Page 49 of Bastard Bartender

Chapter Thirteen

When you’re a woman with a vast interest in love, you tend to read the writing on the wall with rose-colored glasses.

Case in point: Richard.

He looks cute in his khakis, is corny enough to be fun, and has the stability of the man I’m looking for. He’s handsome and humble and … oh-so very boring.

There, I said it.

I know; I know. I am swearing off bad boys because they’re just no good for me. But while I am in the market for someone with a good head on his shoulders, it wouldn’t kill him to be a little adventurous.

Hours after Nic carelessly launched himself off the cliff, I happened to be on a date with Richard. I told him about the scene, and he couldn’t believe Nic would be so careless. He talked about trajectories and how most people miscalculate them, pummeling into rocks and gorges, and by the time the geometry lesson was over, I realized this just wasn’t working.

I have eight men left to meet, and I desperately hope one of them has the excitement I yearn for.

That at least one of them has a tinge of Nic in them.

I don’t want Nic—at least, I don’t think I do. I know he doesn’t want someone so that helps me feel that way. Sure, I think he’s hot as all hell, but he’s too much of a loose cannon. What I need is someone in between. Someone steady yet willing to take a leap when needed. Someone like—

“I have something to talk to you about.”

I look up at Tom as he strolls into my office. His movements are quick as he zips in, placing his hands on his hips and looking smug.

“You’re standing like Captain Underpants.”

He checks out his posture and relaxes, laughing lightly as he states, “I applied for the job in New York.”

My heart plummets to my stomach. My brows are arched, and there’s a heavy feeling of righteously pissed off in my gut. He was in this room not too long ago, telling me how awesome Vegas was and pretty much convincing me not to go for the job when, really, he is the one who has been vying for it the whole time.

“What did you do?” I ask rather snidely.

He doesn’t take my facial cue because his smile just grows bigger. He lowers his forehead and looks back at me with a grin. “For the both of us. I applied for the job in New York for us as a team. Now, I don’t want to get ahead of myself, but there is a huge hole in the department at MSG, and when I presented our resume, they were more than impressed. I just got off the phone with the management team, and they had some questions. I had to make it seem like you knew I put you on the proposal, so I lied to them, and … they love us! I think there’s a chance we could get it!”

My spine stiffens at this news. I’m fairly new to the business, so getting the job was a long shot. Tom, on the other hand, has about seven years on me here and the experience. I should be grateful he included me on his pitch instead of trying for it on his own.

On the other hand, I like that I’ve been building a name for myself. If I partner with Tom for my next career move, I’ll be tethered to him for the rest of my time in the industry. And going behind my back was a really sneaky move.

“It feels a little weird how you applied on my behalf.”

“You said you were interested, and it got me thinking that New York for a few years could be an amazing experience. We make a great team, and I just can’t bear to work with anyone else. This could be the big break we need to launch our long-term careers.”

While I’m kind of pissed he did this behind my back, I am pleasantly surprised it’s a possibility. I suppose I should look at the positive and go with what the universe is offering. Besides, it might not actually happen.

“Tom, this is wonderful. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. They’re gonna email you with some questions and forms they need filled out. This is a good sign. We’re in the contender stage.”

He leans over my desk with his hand up, and I high-five him. We’re both laughing and smiling as he walks out.

I sit back in my seat, tapping my pen on my lips. I feel the need to celebrate, and I have just the idea.

I pick up my phone to text Nic.

How do you feel about a midday champagne toast?

Oh, hell yes! What are we celebrating?

Nothing yet. Just want to get out of the office early.