a chair and sat down. “It’ll be a short conversation, so I’m not worried.” Crossing her legs and her arms, she glowered at him, wanting to smack his handsome face.

  He nodded, sitting down opposite her. “Well…” he began.

  She held up a hand. “Before you say another word, one thing. You have thirty seconds before I boot your ass out of here. Talk fast.” She glanced over her shoulder at Eric who bobbed his head.

  “Okay then,” Drew said. “I’ll be quick and direct. I’m sorry. I should’ve told you my name from the start. I deceived you. You have every right to hate me.”

  “Yes, I do.” His immediate apology intrigued her though. “I’m listening,” she amended, uncrossing and re-crossing her legs.

  “And you’re right. If I’d hired you, it would’ve seemed as if I was giving my girlfriend the advantage.” She raised an eyebrow at the word “girlfriend” but kept her lips closed. He stopped talking. They sat in a silence showdown for a minute.

  Finally, Terese broke the spell. “So?” she asked, annoyed but curious. If he came all the way down here, he must have more to say.

  “So most of the original HR team is back, hiring for the conference center and hotel.”

  “Huh.” She pressed her lips into a flat line.

  “You missed your interview.”

  “No shit, Sherlock. I had a problem with my interviewer.”

  “The HR department at Drake Industries realizes that. It was inappropriate for Andrew Drake to interview you.”

  She rolled her eyes. His MBA was certainly talking now. Was this the real Drew? Not the fun, cute guy she dated for a week, but another stuffed shirt?

  “Therefore,” he continued. “They are offering you the opportunity to interview again.” He folded his hands on the table, looking one hundred percent the executive.

  She examined him, her brow furrowed. “And this is your doing?”

  “In part. I was assisting the HR director when he was short-staffed. Had I known I was scheduled to do your interview, I would’ve ensured another member of the team conducted it.”

  His expression seemed so serene, she wanted to slap him for such a cruel joke. Steam built up in her brain, causing red waves of light to appear in her vision. He was toying with her and doing a great job. Damn him.

  “Jesus Christ, enough!” She stood and loomed over the table. “Enough of the uptight, company man. Talk to me like Drew, Andrew Drake.”

  A wide grin broke out on his face for a second. Then he pressed his trembling lips tight. “I thought you preferred all business, Miss Brock. I’m trying to be accommodating.”

  Terese boiled over. She stormed over to him, grabbed him by the collar of his jacket, and dragged him back to her office. Shoving him in the tiny room, she slammed the door.

  The grin reappeared. “If this is what you wanted, you could’ve made that clear from the start,” he said.

  “You are such a fucking pain in the ass. Who are you? Which guy? This one?” She poked him hard in the chest. “Or the one at the falls? And what is the bullshit about the interview and the job?”

  Drew held his hands up. “Hold on here. One question at a time.” Their eyes met. Those deep, dark orbs melted her. Not wanting to relent, she bit her lip and waited for an answer. He studied her in a prolonged look. Resisting the urge to squirm under his gaze, she cleared her throat and straightened her spine.

  Finally, he tugged at his tie, loosening it. “Two weeks ago, I found myself.” He dipped his head, smiling. “You challenged me, Terese. You forced me to stop being some cardboard cutout. Made me understand I could never be my father, and that’s a good thing. When I asked you out and you rejected me, I had to find a way to win you. I needed to think outside the box, broaden my perspective, pull down the walls I’d put around myself.” He ran a hand through his hair. “You
pushed me and it worked.”

  “You still lied to me. Didn’t tell me who you were.”

  “Would you have still gone out with me the first time if I’d told you? Or for that matter, after I dyed my hair, and I said, ‘Hi, I’m Andy Drake. Go out with me.’” He leaned back against her desk.

  A roll of nausea spread through her stomach. No, she wouldn’t have. She liked the daring frat guy, not the uptight businessman. “I like Drew.” She narrowed her gaze. “How much is Andy and how much is Drew?”

  “I think I’m more Drew. Thanks to you.” His smile was so sweet her teeth ached. She wanted to rush to him, kiss him everywhere, but she held her ground.

  She pursed her lips, knowing the next few words out of her mouth were critical. “The interview held the key to my future. Seeing you there, in a suit…it was like a slap in the face.” She crossed her arms and blinked back the tears that threatened. Jesus, the crying. She was not going to cry in front of him.

  He nodded. “I should’ve known,” he said, his voice low and sweet, his eyes imploring. “You talked about leaving Oakwood Tavern, and I should’ve known you’d go for the conference center. Especially after our tour date. You’re the perfect manager, organizer, event planner. The Center needs you. When my dad assigned me to HR, I should’ve searched for your resume.”

  She lifted one shoulder, not sure if he was apologizing or not, but she liked the sound of his words.

  “Terese, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I forgot about those stupid interviews. I was so damned wrapped up in you, I let work falter. Andy would have found your resume before he ever asked you out.”

  She blinked. Multiple personality disorder much? She shifted her head to the side, arms still crossed. “Explain that one.”

  He laughed and shook his head. “I was determined to get a date after you rejected me…”

  A pang of regret hit and folded her stomach in half. “Tell me this rejection story because I don’t remember tossing you to the curb,” she said softly.

  “You didn’t. I walked up and asked you to dinner. You patted me on the shoulder and said, ‘No thanks, honey. Can I get you a fresh drink?’ I was dismissed, snubbed. I didn’t think.”

  Guilt washed over her. She’d treated him like some drunk. She hung her head. “Drew…”

  “I didn’t consider,” he continued, “that you probably get hit on all the time. A beautiful woman like you, in a bar. I thought I needed to set myself apart, to be completely different from the guy you said no to. So…” He ran his fingers through his hair.

  “Drew, I’m…”

  “Don’t say you’re sorry.” His voice was thick with emotion, and her breath caught in her throat. Maybe he did have more serious feelings for her. His robot act when he first walked in hid his true feelings, but now, alone, he opened his heart. “I messed up and I want to make it up to you.” He pulled a business card from his jacket pocket.

  “Ned Clark. He’s heading up Drake’s HR team right now. I spoke to him about you. Told him you claimed a family emergency and wanted to change your interview time. He agreed to let you have a second chance.”

  Terese stepped toward him and retrieved the card. “Doesn’t he know about the show we put on…?” His whole office must’ve heard some of the fight or seen him chasing after her.

  “Ned was out sick that day, and he’s not much of a gossip.” Drew dipped his head. “Call him. It’ll be worth it.”

  She pursed her lips, tempted to rip the card in two. “So I have the job? I only have to show up?” She pushed the card back at him. “Thanks, but no thanks, Drew.” He held his hands up, blocking her.

  “I moved your interview. That’s all. The rest is up to you.”

  She jabbed the card at him. “And I’ll still be interviewing for a job with my ‘boyfriend’s’ company”—she made quotey fingers around boyfriend—“looking like I’m asking for personal favors.”

  “Nope.”

  God, he was so exacerbating. She threw her hands up. “What do you mean ‘nope’?”

  “Not my company. Not anymore.”

  The card slipped from her fingers and fluttered to the floor. “What are you saying?” Her words came out in a whisper, her throat bone dry.

  “I quit, Terese. I quit Drake.”

  “That’s crazy. Why did you do that?”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” He threw his arms in the air, mimicking her. “Because I’m tired of living under my dad’s shadow?” His arms dropped to his sides. “Not really. My dad’s cool.”

  “Drew…” Her voice shook.

  Scuffing his feet on the floor as his cheeks turned pink, he said, “Do I have to say it?”

  “Tell me.” She took another step toward him, her eyes brimming with tears. His expression ran through several emotions, fear, pride, sorrow, joy.

  He held his hands out, and she grasped them. “I did it for you.” His voice was a low whisper. “The new center/hotel is a golden opportunity for you. You are spectacularly qualified, Terese. You’d be perfect as an event coordinator or the hotel’s concierge. I couldn’t stand in your way, once I realized it was important to you. The opportunity is perfect.”

  She folded herself in his arms, and he pulled her close, his chin resting on the top of her head. She listened to his heartbeat, strong and steady. A sob shook her.

  “What about you?” she said, after failing several times to squeak out the words. When she finally did, he squeezed her tight.

  “Don’t worry about me. I have a golden resume, a nice severance package, and a very understanding former boss.”

  She blinked up at him. “Your dad was cool with you quitting?”

  He shrugged. “Yeah, he knew you held some influence over me.” He tugged at his hair. “And he knew I was ready to be on my own. And I am. You helped me there, Terese.”

  She slapped his chest. “So convenient then I showed up when you wanted to quit.”

  He laughed. “No, you donkey-kicked me with your high heels, showing me what an ass I was. That shoe booted me out and rightly so. I’ll find something. I hear the state is always hiring financial guys, or maybe I’ll apply for a job at one of the colleges.” She pulled back, her expression full of questions.

  “You think they’ll hire you? I mean really, what skills do you have?” She smiled, squeezing into him again.

  “I’m good with a mop.” He kissed the top of her head.

  “You’d do floors? For me?”

  “Sweetie, I’d wash windows if it meant I could be with you.” He swung her around, dipping her toward the floor, preparing to give her the kiss of a lifetime.

  She held up a finger, stopping him. “Maybe stick with something that requires a suit,” she said.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He grasped her hand and pressed his lips to her outstretched finger. She pouted, expecting another one of his toe-curling soul kisses. He winked, dipped down to her lips, and didn’t disappoint.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Drew glanced down at his phone. Reading texts while at a job interview was probably not the best move, but a message from Terese… He couldn’t help himself.

  Interview complete. TY, Drew

  The corners of his lips twitched up. Sounded like she got the job at the conference center after all. Maybe now, she’d go out with him again.

  “Are we keeping you from something, Mr. Drake?” Robert Moss, the interviewer for the position at the University of Iverton Bursar’s Office, scowled.

  “Of course not…” Drew began.

  “Don’t think your last name will get you any special privileges here, Mr. Drake.” Mr. Moss’s frown deepened. “I do know who you are, you know.”

  Drew clicked off his phone, taking a moment to reassess the pencil pusher in front of him. Worth it? An image of Terese and her take-no-prisoners attitude formed in his head. Time to borrow a page from her book.

  Sitting up straighter, Drew lowered his chin ever so slightly. “I apologize, Mr. Moss. It was rude of me to che
ck my phone before we finished.”

  Moss rolled his shoulders and nodded. “Not at all, Mr. Drake. I merely assumed you’d be more interested in the job interview than your phone.” He prickled, and Drew locked eyes with him in a Terese-style stare down.

  “Oh, I am, sir. But I’ll be honest with you.” He paused, crossing his legs. “It’s not my only appointment this week.” Smiling tightly, he rested his chin on his fist.

  The news visibly flustered Moss, and he broke eye contact. “Oh, I see. Then perhaps we’re wasting our time here.” He shuffled some papers, looking anywhere but at Drew.

  “Oh, Mr. Moss. I’m not trying to posture. I assure you. You said you knew me by reputation, correct?”

  Moss nodded, still not glancing up.

  “Then,” Drew continued, “I assume you also know I’m the perfect candidate for the position. I have an MBA from an excellent school, graduated magna cum laude. I have years of experience in finance, excellent references, and the stamina for such an intense job.”

  “Mr. Drake…Andrew…” Moss stuttered, his cheeks reddening at Drew’s forwardness.

  “Actually, it’s Drew.”

  “Drew, then. I…” His hand actually shook.

  Leaning forward, Drew tapped the resume in Moss’s hand. “You and I both know if you hire a Drake, you’ll get nothing but the best.” He pulled back and folded his hands on his lap. In a quieter voice, he added, “It couldn’t hurt your standing at the university either.”

  “Mr. Drake,” Moss said, finally raising his gaze. “Drew, I, uh, I can see from your resume you have some experience in the field. Your answers to my questions have been precise and intelligent.” He tapped the papers on the desk. “Thank you for your time today, Drew, uh, Mr. Drake.”

  They both stood, and Drew ensured he reached his hand out first. “Thank you for your time today, Mr. Moss.” He shook the man’s hand. “I appreciate your consideration.”

  Moss’s red cheeks flushed darker as if Drew stole the words right out of his mouth. “Uh, yes. Thank you. We’ll be contacting candidates for further interviews by the end of the week.”