Shaken or Stirred, page 7
She set her glass down, picked up the stick with the olives, and pulled one off with her teeth, chewed it as she watched Julia work. When Julia approached them to see if they wanted refills, her eyes locked with Savannah’s. Deep. Intense.
Oh yeah, she wanted to get to know this woman. Maybe not here, maybe not tonight, but soon.
Very soon.
Chapter Five
Julia wouldn’t leave her head.
Or her body, apparently, judging by the flutters and pangs of arousal that coursed through Savannah most of Friday morning and well into the afternoon. It was like Julia had taken up residence. Packed up her things and moved right in, setting up in a corner of Savannah’s brain and making herself at home there.
Savannah’s fantasy life was evidently way richer than she’d thought, as she’d had lots and lots of visions of doing very naughty things with Hot Bartender in a multitude of locations. In bed—of course, on her couch—duh, in the car—interesting, on the kitchen counter—that was new, on Mr. Davidson’s couch…
Hold up.
Savannah shook her head. No, she did not need to be thinking about sex stuff in the house of a sweet widower that wanted her to read his John Grisham library book to him.
Stop that right this second.
Her brain only half agreed. The fantasies kept playing in her head, but at least she and Julia were back in her bed. Whew.
She spent an hour reading to Mr. Davidson as he relaxed in his favorite recliner. On the verge of falling asleep, he made an obvious effort to keep listening but eventually succumbed. Savannah put the bookmark in and closed the novel, then took a moment to just watch him. He reminded her of her great-grandfather who’d passed away when she was just a kid. His snowy white hair, the soft, papery skin on his hands—she remembered being fascinated by that skin. She’d loved to sit in his lap and rub the back of his hand, let her small fingertips follow the blue lines of his veins. She didn’t remember a lot of detail about him, just that one, and that he was very kind. He had soft, friendly eyes. Mr. Davidson was a lot like that, and she wished he wasn’t alone. Before she started worrying about him and how his kids never called or visited him, she heard a car door slam outside, and she knew her relief had arrived. She did a little internal dance because that meant she got to leave soon, and she had a plan. Oh, did she have a plan.
She gathered her things and gave her replacement a rundown on how the day had gone, what Mr. Davidson ate, when he’d slept, and what medications he’d had. On her way to her car, her phone pinged a text. Tiffany.
Wanted u to know I’m thinking about u. And if she says no, no big deal. At least you’ll know. Alternating smileys and hearts followed the words.
That was a lot of nos. She sent the text with a kiss-blowing emoji, plugged the phone into the car, and started it.
Just a quick stop. That’s all it was going to be. Pop into Martini’s. Ask Julia if she’d have dinner with her sometime. Pop back out, no matter the answer.
Except Savannah had never asked anybody out before.
A sobering thought. She’d always been asked, which she hadn’t realized until the previous night when she’d made the decision with Tiffany’s help—or prodding, which was a more accurate description. But she was going to do it. The way she was drawn to Julia? That thing that literally felt like some kind of magnetic pull? She’d never felt that before, and Tiffany was adamant that it meant something, that she shouldn’t ignore it. According to Tiff, the Universe was trying to tell her something.
But the Universe wasn’t always kind. Savannah knew that from experience.
She gave her head a quick shake, sending that thought away. No, she wasn’t going down that road. She was happy. Excited. And she was going to hold on to that.
It wasn’t a long drive. Maybe twenty minutes. The parking lot had plenty of open spaces, which was good for Savannah, but maybe not so good for the bar itself.
A quick fold-down of the visor, and she was examining her hair, gave it a pat, a fluff, brushed a couple of baby hairs back into place. She usually put it in a ponytail for work to keep it out of the way, but she’d worn it down today because she knew she was stopping in at Martini’s right from work—if she’d gone home to change and primp, that would’ve given her too much time to talk herself out of what she was about to do. She knew herself pretty well, so she’d removed that possibility altogether, dressed in nice jeans and a cute, lightweight yellow sweater, worn a little extra makeup that she touched up now, left her blond hair down, and gone to work.
And now work was over, and it was time.
It was time.
“You got this,” she whispered to her reflection. A nod. A big inhale. A loud exhale.
Savannah got out of her car and headed inside.
Martini’s was its usual bar-interior dim, and she stood inside the door as it closed quietly behind her, waiting for her eyes to adjust. Walking into a bar alone wasn’t her favorite thing to do because everybody turned to see who was coming in, and Martini’s was no different. Only a handful of people sat at the bar, but they all turned to look at Savannah, and she felt the heat crawl up her neck. Her ears were probably red. Terrific. Such a good look, those flaming ears.
Forcing herself to keep her head up rather than watching the floor as she walked toward the bar wasn’t easy, but she remembered Tiff’s pep talk from the previous night about being confident, and she did her best to focus on the words. Before she could take a step, though, a voice called out to her.
“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”
Across the dark floor of the bar, not so far away at all, stood Julia. Behind the bar, hands on its surface and a white rag under one of them, bracing herself as she leaned slightly forward. Smile on her face and the slightest twinkle in her eye.
The surge of confidence that seeing Julia gave her took Savannah by complete and utter surprise. Like she’d gotten a shot of adrenaline and it rushed through her bloodstream. With quick steps, she crossed the floor and stopped in front of Julia. She didn’t sit, and that made their height difference a bit more obvious, Julia with an advantage of a good three or four inches.
“Hi,” Julia said, that smile in place, those dimples on display. She looked genuinely happy to see her. “You look amazing. I love that color on you.”
Savannah’s ears got hotter, and she was thankful her hair was down to, hopefully, cover them, at least a little. “Thank you. So do you.”
Julia looked down at herself and laughed through her nose. “I’m wearing the same thing every time you see me.”
“You wear it very well.”
“Well, thanks.” Was it Julia that was blushing now? It was hard to tell in the dim lighting, but Savannah was pretty sure Julia’s cheeks had tinted pink. She could see it even on the olive tone of her skin.
Okay. Get to it. In and out.
“Listen, I can’t stay—” Savannah began.
“That’s a shame,” Julia said, and one hip jutted to the side as—Was that a pout? Was she actually pouting a little?
“But I wanted to ask you something.” She was interrupted by the ringing of her phone and closed her eyes in embarrassment. “Sorry.” She pulled the phone out from her back pocket, saw Chelsea’s name on the screen, and declined the call. “My sister,” she said to Julia in explanation. “I wanted to ask you…and it’s totally okay if you say no. No pressure. No hard feelings—”
The phone rang again.
“Dammit,” Savannah muttered. Chelsea again. Declined again. “I’m so sorry.” She set the phone on the bar, determined to give Julia her full focus. She puffed out a small breath, looked into those deep, dark eyes, and almost let herself get lost in them before remembering what she was doing. “Would you be at all interested in having dinner with me sometime?” Her phone pinged. A text this time. Savannah closed her eyes again but didn’t check the screen. “Or it doesn’t have to be dinner. Lunch? Coffee?” She waited as Julia continued to stand there. Continued to hold her gaze. Continued to smile.
The phone pinged again. And again. Both she and Julia looked down at it. Three texts in a row from Chelsea.
Answer your phone
Where are u?
I need u NOW
“Two things,” Julia said, pulling Savannah’s gaze back to her. “One, you’d better call her.” She pointed at the phone with her chin. “And two, I’d love to have dinner with you.”
“You would?” The shock in Savannah’s voice had to be clear on her face. She was pretty sure. It was in that moment that she realized she hadn’t actually expected Julia to say yes. A gentle, easy letdown was what she’d prepared for without even realizing it. “Wow. That’s…that’s great.”
“Here.” Julia reached out and wiggled her fingers until Savannah handed over her phone. Then she typed on it a bit and gave it back. “Now you have my cell. Text me, okay?”
A goofy grin, plastered on her face. She just knew it. Could actually feel it, feel the goofy. “Okay. I will.”
“Good. Now go call your sister before your phone explodes. Or her head does.”
“Could go either way,” Savannah said with an eye roll. “I’ll text you soon.”
“I look forward to it.”
As Savannah took a couple backward steps—she couldn’t seem to pull her gaze away from the gorgeous sight in front of her—Julia gave her a little wave, tossed a rag over her shoulder, and turned to a customer who needed a refill.
Once outside the bar and back into the sunshine, she dialed Chelsea’s number.
“Where are you?” was the way Chelsea answered, but Savannah kept herself from lashing out, from asking why the hell she’d made a nuisance of herself, because her little sister’s voice held an unfamiliar tremor.
When their mother had died, Savannah swore to God she’d left her maternal instincts with her older daughter, and they kicked in now, because she knew instantly that there was a problem. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Can you come over?”
“Yeah. Of course. Ten minutes, okay?”
“Okay.” That last word was just a whisper, and then Chelsea hung up.
Something was definitely wrong.
* * *
“Well. That was unexpected,” Julia whispered to herself as the bar door shut behind Savannah. The grin on her face seemed to have a mind of its own, refusing to leave, just…staying. Hanging out. She served drinks on autopilot, having surface-level conversations with customers, laughing at their jokes, popping tips into the tip jar behind her, but all the while, a blond-haired, blue-eyed, very sexy woman floated around in her mind.
“She was fucking hot, huh?”
That came from Chris Norton, the customer who had turned into a regular over the course of a few days. She was nice enough but could be a little crude, and Julia found herself accepting that behavior simply because she was a woman. It was interesting to her how differently she treated women versus men when they exhibited the same crass behavior.
“Friend of yours?” Chris asked when Julia didn’t respond.
Thankful for the question because it likely meant Chris hadn’t actually heard the conversation, Julia nodded. With a gentle smile, she said, “She is. Maybe we can be a bit more respectful?”
A zap of surprise shot across Chris’s face before she blushed a little bit under her makeup and nodded. “Oh, yeah. Of course. Sorry about that. She was really pretty was all I meant.”
“She’s definitely that,” Julia agreed, her eyes tracking back to the front door. When it opened, she was almost sure it would be Savannah coming back in, having changed her mind about needing to rush away.
Instead, the sales rep for a local microbrewery arrived for their appointment, and Julia waved to him, directed him to grab the table in the corner, and said she’d be right with him. Clea would be arriving any time now to take over bartending, and she was pleased to see some after-work folks beginning to trickle in. Her back pocket vibrated then, and she pulled out her phone to see a text from Amelia. Still on for tonight?
Yes! she typed back quickly. Julia was having dinner with her two cousins in the back room that night, and she was looking forward to it. She’d talked them into meeting at the bar instead of going out or to one of their houses, because she knew she’d be able to get a little work done as they ate and chatted, which they’d probably give her some shit about, but she could take it. Her free time was very limited, but she always wanted to see them.
“Hey, boss,” Clea said from behind her, pulling her back into the present. “Looks like it’s picking up. Wonder if that blog helped.”
“That would be nice, wouldn’t it?” The local entertainment guide had a blog called Northwood Nightlife, and the anonymous columnist had given Martini’s a favorable write-up that week. Which was awesome and thrilled Julia, but what she actually wanted to say was what was in her head: It better be picking up—it’s Friday. She kept the words to herself and simply smiled at Clea. The last thing she wanted to do was let her employees know that the business was doing okay, but just okay. She planned to spend some time over the weekend looking into new marketing ideas. Which would likely turn into more spend-money-to-make-money steps, but she needed to do something. She’d been reopened nearly two months and wasn’t doing much better than the bar had been doing when her uncle owned it and it was still stuck in the eighties.
As she turned the reins over to Clea and came out from behind the bar to meet with her microbrewer, the front door opened, and she stopped in her tracks. Blinked in shock.
“Hey, Pop,” she finally stammered out, as she forced her feet to move and crossed to him. She kissed him on the cheek. “What are you doing here?”
He was looking around, his dark eyes taking everything in, probably all the changes, Julia thought. He was dressed in his usual jeans and short-sleeved button-down gray shirt with Martini’s Garage on one side and a white oval patch that read Vinnie on the other. He’d obviously come straight from work, and he smelled like the DL hand cleaner he’d used forever—clean, a little like oil and grease—but it was a scent she loved because it reminded her of him and how she used to try to play with it, scooping the creamy waterless cleaner out of its tub and rubbing it into her hands like she’d seen him do, though her young mind couldn’t comprehend how it actually cleaned them.
“I came to have a beer.” He said it so matter-of-factly that it took her off-guard, made her stand there and just blink at him. “Kinda fancy in here now. All shiny and new.”
She found her voice. Nodded. “I made a lot of upgrades. I like the bar being rectangular and in the center. More space for seating and it’s easier for customers to order drinks. New paint. New stools. New shelving. What do you think? Do you like it?”
Before he could answer, a voice cut through the air.
“Vinnie Martini. Holy shit. That you?” It came from the far corner of the bar where an older man had been sitting for an hour or so. He came in often but kept to himself.
“Dougie?” Her father left her without answering her question and crossed to the bar. “Dougie Schute? Jesus Christ, man, how you doin’?” They shook hands and were instantly caught up in reminiscing.
Julia thought about following him. Thought about introducing herself to Dougie Schute as both the owner of the bar and as Vinnie’s only daughter, but something held her back. Fear? Concern? Shame? She couldn’t put a finger on it and, to be honest, didn’t really want to try. Her father loved her. She knew he did. But between her gayness and her decision to run a bar, she didn’t exactly fit into the box labeled Woman he expected her to. She never had, and that had made getting both his attention and his approval nearly impossible.
She never stopped trying, though. Which often felt like self-punishment…at least that’s what Vanessa would say, but whatever. It was simply life to Julia.
She caught Clea’s eye, saw that she’d put two Cokes on the bar, and walked over to get them. Then she pointed her chin at her father and mouthed my father, silently telling Clea that he drank free of charge. It wasn’t until she was carrying the Cokes to the table to finally meet with her very patient microbrewer that she remembered what had happened earlier.
A super sexy blond woman had asked her to dinner.
More importantly, she’d said yes.
There were a million reasons why she probably shouldn’t have, most of those having to do with her ridiculously busy schedule. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that she was going to text Savannah later and retract her acceptance of the invitation. But not yet. Right now? She was going to bask in her original thought.
A super sexy blond woman had asked her to dinner.
And she’d said yes.
* * *
Dina’s old, beat-up, baby-blue Volvo was parked in the McNally driveway when Savannah arrived. From what she knew, Dina had a job as a nutritionist, but she didn’t ever seem to go to work. Apparently, she worked with most of her clients online, which made sense, she guessed, but every time Savannah visited her father’s house and that damn Volvo was there, she would clench her teeth and grind out, “Don’t you ever work?” to nobody.
Fine. It was fine. Savannah wasn’t going to let that bring her down because of one simple fact: Julia had said yes to her dinner invitation. She said yes. Savannah was still a little bit in shock, still smiling as she parked out front, got out of her car, and approached the front door. The smile slid right off her face, though, as the door opened, and Chelsea stepped out, grabbed Savannah by the hand, and pulled her inside.
“What in—” Savannah’s words were cut off by Chelsea’s hand slapping over her mouth.
“Shh!” she whispered. “Come with me.” Chelsea tugged her quickly up the stairs and into her bedroom, where she shut the door, locked it, then turned and stood with her back against it. “Sit.”
