Forsaken

CHAPTER TWO

They'd met in the bar. Sam had come in one night with a large bachelorette party, a group of boisterous young women who had crowded into that very corner of the room, laughing and singing and downing round after round of mixed drinks and celebratory cocktails.

Sam had ordered the first of these, having waded through the typical Saturday night throng to approach the bar. Jason had been working on one end, his regular bartender, Eddie, had been hustling on the other, and even together, they'd had a hard time keeping up with the busy demand for drinks and draughts. And then he'd seen her, a stunning brunette with brown eyes and a gauzy cream-colored peasant blouse cut low enough to provide a demure yet provocative peek at her cleavage.

As a career bartender, Jason had seen more than his fair share of beautiful women. Women liked bartenders, or more specifically, they liked to fuck bartenders. He'd pretty much had his pick of young, nubile hotties who'd packed into Sully's on any given weekend, and pick them he had. But all at once, when he'd seen Samantha, he'd immediately forgotten them all. He'd forgotten how busy the bar was, how loud the overlapping din of live music and raucous conversation had been, never mind the running litany of pending drink orders in his mind that had yet to be filled, and the half dozen more besides that were currently being shouted out at him from patrons crowding the bar.

He'd stared in dumbstruck amazement at Sam, flustered for what was likely the first time in his entire life. "I'd like to get some drinks, please," she'd called out to him, teetering on her tiptoes as she balanced on the bar's brass foot rail and leaned over.

Blinking to snap out of his reverie, he'd managed a smile. "Well, then, you've come to the right place," he'd said, holding up the bottle of Bloodhorse bourbon that had, to that moment, been dangling impotently in his hand. "I happen to make them."

Her mouth had unfurled in the breathtakingly beautiful smile that was now quite familiar to him, that still stole his breath whenever he saw it as much as it had that first time.

She'd given him her credit card to run a tab, but he hadn't charged her, not for that first round or any of the subsequent ones. The bachelorette party had been large, and even with his overhead, he'd wound up losing several hundred dollars by giving them their drinks for free, but it hadn't mattered. Sam had a good time. But when the sizeable charge she'd thought she'd incurred still hadn't shown up on her bank account two weeks after the party, she'd returned to Sully's on a Monday afternoon, statement in hand, and a quizzical expression on her face.

"I'd like to speak to the manager, please," she'd said. Jason had been unloading an order of beer, heavy boxes in which bottles clattered and clanged together as he stacked them against a dolly for transit to his walk-in cooler. He'd blinked at her, dumbstruck all over again, and she smiled, recognizing him. "Oh, hey. I don't know if you'll remember me or not, but I was in here a couple of weeks ago, a Saturday night, with a bunch of—"

"No, I remember," he said, adding to himself, How could I forget you?

She hadn't been wearing any makeup that day, and her hair had been drawn back loosely in a ponytail. No fancy clothes or jewelry for a night on the town, she'd worn a plain old sweatshirt and blue jeans.

She'd been stunning.

"You know, nothing ever showed up on my credit card," she said, giving the paper in her hand a little demonstrative flap. "For the drinks, I mean. I know sometimes it takes a while for stuff to go through, but I called the bank and they said there wasn't even anything pending."

Jason shook his head. "Don't worry about it."

"But I...I thought..." She blinked at him in bewildered if not somewhat suspicious surprise. "I want to make sure the drinks were paid for."