Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 20818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 104(@200wpm)___ 83(@250wpm)___ 69(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 20818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 104(@200wpm)___ 83(@250wpm)___ 69(@300wpm)
Flirting is not in my natural skillset, and having him this close turns my brain to Jell-O. “Thank you,” I blurt out the first words that come to mind.
Someone at the end of the bar catches his attention, and the hot bartender gives them a chin nod before turning back to me with regret shining in his dark brown eyes. “Excuse me for a moment. I’ll catch up with you a little later, kitty.” His promise sends electricity coursing down my spine.
“It’s Kat,” I remind him.
“I know.” He winks at me before turning to serve another customer. I take a huge gulp of my drink, hoping to get control of my erratic heartbeat. As he moves to the far end of the bar, I can’t help staring at his profile. With a sharp jawline and perfect cheekbones, he’s the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome.
I sip my drink, savoring the sweet and tart mixture that dances on my tongue. The atmosphere is infectious, and I can feel myself loosening up, just enjoying the moment. Cassidy leans over, her eyes wide with excitement.
“Wow.” She fans herself. “I’m surprised my hair didn’t catch fire from the heat you two were giving off.”
“Uh-huh,” I agree, glancing back at Tony, who’s twirling bottles and chatting with customers like he was born to do it.
Cassidy wiggles her eyebrows at me. “I think the hot vampire wants to take a bite out of you.”
“I’ll let him,” I admit as Cassidy and I make our way to one of the gothic-style fireplaces on the side of the bar to wait for Tony to finish serving the crowd.
“See if you can get us an invite to Scared Shotless. I’ve heard it’s amazing.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
I turn around and see two ghosts dirty dancing under the black and orange disco lights, and realize I’ve stepped into the Twilight Zone. The decorations are perfect for such a quirky bar—cobwebs, faux bats, and pumpkins carved with intricate designs. There’s even a live band playing jazzy, spooky tunes in the corner, adding to the enchanting mood.
Cassidy starts to drag me onto the dance floor, a space alive with costumed guests doing everything from the Thriller to spirited little jigs. I hesitate just a moment, my gaze lingering on Tony, who catches my eye and gives me a little wink.
We dive into the crowd, twirling and spinning, and I let the music wash over me, freeing any lingering nerves. Cassidy was totally right; this is the perfect way to spend a Friday night.
I’m still reeling from the way Tony looks at me like I’m some kind of enchantress who’s just cast a spell. Every time I glance over at the bar, I find his dark eyes following my every movement. It’s flattering, if not a bit intoxicating, and I can't quite shake off the exhilaration of it. There’s something in the air at Trick or Treat, or maybe just something about Tony. It’s unlike anything I’ve experienced before.
The bar is buzzing. Costumed patrons fill the space in all shapes and sizes, from vampires to werewolves to a couple of mummies unwrapping themselves as the night wears on. Someone dressed as Frankenstein is having a dance-off with a witch in the corner, and I catch glimpses of Cassidy flitting about, chatting with every person she meets. That girl could make friends with a wall.
Tony is back at the bar, working his magic, mixing drinks with the kind of effortless charm and flair that I find just as bewildering as it is attractive. I have to admit, I’ve spent more time at this bar tonight than any sane person should, but it’s hard to wander too far when someone like Tony is mixing your drinks.
After several songs, slightly breathless but exhilarated, I make my way back to the bar, needing a refill.
I lean against the bar, watching him pour an emerald green concoction for a customer in a ghoul mask. When he catches my eye, he flashes that killer smile again, the one that I'm pretty sure should be illegal.
He finishes with the ghoul and glides over in my direction with the ease of someone who’s comfortable in any situation.
“Having fun?” he asks as I place my empty glass on the bar.
“I am.” I smile at him. “Can I have a refill, please?”
He takes the glass and stares into my eyes while electricity arcs between us. His eyes turn even darker as they stare into mine. “Anything for you, kitty.”
“Anything?” I bite my bottom lip, searching for the bravery to ask him for a huge favor.
He reaches under the bar to snag an unopened bottle, and the motion catches my attention, mostly because his arms flex ever so temptingly. Then he leans forward, closing the space between us so I can just breathe in the warm, heady musk of him amidst the cinnamon and pumpkin spice smells of the bar. “Anything,” he says, voice low and serious, yet with a playful undercurrent. “You name it.”