5. Cohen

Although most of the bar's business happened at night, I had paperwork and balancing the books to worry about during the day. Still, I tried to stay late on the weekends while Ollie was at his mom's to make sure everything was running smoothly. It was nice to get a feel for how the team worked together and step in as needed during busy times.

I stood behind the bar with the other bartenders, mixing drinks and serving customers, when my manager, Steve, patted me on the shoulder. "Cohen, how many times can I tell you? We've got this."

I shook my head. "Is it a crime for me to roll up my sleeves every now and then?"

He reached into the fridge by our legs, pulled out a beer bottle and easily popped off the top. "You've been working nonstop. We're doing great and you're missing it." He handed the beer to me, then got another for himself.

"Drinking on the job?" I said with a sardonic grin.

"I like to call it quality analysis," Steve said, lifting the bottle. "Come on."

He walked from behind the bar, stepping out of the way of the bartenders, and went to one of the standing tables near the dance floor. There were two open seats, so he took one and I sat in the other, resting the soles of my leather shoes on the chair rail.

"Look at it," he said, gesturing at the bar.

As I watched people dancing, couples chatting, the bartenders and waitstaff working together, I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. We'd hired some of the best, and they worked together like a well-oiled machine.

"Great work," I said.

He lifted his chin, taking another swig. "Same to you."

I grinned. "Looks like I'm not needed anymore."

"Good," he said. "Maybe you'll actually have time for a life."

"I do have a life," I said. "Ollie and I—"

"I mean outside of your kid and your job."

"Well, I did get my offer accepted on a house today," I said, grinning like a kid on Christmas morning. I couldn't believe I was going to have my own house for Ollie and me. Not one my in-laws had helped pay for. Not one my ex-wife constantly complained was too small. Something for me.

"That's awesome!" He lifted his beer toward me and drank again. "Where is it?"

"On the outskirts of Emerson. Twenty minutes from Ollie's school, ten from the bar. Nice sidewalks and easy access to the trails so I can run. And a massive backyard." I was getting a little close to bragging, so I shut my mouth and drank from my beer.

"So poker night's at your house? It's been a bummer having to be quiet with Millie sleeping."

He made a good point. Ever since becoming parents last year, he and his wife had shaken up poker night. None of the other guys had enough space, me included, but I could see fixing up the garage to be a good place for us. "You're on. Poker night at my new place next month—if inspections go well and Ollie's okay with it."

"Good deal." He gestured his chin toward the dance floor. "Don't you ever miss being with a woman?"

"Who says I haven't been with a woman?"

He lifted his eyebrows and took another drink.

Okay, so I'd been in a bit of a dry spell. After the divorce, yeah, I slept with some women. I met them at the bar, took them home when Ollie wasn't around, and had a hell of a time. But it didn't take too long to realize casual sex wasn't enough. I wanted more than that. But, like I'd told Linda earlier, I was a middle-aged man with a kid and an apartment and a business. Not exactly boyfriend material.

Maybe Linda was right though. My life would change once Ollie was gone. And as Steve had pointed out, I wasn't needed as much at the bar anymore. Would there be room in my life for something more?

I glanced toward the dance floor, and my eyes landed on the sexiest woman I'd seen in a long, long time. She wore a sequined dress, and her blond curly hair fell wild around her shoulders. With her full chest and hips, my mind went straight to what it would feel like to have her sitting on top of me, and my dick responded in agreement.

"Do you see that blond?" I said, nodding toward the woman and her friend.

Steve pointed at his wedding ring. "I see nothing."

More for me. She was hot as hell. And fuck. She was dancing. Even though she was clearly nervous, I couldn't help but watch the way her hips and her tits swayed in that dress. Or the way her smile lit up her entire face. A light sheen of sweat shone on her skin, and I imagined what it would be like to lick the salt off her shoulder, bite down on her neck... damn.

Hadn't I just told Linda I wasn't interested in dating? What was wrong with me? Steve was right' it had been a long time.

"Go talk to her," Steve said.

I looked at him. "She can't be more than thirty. What would she want with someone my age?"

"You're barely forty, and according to Tina's magazines, forty is the new thirty. Blondie might be too old for you."

I rolled my eyes. "Haha."

"You should get her a drink."

That was a good idea. But why couldn't I get my ass out of the chair? And why were my palms sweating? "I don't know, Steve. Ollie's been kind of off lately, and with the house hunt, I—"

"It doesn't have to be forever!" Steve said, exasperated. "Go have a conversation. You can do that, right?"

"Right," I repeated, mechanically pushing myself out of the chair. I walked toward the dance floor, but a crush of people passed in front of me—college students from the look of it. But by the time they passed, I'd come up with a million reasons why she wouldn't be interested in a guy like me.

Fuck.

I was a coward.

I drained my beer and went to the bar to get another one. Maybe three. Then I could bring her and her friend a drink.

I took my beer first, trying to work up the courage to talk to this girl. I'd never been this nervous before. Maybe because I was out of practice. Maybe because the way her curves filled out that dress had my body reacting in very inappropriate ways.

Either way, I promised myself I'd talk to her by the end of the night. And then I'd put the rest in her hands.