Teaching Foster's Cowboy - Izaia Winter Page 0,2

through the door, but he was a different stranger. Not mine. He was wearing a nice suit that matched the heavy-looking briefcase hanging at his side, a stressed-out expression on his face. I ignored the small pinch of disappointment as I gave him a friendly smile and welcomed him inside. It wasn’t his fault he wasn’t the man I longed to see.

Moving down the bar to where he’d taken his seat, I gestured toward the rows of bottles behind me. “What can I get you?”

“Whisky. Neat.”

“Rough day?” I asked, having realized long ago that being a bartender was more than making drinks and smiling pretty. Sometimes it was about being a sympathetic ear, a cheap therapist for an hour or two. Not that I liked to give out advice. I didn’t want to screw up anyone’s life, but I could nod and grunt at the appropriate times.

Nodding, he tossed back his drink, grimacing hard as he gestured for another. “With no end in sight. Keep ‘em coming.”

“Sure thing,” I said, backing off as I recognized his desire to wallow alone.

Ding.

Twisting around at the soft, twinkling sound, I felt the tightness I’d been carrying around for days slowly loosen its grip on me.

He was back.

My smile was genuine as I locked eyes with him. My heart was racing, and my palms were sweaty as I rubbed them against my thighs. A hit of adrenaline burned through my veins at the sight of his soft chestnut hair and the grin that never failed to confuse me. Looking down at my station, I tried to force my smile down, but my desire to play it cool was nothing next to my happiness at seeing him again. Ignoring the nervous trembling in my hands, I began mentally preparing myself for our coming interaction.

Don’t say anything stupid, I said to myself as I sensed his approach.

“Hi, agai—” I stopped as Angie, one of the waitresses working my shift with me, zoomed in front of my stranger’s slow, measured pace and bounced up to the counter.

“Four martinis and a Long Island iced tea,” she said with her perpetually perky smile as she slapped the ticket on the counter.

I shot a quick glance behind Angie toward him before directing my gaze toward the group of sorority girls in the back. Of the five girls, one wore a bright pink sash that loudly announced her bride-to-be status while her friends wore obnoxious tiaras. I was once again glad I’d never have a bridal party like that. Unless… I shook my head. Billie would never do that to me.

“Sure,” I replied with a quick nod as I grabbed the paper. Slipping it to the side, I locked eyes with him once more as Angie skipped away, holding my breath as he stepped up to the bar.

“Hello, again,” I tried once more, this time to the right person. “What can I get you?”

I already knew his answer, but I still asked so that I could hear his voice.

I held his gaze as I waited for his reply, silently hoping he’d take his time. His blue-green eyes were intense and beautiful as he stared up at me. Every time he looked at me, I couldn’t help but remember the shark exhibit at the aquarium my last boyfriend had taken me to on a date. Fascinated by the large creatures, I’d stayed by the glass and watched as the sharks swam by, eyeing me like their next dinner. I could have sat there for hours watching them, but they’d freaked Jake out so much that I’d had to leave them behind. Something about his eyes were just like theirs: predatory and watchful. Reaching up self-consciously, I brushed my hand through my hair, his gaze following the movement with an intensity that was normal for him.

His eyes were the only thing about him that reminded me of those sharks. His jaw was a little soft, and his cheeks were a bit too full, giving him an innocent, youthful appearance even though I knew he was much older than he looked. Time had been very kind to him. The little mustache and beard he’d taken to wearing only emphasized his full lips—lips I desperately wanted to kiss. And he was always smiling with one side of his mouth ticked up higher than the other in a constant smirk. I could never tell if he was laughing at me or if that was just his natural expression.

“The usual,” he said as he reached back for