“What?” she asked innocently.
“I have a margarita,” I reminded her.
Oakley leaned an elbow on the bar. “It’s been sitting there for almost an hour. It’s probably watered down and gross. Plus, lemon drops are delicious. You’ll love it. And if you don’t, I’ll drink it.”
“Do you guys wanna dance?” Lettie asked.
“Dance?” People still did that?
“Yes, dance!” she exclaimed, grabbing my hand. “Come on.”
“What about the drinks?” I’m sure the bartender would hate to get them all ready and then look up to find us gone.
“We’ll come back for them,” Brandy said.
I looked back at the guy as he filled beer glasses, then turned to the others. “You guys go. I’ll wait for them and come get you when they’re all done.” I couldn’t imagine he’d be long making them anyway. But I’d wait with the drinks while they had their fun to whatever country song was on the jukebox.
“Are you sure?” Oakley asked, her red hair draped over her shoulders like silk.
“It’s only a few feet away,” I pointed out.
The three of them glanced at the makeshift dance floor and then back to me like they were mentally measuring the distance.
They looked at me like they didn’t want to leave me, which was nice of them, but I’d be fine. “I don’t know how to dance. I really don’t mind.”
“One song,” Brandy promised.
I gestured to the group of people already doing some cohesive dance as I sat on the second stool from the end. “Get going, then!”
They headed off toward the group of people stomping and twirling as I swiveled on the seat to face the bar. There were already two beers in front of me, and I was sure the rest weren’t far behind. Even if they wanted to dance for a few more songs, I could take Callan up on his offer to help bring the drinks back to the table. It’d give me an excuse to talk to him and right now, I needed the distraction.
The bartender set what I presumed to be the lemon drop on the bar in front of me and I eyed it for a moment before picking it up and taking a long sip. It was sour, but it covered up the taste of vodka well. It was almost like drinking an extra tart lemonade. I’d have to pace myself with these if I wanted to stay aware of my surroundings.
The chance of something happening tonight was slim, but I didn’t want to be too comfortable and caught off guard. Jason was good at showing up when I least expected it.
To my left, the barstool scraped against the ground and someone sat in it. I avoided making eye contact only because I didn’t want to give anyone the wrong impression. I was here to have fun, according to Oakley, but that didn’t mean I had to give every stranger the time of day.
“Sage, is it?” the man asked.
My heart jumped in my chest at the use of my name and I turned. My spine was stiff, my breath caught in my throat. “Uhm—”
“You work at the cafe,” he explained, and my chest eased a fraction. He was just a customer.
“I do.”
He held out a hand and I looked down at it before hesitantly setting my palm in his. He shook it, his grip hard. “Can I buy you a drink?”
I pulled my arm back, folding my hands together in my lap as I glanced at my drink. “Already have one, but thanks.”
His brows pulled down as he ignored the drink on the bar. “I can buy you something better than that girly drink.”
My chest tightened like a brick was placed on it as I recognized him from the other day when he tried to get my last name. He’d made me feel a little off then, but right now was solidifying the fact that he was a creep. “I’m okay. Thank you, though.”
“Please, I insist,” he said, his voice laced with demand. He held a hand up for the bartender to see and gave him a nod.
“Really, I’m okay—”
“You’re not one for pleasantries, are you?” he asked, cutting me off.
“I—”
“I think she said no,” Brandy’s voice interrupted before I could get a word out.
The man paid her no mind. “Little busy here, princess.”
The nickname he spit out so casually took me by surprise, and I looked at Brandy to find her fuming.
“What did you just call me?” she gritted out.
Lettie and Oakley strode up behind Brandy, smiles on their faces as they clearly didn’t know what was currently going on.
“He get our drinks?” Oakley asked, referencing the bartender, who was stuck in a conversation at the end of the bar, holding two of our drinks hostage.
This time, the man looked at the three of them. “Only buying for one tonight.”
“Not you, you fucking pig,” Brandy seethed, and before I could blink, she was shoving his chest.
23
