Mason Dager slowly spun the misty whiskey tumbler between fingertips grown cold from the prolonged contact. The beautiful, egg-shaped glass didn’t look well balanced. He was almost afraid to let it go. When he forced himself to release the glass, it sat perfectly still on the bar disk.
The ice cubes were nearly all melted, but he had yet to take a sip.
“Not to your liking?” The bartender, a blue-haired woman with tattoos struggling to climb her neck despite her attempt to hide them under a scarf. It was a black and gray sugar skull scarf. He frowned. She was probably not trying to hide them at all. Glancing at her face, he noticed a mark underneath her bottom lip.
“Not allowed to wear piercings while working?” Mason almost chuckled. He was amazed that a posh winter resort, River Cove—su
