with the promise of a good time. Jasmine, he thought, and slid a glass of wine in front of her. “You’re looking lovely tonight. Why aren’t there five guys angling to buy you a drink?” It wasn’t the most creative line in the world, but he wasn’t looking to pick her up, he only wanted her to like his bar.
Tessa walked behind him and slapped him on the butt, and he didn’t even stop as he reached for a clean glass. “Don’t mind her. She’s madly in love, but I keep telling her no.”
Tessa muttered something incomprehensible but most likely insulting and then went back to work on the other side.
Eventually Jasmine moved on, to be replaced by Cosmopolitan Amy, Banana Daiquiri Lauren, Kamikaze Rachel, Cosmopolitan Vicki and, for one short moment, Wild Turkey Todd. The hours flew by, as they always did on a busy night, and Gabe never broke a sweat.
There were a few interventions, just as there always were. Two fake IDs, one male patron who decided that Lindy needed to show more cleavage and a couple of Red Sox fans who didn’t understand that when in Yankees territory you better keep your mouth shut or get doused in beer. Typical but never boring.
Eventually the clock struck midnight and the crowds thinned to something less than chaos. Out of the corner of his eye Gabe noticed Cain handing Seth a twenty at the back bar, which meant only one thing. There was a new bar pool on the bulletin board downstairs.
Gabe took the stairs to the basement, where the kitchen/office/storage/bathrooms were located, as well as the betting board. Sure enough, a white sheet of paper was tacked up with a grid of numbers and letters. Nothing to indicate the bet, though. When would they learn the right way to run a pool? Amateurs.
While he was enjoying the calm, Gabe began breaking down beer cases, and soon Cain was downstairs, adding a new square to the grid. Cain was quiet and bulky, a New York fireman who bartended on the weekend in order to survive. You’d think they’d pay men better to risk their lives by running into burning buildings, but no. Gabe didn’t mind, because he judged every man by how fast he could mix a martini, and Cain was almost as good as Tessa. Almost.
“What’s the bet?” Gabe asked.
“You don’t want to know,” said Cain loading a rack of glasses through the dishwasher.
“Yeah, I do.”
“It was all Sean’s idea.”
Which wasn’t encouraging. “What’s the bet?”
“How long you and Tessa can last.”
“As roommates?”
“Before you have sex.”
Gabe felt a punch in his head not unlike being clocked with a two-by-four. “You’re joking with me, right?”
Cain looked at him blandly. “No. Want to put some money down?”
Gabe swallowed. There were women that Gabe had sex with and women Gabe didn’t have sex with. In his head, Gabe had long ago covered Tessa’s body with a habit and a veil and pushed any sort of sweaty, thrusting thoughts far, far away. She’d come to New York still wearing the scars from her last relationship. In four years you’d think she’d have recovered—but, no, you’d be wrong. Tessa wasn’t like other women. She had her own set of goals, her own strange focus in life, and men weren’t a part of it, which was why she was the only woman he’d ever consider as a roommate, and only because of said habit and veil. When you lived with Mother Teresa, it wasn’t hard to keep things platonic.
However, right now it was past midnight and Gabe had been the recipient of four pairs of panties, seventeen phone numbers and assorted sexual propositions and, okay, he was a little wired.
It always happened as the night wore on. No big deal.
Gabe mentally clothed Tessa back in the habit, ordered his hard-on back in the bag, and pasted an easy smile on his face.
“You guys didn’t say anything to Tessa, did you?”
“You’re kidding, right? She put down a bet.”
Oh, God. The habit and veil were slowly being peeled away, but Gabe kept that damned smile on his face. “Poor kid, I’ll have to let her down easy. How long did she think she’d last?”
“Hell Freezes Over. Last entry, right here.” Cain pointed to the board where HFO was neatly penned in black ink.
“She said that?”
“Her exact words weren’t ambiguous, but you got a fragile ego. So you gonna bet? The pot’s almost three grand.”
Gabe continued to break down boxes with an amazing amount of compressed energy. “I won’t encourage morally bankrupt games of chance in my bar.”
“What about the Super Bowl pool, March Madness, the Subway series and last month’s bet on which patron was most likely to get breast enhancements?”
That one lapse in judgment had cost Gabe a sweet thousand dollars. And who knew that the Yankees would actually choke in the bottom of the ninth? “Shut up, Cain.”
“I have to go upstairs. Lindy can’t cover the bars alone.”
“Tessa’s gone? I wanted to talk to her before she went home.”
Cain shrugged. “Her shift was over. She left. If you run, you could probably catch her before she hits the subway station.”
Gabe bit back a curse and headed out into the long, lonely darkness that was Manhattan at the midnight hour. The outside air was cool and crisp and felt marvelous after being cooped up in the bar for so long. He broke into a run simply because he needed to move.
Around the corner and down two flights of stairs was the station, occupied by the usual patrons. A group of late-night partygoers trying to find their way back to Jersey. A mediocre saxophone player blowing out what was supposed to be the blues. A few kids heading home. A set of foreign tourists taking pictures. And, yes, there was Tessa, standing alone, waiting for the train.
“Why do you always do this? You know that one of us is supposed to walk you down here.”
“I haven’t needed supervision after dark since Giuliani was mayor, Gabe. Besides, I got my mace. They know not to mess with me.”
“Still.”
“What are you really here for?” she asked him quite patiently. That was Tessa. Never out of sorts. His gaze skimmed over her, checking for some sort of weakness, but there wasn’t any, which for some reason always surprised him.
Not that she was hard. Oh, no, Tessa was all cotton and smiles, but she held herself back, one step between her and the rest of the male world. Gabe included.
However, there was something oddly vulnerable about the whacked brown hair that had never seen a decent cut juxtaposed against the model-sharp cheekbones that could cut glass. Like a painting half-done or a bridge half-built.
A work in progress. That was Tessa, too.
Her summer-green eyes look tired, but she was bouncing back and forth on the soles of her running shoes, still full of energy, going home to an
