Cocktail

1 Long Island Iced Tea “I’m the queen of bad dates,” Aubree Cole muttered as she stood to watch her date walk out the front door of Love Potion #9, Chicago’s trendiest new bar. He was already digging into the back pocket of those fine jeans; she knew what was coming before she heard the ping from her phone. Lifting it off the table, she saw the notification from the dating app Meet Cute. She read the message with dread. LongIsland23 says: had a nice time but I don’t think we’re a fit. Aubree slumped back into the booth and replayed the date from start to finish. All the awkward pauses rather than pleasant silences, the enthusiasm she’d had to be on a date and his apparent apprehension over her excitement. Had she seemed too eager? Too pathetic? Through the windows, she could see the streets full of snow with people bundled up as they walked past. By contrast, the bar was warm, and popular music—the kind she liked, came in through the speakers overhead but not too loud. Despite the bar’s welcoming atmosphere, Aubree couldn’t help but feel detached from the outside world and even from the people in the room. She couldn’t seem to manage a human connection in a romantic way. Dating hadn’t been this hard in high school or college. She glanced at her watch. It was only 9 o’clock, but she didn’t have the strength to walk the one block to her apartment just yet. She’d really hoped LongIsland23 would’ve been the One. He had been charming and sexy in their messages. He joked about his dog and dropped innuendos in a way that left her anticipating each message. She’d been so excited to see him in the flesh and to touch that flesh. In person, he’d been every bit the investment banker stereotype: cold and stiff. Pulling the app up again, she unmatched her profile from his and almost hit the button to start swiping again but stopped herself. What was the point? She had twelve bad dates in a row; there was no Mr. Perfect in sight. She felt like she was at the end of her rope when it came to dating. She glanced out the window again. Couples walked past hand in hand. It all seemed so easy, but she knew love and romance were anything but easy. God, that stuff shouldn’t matter. She was a liberated, independent woman of thirty-three with a fantastic job at the Chicago Board of Trade as the director of equities. She was fine. She had a nice apartment and a healthy 401k. She didn’t need Mr. Perfect. But something was missing in her life. All of her friends were married with the whole 2.5 kids thing. Aubree had put so much effort into her career that until last year, she hadn’t stopped working long enough to realize that she was lonely. One night, after half a bottle of Pinot Grigio, she had let her best friend Amanda talk her into signing up for a dating app called Meet Cute. For a few days, she hadn’t bothered to actually attempt matching with anyone. One weekend she was shopping and ran into an old college boyfriend, one who’d never dated a woman more than a month before dumping them. He’d been in a department store with his wife and two kids—a picture-perfect family. How Mr. Can’t Settle Down had gotten married while she was still single had sent her straight back to the Meet Cute app. Since then, her dating life had gone from nonexistent to a train wreck. She stared at the long island iced tea she’d ordered because she thought it would be cute given her date’s screen name. The guy hadn’t even cracked a smile when she explained her drink choice nor had he stuck around long enough to pay for his drink. With a heavy sigh, Aubree called it a night. If she got home in time, she could watch one of those good thriller movies she’d been meaning to watch forever. She picked up her purse and headed toward the bar to settle her tab. She glanced around and set her clutch down on the cherry wood bar top. The bar was empty. She leaned forward and peered over the edge of the bar to see if there might be a bartender crouched down to grab extra glasses or something. Aubree was still propped up over the counter, her elbows braced on the wood as the door at the end of one wall behind the bar swung open and a man stepped out behind the bar. She couldn’t help but stare at him. The man was gorgeous. Okay, way beyond gorgeous. He had broad shoulders and wore a light blue button up shirt with the cuffs rolled up to his elbows, exposing sun-tanned muscled skin. His trim waist accented by dark blue jeans that fit like a glove. Aubree’s mouth ran dry as her gaze traveled up his body to his face. He looked like Chris Hemsworth with a chiseled face that held a hint of delicious edginess. She usually fell for men who had that sweet, cute sort of boy-next-door look. But this guy? He was the boy next door who had aged a decade and then joined the Marines. A lock of dark blonde hair fell into his blue eyes; it was a little long, just enough that he could casually run his fingers through it. She noticed his mouth and those full lips that were moving as he stood in front of her. Then those lips stopped moving and he stared at her expectantly. “Huh?” She suddenly blurted as she realized with complete and total mortification that the man had been talking to her. “Another Long Island iced tea?” he asked in the most gorgeous Australian accent. “Oh… no. Thanks.” She blushed. “I just need to settle the tab for our table.” “Sure, hang on.” He retrieved a black tablet and ran her table number. “Two drinks?” “Yeah… My date had to leave early so—” “So, he made you pay?” A look of open disgust crossed the man’s face before he masked it with politeness. “Yeah… Guess that should’ve been a tipoff that he wasn’t the one.” She retrieved her card and slid it over the lacquered bar surface toward him. The man took the card to process her p*****t. When he gave her the receipt, she saw only one drink on the tab. “I had two drinks,” she reminded him. The bartender’s lips twitched. “No woman in this bar is going to pay for a man’s drink after being ditched on a date.” Aubree winced. “You saw him ditch me, huh?” She wanted to die right there. Everyone nearby must have seen her crash and burn on her date. “I saw that asshole leave. So yeah, you don’t pay for him.” “Thanks.” She could afford to pay for the extra drink, but she appreciated the gesture. “You want to talk about it?” The man pulled out a glass and set it down before her, but when she started to reach for her wallet again, he smiled. “No worries. This one’s on the house.” He passed her a glass of something after he mixed it. “What is it?” She eyed the brightly colored magenta flower he’d dropped in the top of the clear drink. He leaned forward with his hands on the bar and his strong forearms showing thick, well defined muscles. That same lock of dark blond hair fell into his eyes again as he tipped his head toward her and lifted an eyebrow as he flashed her a conspiratorial smile that sent her stomach dancing with butterflies. “Valley of the flowers. Snow leopard vodka, Mizu Shochu, and a couple of dashes of grapefruit bitters.” “Snow leopard vodka?” She took a sip as he watched her. His intense stare made her blush. “Rare, like a good woman,” he replied and then he left her alone to enjoy the drink. He filled half a dozen other orders while she sipped her cocktail. As he worked, she had a chance to spy on him. He smiled and laughed easily with the customers as he prepared drinks. I bet he sees a lot of dates here. She couldn’t help but wonder if asking him for his opinion might be a good idea. Weren’t bartenders supposed to offer good advice? Then he returned to her end of the bar. “Can I get your professional bartending opinion?” she asked while the Valley of the flowers was working its magic, leaving her feeling decidedly bold. He collected her empty glass and began to unload clean shot glasses on a shelf under the edge of the bar. “I’ll do my best,” he replied. God that accent was going to kill her. She shot a glance at the large hands that had delicately created an elaborate drink a few minutes earlier. There was no ring on his ring finger. But he had a Celtic band around one thumb. For some reason that sent her body burning so hot; she couldn’t help but picture him gripping her hips hard, leaving the imprint of that ring on her skin as they made love. “So… How do you know if the guy is…you know…right for a woman? I keep thinking men sound great when we chat on the app, but in person things just fizzle out. Is it my fault? It feels like it is.” She hadn’t really meant to ask him that last part, but it was the truth. Her date tonight had been attractive, and she should have wanted to kiss him, but it had died somewhere between the first awkward greeting hug and the ordering of the drinks. The bartender straightened and looked her over before he spoke. His voice was smooth, deep, and so damn sexy it made her clench her thighs together. “Chemistry between a man and a woman cannot be conjured up like a magic trick. You either have it or you don’t.” “So how do you know for sure if the chemistry is there?” Aubree pressed. After the dozen or so dates with different guys so far, she hadn’t felt chemistry at all, at least not in person. While she didn’t want to marry a guy just because they had good chemistry, she wasn’t about to marry a man who didn’t sexually excite her at all. “How?” He leaned over the bar and gently tucked a lock of her auburn hair behind her ear. His fingertips lingered against her skin. She shivered with longing as something stirred to life within her. “It can happen with a single touch, even a look.” His voice was rich like the whisky he had poured in a short crystal-cut glass. His eyes swept down her body in a slow way as though he was removing each piece of clothing from in his mind. She could almost feel his hands touching her, peeling off her black cocktail dress, sliding off her black pumps, and caressing the cups of her bra before he— Aubree jerked her gaze back to his face. “You felt something just now, didn’t you?” he asked, an all-too-knowing smile resting on his lips. “Maybe,” she admitted, glancing away in embarrassment. She had shared her hopes and dreams with LongIsland23 for two weeks, yet she felt more with this bartender than she had with any other man in a long time…maybe ever. “If you didn’t feel the spark with him, it’s not your fault. He’s just not the man for you.” He paused, as though he wanted to say more, but a man at the end of the bar waved him down. He answered the man with a quick nod and then turned to her. “Just a minute.” Then he walked away to take the man’s order. The moment he was gone, rational thought returned. Aubree took advantage of the bartender’s distraction. She grabbed her purse and quickly ducked outside. She pulled her coat on, walked across the street, and headed toward her apartment. Her heels sunk slightly in the inch of snow on the sidewalk; she wasn’t cold at all though. In fact, she felt hot enough after that bartender’s look, that she was surprised steam wasn’t coming off her. She didn’t even know his name, yet the scorching look he’d given her had overwhelmed her in a way she’d never imagined. It scared her a little. Once home, she kicked off her heels, changed into her lounge pants and an oversized sweatshirt, and made some hot herbal tea. For a moment she sat on her comfy leather sofa, her body still humming from her talk with the bartender. It was as though the part of her that had been asleep had stirred to life. She felt, as foolish as it sounded, like a princess in a distant tower awakening from an enchanted slumber, even without the man’s kiss. Maybe romance was possible for her. If she felt something with that bartender, she could still have a chance at finding love and passion again. She pulled up the Meet Cute app, perusing it for new guys. The problem with the app was that she couldn’t see anyone’s face. It was all anonymous until the in-person meet up. She had dated a few guys that hadn’t been too inspiring in the looks department. Nothing like the bartender tonight. Aubree felt bad for such a shallow thought, but she didn’t really want to date a man who didn’t take care of himself. She started swiping but her mind kept drifting to the bartender’s face and the way he looked at her like he could have eaten her up and come back for seconds. She groaned and threw her phone on the floor. So much for tonight. So much for love. Maybe she should just give up. Matthew Lawson turned away from the customer he had made a martini for and glanced down to the far end of the bar. She was gone. Aubree Cole… He felt like a stalker for memorizing the name from her credit card, but he’d been fascinated with her. He’d seen her come in two hours ago and sit nervously in the cozy little two-person booth close to the bar. He watched as she’d tried to focus on her phone, then look at the drink menu long enough that she had time to memorize it. She had that intense and thoughtful look about her that he didn’t see too much these days. Matthew had also seen that cocky bastard in the five-hundred-dollar suit walk up and give her the most awkward hug ever witnessed. It was clear the man was put off by Aubree. She was sweet, sexy, and obviously successful. She had that polished elegant look of a woman who needed to look presentable every day for a complicated high-powered job, but she didn’t overdo anything. Yes, whoever Aubree was, she was a very talented and intelligent woman—just his type. Matthew knew he shouldn’t get involved. He had moved from Australia six months ago to open the Love Potion #9 bar with his friend Will. They’d both felt Chicago was the perfect city to open their bar. As a city, it had the right mix of business and pleasure. He wanted customers from both worlds to enjoy the unique cocktails they made here. He knew he should be focused on business, not chasing women. But damn, he couldn’t ignore Aubree. She was just that, irresistible. There was a delightful innocence to her. She wasn’t jaded by life or love, not yet, not like him. She made him want to give love a second chance. Hopefully she would come back.