Boss Daddy: A Secret Baby Romance by Black, L. (big screen ebook reader txt) 📗
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“Two… somethings. I don’t care. Alcohols,” Matt said. The bartender smirked.
“Liquor or beer?” he asked.
“Liquor. Something that tastes good and isn’t mostly water,” he said.
It was an old trick for scouting bars, but it held up. Go in and ask the bartender for something but not specify what. See what the bartender served you, how expensive it was, and how much alcohol it contained. You could learn a lot about a bar by what the motives of the bartender was when they first met you.
A tall martini glass came back with some yellow liquid in it. I assumed it was pineapple juice. Matt immediately downed about half of it.
“Damn, that’s good,” he said. “I’ll have another one of those. Jordan?”
“Sam’s, please,” I said.
“Another one of these and a Sammy for my brother,” Matt said to the bartender. As he ducked behind the bar to get the glass for my beer, two girls sauntered over our way. They were very pretty, but one of them looked like she’d had about twenty drinks too many and was swaying wildly. She was also having a tremendous amount of trouble keeping one of the straps of her dress on, and it kept falling and exposing enough of her breast that I had to look away.
“We don’t recognize you two,” the sober one said. Her voice was nasally and had an accent I couldn’t quite place. I figured it was Canadian.
“That’s because we’re new here,” Matt said, eagerly finishing his first drink before the second arrived.
“You’re hot,” the somewhat coherent one said, then stumbled ever so slightly into the person behind her. She didn’t seem to notice.
“Thank you,” I said. “But I’m taken. Matt, on the other hand, is wildly single.”
Both women descended on Matt like vultures, and I scooted a little out of the way so he could bask in their attention. He ended up ordering two drinks for the ladies, a real one for the sober one and a “special” one for the other. I made eye contact with the bartender, and the shared glance told me he was already on top of it. When he handed her the mostly cranberry-flavored water drink, I pulled out an extra bit of cash for his tip.
Dropping the cash on the bar, I began to walk away, but Matt grabbed me. He was deep in conversation with the sober one, and the drunker one was just hanging on every word the both of them said.
“I was just telling these girls here that we’re opening a new bar,” he said excitedly.
“Is that The Hollow one?” the sober girl asked. “I saw some fliers and got an email about it. I heard you guys do theme nights!”
“We do,” Matt said, matching her enthusiasm and raising the stakes even higher. It was like his entire attitude was shifting. It made me chuckle.
“Yup, and karaoke if we can get the machine installed in time,” I said.
“Oh, I love to sing!” the drunk one said. The short snippet of whatever cursed song she broke into for the next few seconds told me that while she might love to sing, not many people loved to hear it.
Before long, it was time to hit another of the bars, and Matt got both of their numbers. As we were walking out of the bar, he was grinning from ear to ear, and I noticed he had lipstick marks on both cheeks. I shook my head.
“I love this town,” he mumbled.
I decided not to call him on it and instead headed to the truck where I could drive the two of us to the next place. I only drank a quarter of the beer in each of the three bars we had been to already. I figured by the time the night was done, I might have two whole beers in me. Matt, on the other hand, was well on his way to happy town.
All of this was making me miss Hannah even more. By the time we got back to the hotel we were staying at until we found a cheap apartment to rent close by, I decided to give her a call. She was used to late nights anyway, and a text just didn’t seem like enough. I called, but it went right to voicemail.
I shrugged. Maybe she had an early night. Bidding my brother farewell and sending him into his room, I went into mine and tucked in for a few hours’ rest.
30 Hannah
Morning wasn’t particularly my favorite time of day, but that morning took it to another level. I didn’t just wake up feeling like I wished I could sleep longer. Even before my eyes opened, my stomach was turning. It was that kind of nausea that simultaneously made me afraid to move because I never did make it worse, and also afraid I wasn’t going to make it to the bathroom in time.
I was feeling a little odd the night before, but nothing too serious. Now, I felt like my stomach was right on the verge of revolt.
I tried to talk myself out of it. Throwing up was definitely on my list of most hated things.
Within a few moments of waking up, I was scrambling out of bed and rushing for the bathroom. I made it, but not by much of a margin. When the waves of nausea finally ended and I was able to pull myself up from the floor, I leaned over the sink and rinsed my mouth with handful after handful of water from the faucet.
I was feeling less shaky, and I drew in a long breath to further settle my stomach. My body was shaking as I brushed my teeth and tried to figure out what the hell was
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