Great Drinks, Questionable Conversations

WOMEN EXISTED FOR NO other reason than to be the end of man. Danny was sure of it.

A pint of pale ale clunked against the wooden bar in front of him. He didn’t look up at the man who served it, only stared at the cascade of golden effervescence floating to the creamy head on top. Such a simple perfection. Predictable. Reliable. A scientific masterpiece he could always depend on. Unlike—

“Eight dollars.”

Danny snapped up. “Eight? For domestic beer?”

“It’s craft.”

“By who, Jesus?”

“Do I need to call security?” The bartender leaned his entire mid-sized weight on the bar, clearly trying to flex his arms.

Danny only stared at the wine stain streaked up his white sleeve.

He pointed at it. “You should always use a bar towel.”

“Eight. Dollars.”

Danny sighed and peeled off his coat.

The bartender took a step back, staring at Danny’s boulder-sized arms covered in swirling black ink. “What are you doing?”

He dug inside the inner pocket of his coat before laying it over an empty stool beside him, holding up his wallet. “What’s it look like I’m doing?”

“It looks like you need to put your coat back on.”

Danny lifted one brow.

He’d been told his bulldog-build and resting scowl face screamed “fight me,” but anyone who knew him knew he never started a fight unless he had to. An overpriced beer wasn’t a reason. All he wanted was a simple drink before leaving his week from hell behind.

He studied the scratched name tag dangling from the bartender’s button-down shirt. “I don’t want to put my coat on, Chris. It’s hot in here.”

Chris kept his eyes glued to Danny’s hand as he slowly slipped out a ten-dollar bill, held it up, and tossed it on the bar. “Eight dollars is a rip-off, man.”

Maybe he wouldn’t start a fight over an overpriced drink, but that didn’t mean Danny could resist pointing out the principle of the matter.

“This is an airport, man, of course it’s a rip-off.” Chris crumpled the bill and didn’t offer him change.

Danny mulled over the worth of two dollars and decided to let him keep it. He even contemplated telling him that bartending was an art he should take pride in, but figured that lesson might be unwanted by an underpaid airport bartender. He picked up his glass and got lost in the first sip.

Quiet fell around him, and he glanced up with froth caked over his mustache. Swiping his mouth, he followed the gaze of all ten men at the bar over his rounded shoulder.

A pair of long, slender legs below a pinstripe pencil skirt stepped down the three stairs in stiletto heels to the pit of the bar—which unimaginatively was called The Pit.

Beautiful legs were all Danny saw before he snapped back around and glued his attention to the beauty that never disappointed. Ale. Ale was the only woman he needed now. Every muscle in his body seized when heels ticked closer and stopped beside him.

“What can I get for you?” Chris said.

Danny scoffed at his complete one-eighty. All politeness and excited voice. Though after glancing up, he noticed Chris covered his wine-stained arm with a towel.

“Red. Anything dry or from Italy, please.” The woman’s gentle tone was laced with a smile.

Danny shifted in his seat to keep from connecting a face to the voice. He didn’t want to know if she was as nice to look at as she was to hear. He took another long sip.

“Excuse me, is this seat saved for someone?”

From the corner of his eye, he watched powder-pink nails patting his coat. The same nails attached to a finger that displayed a sizable, sparkling stone.

Figured.

His sip turned into two large gulps that he let run out and over the beard he stopped trimming a week ago. Brought up to believe women hated men who lacked manners, Danny decided at that moment to lose all of his and belched.

She didn’t gasp or leave like he hoped. She chuckled—chuckled?

“I only need a place to sit and give my feet a break from these shoes. I love the look of them, but my toes and calves are killing me.”

He huffed and kept drinking. No way he’d fall for her attempt to get him to give her model-like legs a second look. He was on to her.

Bartender Chris glared. “Move your coat.”

“Pick another seat.”

“Actually, this is the last one,” she said, smile still in her voice.

Danny slowly scanned the bar, looking everywhere but where she hovered. It wasn’t a lie. Sucking in a breath, he released it with obnoxious gusto, snatched the coat, and draped it over his thick legs.

She slid in next to him. “Thank you.”

He pretended she wasn’t there. Especially when the sweet, delicate scent of flowering citrus wafted toward him. He buried his nose in the smell of hops and malted barley, blocking her scent, and wondered if he’d look disgusting enough to make her leave if he shoved napkins up his nose.

Chris slid a more than proper portion of red wine across the bar and ducked his head to get her attention. “I know you must get this a lot, but are you Madelynn Johnson, by any chance?”

Danny rolled his eyes.

“Depends on who’s asking.”

Chris belted an obnoxious laugh, and Danny’s brow shadowed his eyes. “It’s a real honor.”

Chris held out a paw. She placed a hand in his and Uninterested Danny made note that he should’ve let go three seconds ago.

“May I also extend my deepest sympathies.” Chris plastered a perfectly timed pout and covered her hand with his other.

Danny groaned into his glass. The man tried way too hard to impress this woman and needed to grow a pair.

Madelynn made a small grunting noise, and Danny noticed her hand remained trapped while she tried to pull back. His upper lip ticked. Not that he felt the need to protect her from sloppy, unkempt bartenders. No. It was Chris, he told himself. Chris with his embarrassing display was why his skin pricked.

He flicked a finger hard across the man’s knuckles. “Clearly the woman isn’t interested.”

Chris released her hand and stammered, “I-I’m sorry, Madelynn. I uh ... ” He rushed, red faced, to the tired businessman with a loosened tie at the other end of the bar, asking for cheap bourbon on the rocks.

She sighed. “Thank you. I didn’t think I’d get my hand back.”

Danny propped fingers on the side of his face, shading it from her, and gulped more ale. He hated gulping. All he wanted was to sip and savor, but his blood pressure hadn’t eased like he’d hoped after Chris left. Instead, it increased with loud thumping inside his eardrums. He had to get out of there, but he couldn’t bring himself to waste an eight-dollar pint.

Madelynn swirled a finger over the rim of her glass. “Are you headed for home or leaving it?”

His face twisted. It wasn’t her fault the question stung. How could she know that he ran from the home he thought he’d never leave, for the home he thought he’d never return to.

He buried his face in his ale without answering.

“Ah. You just want to drink in peace.” Her finger stopped circling. “I can relate to that. I normally wouldn’t come into a crowded bar, but I really needed this glass of wine. Here, let me buy you another drink and get out of your hair.” She held up a hand to get Chris’s attention.

Danny sprang out and shoved her arm down. “No.” He took a deep breath, careful not to look at her, and adjusted his expression to as pleasant as he could make it. “Thanks.”

“You have a nice smile.”

A shudder ran through him, and his lips curled against his teeth. “This is how it starts isn’t it?”

“I beg your pardon?”

The ale rippled inside his glass, swishing and swaying until it sloshed out. He crumpled a pile of napkins and scrubbed the mess. “First it’s, ‘Nice smile.’ Then it’s, ‘You’re so handsome. Look at how strong you are. This is meant to be. We’re soulmates. Let’s get married. Oh, but did I forget to mention that I’m sleeping with every other man in our building complex because you can’t make me happy?’”

His jaw snapped shut and he closed his eyes. He didn’t mean to say so much.

“I didn’t realize.” A distinct quaver was in her voice, and she cleared it. “I didn’t realize my compliment would upset you so much.”

Danny slapped the bar and she jumped. “The ring on your left hand. Or do you think I’m so stupid as to not notice you’re a married woman? I don’t need you to buy me a beer or tell me I have a nice smile. I don’t want you anywhere near me. Take your undeserving, cheatin’ ass home to your husband and beg his forgiveness, Jezebel.”

She stumbled out of the stool. “I-I ... ” Her hands clinked and clattered inside a black clutch and retrieved a twenty, laying it on the bar without another word.

Danny swallowed down the rising bile of regret with the last of his ale. All he’d wanted was one drink.

Her fading heel clicks stopped near the stairs, and she turned. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry your wife hurt you like that.”

Danny whipped around and confirmed what her voice had already told him. She was beautiful—of course she was. Tall and slender with an hourglass shape and golden-brown waves bouncing off her back. She didn’t stomp up the stairs like he expected, but with the grace of a ballerina, tread quietly up and out of The Pit.

“Get out,” Chris boomed. “Get out before I throw you out. That was freakin’ Madelynn Johnson.”

Danny fumbled his wallet back into his pocket. He’d never heard of Madelynn Johnson, but he knew he’d never behaved so terribly in his life.

“And for your information, asshole, she isn’t cheating. Every man in here, but you, knows that’s not possible.”

Danny’s eyes swept the room, catching all the glares.

Chris leaned in. “That cheater, as you called her, is the same woman who just came from a memorial for her late husband.”

Danny’s lungs emptied out. “Late husband?”

“Yes, you idiot. He died a year ago, but they had some fancy dedication for him last weekend. Where have you been for the last seven days? Every news outlet has replayed the event because of who her husband was.”

Seven days. The same seven days Danny’s world shattered when he heard six, simple words out of his wife’s mouth. “You were never the only man.”

“You deaf too?” Chris’s fist hit the bar. “Get out.”

Danny snatched his coat and ran up the stairs to the overcrowded terminal. He craned his neck left and right while he bumped elbows and zig-zagged around suitcases. He had to fix this. Had to find her. If for no other reason than to gain some control over the spiraling chaos that had become his life in such a short time.

He didn’t care if she accepted his apology or not. He made a vow that it all stopped here. That the words his wife used to tear him apart would never bleed on to someone else ever again.