Chapter One #2
No expense had been spared, as if Edmund Clayton III had been channeling his inner Vanderbilt when he’d approved the plans.
Earlier in the evening, she’d seen Edmund, his father, uncle and sister, Eva, moving about like local celebrities during the grand opening festivities.
But Lexi wasn’t working any of the bars in the ballroom or even the one on the terrace.
As one of the newer bartenders, and because she was still in training, tonight she unloaded boxes and manned Esprit, which admittedly had seen zero patrons since everyone was at the gala.
The bar, while open, was an afterthought, which was why her boss had assigned her this venue.
Despite her confidence, she was the newest hired.
Using the bar towel, Lexi wiped down the glossy, polished wood surface normally covered by drinks. Best to be prepared. One never knew when someone might wander in.
Like him. The most gorgeous man with shoulder-length hair her fingers itched to run through slid onto the bar stool. She felt the impact of his wide smile in her knees. “What can I get you?”
“One finger Old Forester 1910. Neat.”
“Good choice.” One rule of bartending she’d been taught at the Grand—make the customer feel valued and smart by offering a compliment.
Not that she’d ever sampled the bourbon he chose.
Lexi rarely drank what she poured. She retrieved the bottle and grabbed a short glass.
As she slid over his drink, she gave him what she hoped passed for a professional smile.
He was good-looking in that rugged, sporty kind of way, as if he might be a professional athlete of some sort.
He had wavy hair, with those blonder highlights that were caused by the sun, not the salon.
He wore the style longer, to the nape of his neck.
Maybe he was a musician. No, she decided.
He wasn’t. She’d met enough of them to know their vibe.
His was completely different. He had an innate confidence of someone who knew exactly who he was and what he wanted.
Firm, strong fingers lifted the glass. He had the kind of hands with blunt, real nails that were clean but not manicured weekly.
As he sipped, she worked to calm a heart that shouldn’t be racing because of a sexy voice, a smooth, chiseled chin, or smoldering gray eyes.
Guests were off-limits, even if he’d melted her insides.
Besides, at this point in her life, the last thing she needed was Mr. Hot and Steamy.
She wanted Mr. Nice Guy, not someone who wore innate, let-me-take-you-to-bed sexiness like a second skin.
She wanted Mr. Slow and Steady, not Mr. Fast and Furious.
Or Mr. Settle Down, not Mr. Set Me on Fire.
She had no idea if the man seated in front of her was any of those things, but it didn’t matter. What was that old saying? Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.
Once around the block in a long-term personal and business relationship with Mr. Wrong had sent Lexi scampering for the anonymity of Beaumont, a town one of her so-called “friends” had mentioned in passing.
After doing some online research, Lexi had decided to give Beaumont a try.
The historic small town located outside of St. Louis was Lexi’s second chance, a way to disappear into the woodwork, a place to start fresh.
A place for metamorphosis, same as the Chateau, which had risen from an old farm field.
She’d literally shed her persona. Become someone new.
That’s who’d poured Mr. Dreamy’s bourbon and who watched his throat move as he sipped.
“Is it always this slow in here?” He had a rough voice, the kind that sent those cliché shivers down a woman’s spine.
Maintaining outward control, her shoulders rose and fell in a tiny, nonchalant shrug.
Bartenders were chameleons, becoming servers, companions, therapists and nurturers depending on what the person sitting on the stool needed.
“Actually, it’s usually very busy, but most guests are here for the gala.
It’s a whole weekend worth of events, you know. ”
He pointed toward the nearly full bottle sitting near her right hand. “Since it’s just us in here, pour yourself a glass. Keep me company. Put it on my tab.”
“I’m not able to drink with guests.” Which was the truth. “Even if it’s an open bar like it is tonight.” Also the truth. “Hotel policy, you know.” And her personal one.
“A pity.” He pushed the empty glass toward her, which she refilled. “I hate drinking alone.”
“There’s an entire party full of people drinking in the ballroom.”
His lip curled as he lowered his glass. “Yeah, that’s the last place I want to be.”
“Forgive me if I don’t understand why but—” She grabbed a glass, filled it with club soda and took a sip.
“Glamorous people. Delicious food. At least it looked good.” Her stomach rumbled its protest for missing dinner.
Cheese and crackers purchased from a vending machine didn’t quite cut it, and her body wanted more than the club soda she drank to settle her stomach.
He motioned with his left hand, indicating her middle. “Do you want me to go get you a plate? The food’s pretty good.”
Heat rose in her cheeks. He’d heard her stomach growl. “I’m fine but thank you. I’m off soon. But surely you’d have more fun inside.”
“That’s what my sister implied. But that party is like being in a lake filled with piranhas. I might not get out alive. I hate these things.”
“Then why are you here?” She was genuinely curious.
His mouth twisted wryly. “Family. Decided to keep the harmony, so here I am in this monkey suit.”
“I can understand family expectations.” Her entire childhood consisted of constant family pressure to perform.
And she had, caving to her father’s will until six months ago, when she’d walked off the job.
In a surprise move, she’d engaged lawyers and drained her entire bank account to buy out her contract.
Melynda Norfolk was no more. Lexi could still hear her father’s scathing words of “You’ll never amount to anything again.
” She focused and pointed at Mr. Beautiful’s glass. “Another round?”
“I’m good. Two’s plenty after the champagne toasts from earlier.”
Since she’d helped unpack and ice the bottles, Lexi knew what he’d had had been actual champagne, not sparkling wine.
Champagne could be labeled such only if it came from the region in France that gave the bubbly its name.
The gala had served attendees both Dom Pérignon and Cristal, another indication that no expense had been spared.
The rest of the wine had come from the Clayton Holdings wineries located in both Washington State and Beaumont, Missouri.
Since her customer was finished, Lexi reached for the whiskey glass at the same time he pushed it toward her. As they touched, electricity coursed through her veins, and nerve-endings short-circuited into delicious tingles. “Sorry about that.”
A sexy eyebrow arched and a hint of a grin spread. “What, the zing? Most fun I’ve had in a while, and especially the most fun I’ve had tonight.”
The burst of flirty smile was as tempting as a swimming pool on a hot day, and her mouth dried to paste as her gaze traced over his tux.
He’d loosened the bow tie. His sexy presence made her want things.
It tempted her to violate the hotel’s no fraternization with coworkers and guests policy.
She purposely kept her voice light and her demeanor casual.
“Then it’s clear you should get out more. ”
“You’re right. Maybe I should.” He stood and dropped a fifty on the bar top. “Thanks for good conversation. Have a nice night.”
“Good night, and try to have some fun,” she called after him, earning a back hand wave.
As if willing him to turn around, she watched him leave.
He never looked back and soon the bar was empty again.
She pocketed the money and wiped down the place his drink had rested.
Probably for the best. He was a temptation she didn’t need.
Ever since she’d walked off the set six months ago, after finishing Damon and Melynda’s latest music video, she’d had one goal—to live a normal life.
Bartending was a means to an end. Five months ago, when she’d arrived in Beaumont, she’d lucked into having a great teacher over at the Beaumont Grand.
Tania Gulledge had taken a chance and hired a girl with no experience.
Tania had promised Lexi that should she work hard, the lead bartender would teach her everything she needed to know about serving drinks and keeping customers happy.
Tania, who hadn’t wanted to move to the smaller-sized Chateau, had taught Lexi that people had different reasons for sitting in a bar.
Some wanted to socialize. Some wanted entertainment.
Some wanted to simply de-stress, while others didn’t want to feel alone, or go home to an empty house.
Under Tania’s instruction, Lexi had mastered the art of knowing exactly how to provide what a client needed besides booze, all while maintaining an arm’s distance.
She had no idea what the previous guest had wanted, minus an escape from the party.