To Jennifer, this bartender was a perfect way to pass the time and get under Garson’s skin.
Jennifer liked flirting with him, and she hoped to build a slow burn that Garson could walk in on.
For some reason, Jennifer had the appetite for some drama tonight. She made a mental note: stop watching too much reality TV.
Vaughn drifted down the bar to tend to a group of men in polos and boat shoes, but every few seconds his eyes flicked back to her. He couldn’t help it. She was in his crosshairs, and he was ready to fire.
Jennifer pretended she didn’t notice. But she absolutely noticed.
She finished her Violet Crown slowly, playing with the garnish, watching the ice melt. Pretending to be cool.
The bar filled little by little. After-work crowds, couples on dates, clusters of friends, but the stool beside her stayed empty, waiting for Garson like a reserved space at a funeral.
Ten o’clock felt far away.
Vaughn returned, towel slung over his shoulder.
“You ready for another?” he asked.
“You tell me,” Jennifer said. “Do I need another?”
“You need something that keeps you loosened up.”
“Oh?” She smirked. “And why’s that?”
“So you can tell me what you were thinking about when you walked in here dressed like that.”
The sexual tension between the two of them was palpable.
Jennifer didn’t answer, not immediately. She lifted her glass instead, savoring the last drops of the purple-colored drink.
“I was thinking,” she said finally, “that I wanted attention.”
“You got it.”
“I was thinking,” she continued, “I wanted to feel desirable tonight.”
“You are,” Vaughn said. “Trust me.”
“And maybe,” she added, “I was curious what kind of trouble I could find before my boyfriend Garson showed up.”
Vaughn looked away for a moment and repositioned himself before he spoke.
“And did you?” he asked. “Find any trouble?”
“Not yet.” She gave him a smile. “But I’m optimistic.”
His eyes darkened. “Good.”
He took her glass and put it in the bus tub. He went to make her another drink, this time without the revelry of the last drink he made her. Instead, he kept his eyes on her the whole time. Deliberately seducing her.
Jennifer exhaled, letting Vaughn observe her without looking like she cared.
Her phone buzzed.
Garson: Running behind. Might be 10:30. You okay?
She glanced at the screen, then put the phone face down.
Perfect. It would give her time to get something hot going with Vaughn.
When Vaughn set a new drink in front of her, she didn’t reach for it immediately. Instead, she asked him a direct question:
“Do you flirt with all the women who sit here?”
He grinned. “Only the ones who make it fun.”
“And am I fun?”
“You’re trouble. And you know it.” He continued to smile.
“Hmm,” she said. “That sounds dangerous.”
“Not dangerous for me. I can handle it.”
Jennifer took a sip of her drink. “Oh. That’s good.”
“I know.”
“Cocky,” she said.
“Accurate,” he corrected.
She eyed him. He stood close enough that she could smell his cologne. Clean, warm, a hint of something woody. He didn’t wear a name tag; he didn’t need one. Women probably learned his name themselves, so they had something to moan about later.
“So, Vaughn,” she said. “Is flirting the highlight of your evening, or is it something that comes with the service?”
He put his elbows on the bar and leaned into Jennifer. “Lady’s choice. If you want flirting to be the highlight, I can keep this up all night. And if you want the service, I can do that too.”
“Careful,” she murmured. “Someone might get the wrong idea.”
“What idea is that?”
“That you want me.”
He didn’t step back. Didn’t flinch.
“Jennifer,” he said, voice smooth, “that’s not the wrong idea.”
She savored the lingering sexual tension.
Then someone at the end of the bar shouted, “Hey, man, can I get a refill?” The moment was broken.
Vaughn exhaled and pushed off the bar.
“I’ll be back,” he promised.
Jennifer watched him go, taking in the view of his backside.
She thought about what she was doing. Creating a scene for Garson to walk into.
But why? What had gotten into her? She thought about it.
She wanted to put Garson to the test. To see how jealous he could get when the situation called for it.
The moment Vaughn stepped away, Jennifer sighed. She took another sip of her drink, trying to think about what would come next, but she didn’t have time to complete her thought.
The front door of the Ascot swung open.
Garson was on time
Jennifer froze.
He spotted her instantly, and his face lit up until he noticed her outfit. The dress. The heels. The heat. His smile faltered, suspicion settling in. She never dressed like this.
“Babe?” he called, already walking toward the bar.
Jennifer’s pulse jumped.
Vaughn glanced over from the far end and registered everything: the boyfriend, the outfit, the suspicion. The fireworks were about to start, but Vaughn pretended not to be interested. He couldn’t help but square off his shoulders, though, getting ready to step into the fight.
Garson was the first to speak. “You look…” He hesitated, scanning her. “…wow. Really wow. Didn’t know we were doing that tonight.”
Jennifer immediately revved up the conversation, thinking Garson would cave. “You said you were busy. I didn’t dress for you.”
But Garson didn’t fold like usual. Instead, he glossed over her attempt to pick a fight.
“I’m twenty minutes earlier than I expected. I wanted to surprise you.”
Vaughn appeared behind the bar again, wiping his hands on a bar towel like he was ready for whatever came next.
“You must be Garson,” Vaughn said.
Garson turned. “Do I know you?”
“No,” Vaughn said, “but I know your girlfriend’s been waiting.”
Jennifer’s stomach dropped.
Not those words. Not that tone.
Garson stood to his full height. “Excuse me?”
“She’s on her second drink,” Vaughn continued. “She seemed restless.”
Jennifer shot him a look to stop.
He didn’t.
Garson looked at the half-finished glass, then at her, his face set hard. “Restless,” he repeated tightly. “Why’s that?”
“Garson, sit down,” she said, trying to take control.
Garson scoffed. “Unbelievable. I should’ve known. You dress like this, and suddenly every fucking guy thinks—”
Jennifer stood abruptly. “Every guy thinks what, Garson?” she snapped.
He hesitated, and that was his mistake.
“Oh, I know what they think,” Vaughn said under his breath, grabbing a glass to polish. “But you don’t want to hear me say it.”
Garson swung toward him. “Say it.”
“Garson,” Jennifer pleaded, “please stop.”
Vaughn slung the bar towel over his shoulder. Looked Garson right in the eye.
“She came in looking lonely,” he said. “She wanted someone to notice. I noticed.”
The bar went silent.
Jennifer felt a panic attack coming on.
Garson stood his ground. “Is that right?”
Jennifer didn’t like how this was playing out. “This isn’t what it looks like.”
“It’s exactly what it looks like,” Garson said.
“No,” she snapped. “It’s what Vaughn wants it to look like. I promise.”
Vaughn gave a single, dark smile. “If I wanted something, Jennifer, you’d know.”
That did it.
Garson lunged.
He didn’t get far. A big guy sitting next to them at the bar stopped Garson before he could reach Vaughn.
“Hey. Hey. Not in here,” the man barked.
Vaughn moved, not backward but forward, stepping into Garson’s path, maintaining his calm.
“Garson, stop!” Jennifer yelled. This was getting out of hand. “Please!”
He froze at her voice.
People watched from booths, from tables, from corners. A bartender on the other side whispered, “Jesus…”
Jennifer was shaking. “Garson, we are leaving. Now.”
Garson was breathing heavy, but he stayed put.
The big guy stepped away.
Garson glared at Vaughn one last time, fists at his side, ready to pop.
And Vaughn?
He didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. He just smiled faintly and murmured:
“Come back again sometime.”
Jennifer grabbed Garson’s arm. “We are done here.”
She yanked him toward the door before he could start again.
The second the night air hit them, she let go of his arm.
“Don’t touch me,” she said.
Garson stared at her, stunned.
“This isn’t me,” he whispered. “You know it isn’t me.”
Jennifer wrapped her arms around herself. The adrenaline was wearing off, and reality was setting in.
“No,” she said quietly. “It’s not like you at all. I enjoyed seeing you in action.”
“I don’t know what’s going on here, but when I call you, you’d better pick up.”
Garson got into his BMW and peeled off.
Inside, the bar activity resumed, as if nothing untoward had happened. Conversations resumed, Vaughn got back to work, and the big guy said, “Way to go, Vaughn!”
Jennifer stood outside the Ascot for a little while after Garson stormed off. The night air cooled her off, and after she felt relaxed, she cleared her head so she could assess the situation. She surprised herself by feeling pleased at Vaughn and Garson’s behavior. She was the center of attention, and she enjoyed it. She knew Garson would get over it, though. That was a problem.
She turned back toward the bar.
She shouldn’t go in. She knew that.
But Jennifer wanted to keep things going with Vaughn.
She pushed open the door.
Vaughn looked up from behind the bar.
And when he saw her, he smiled.
Not the charming, playful bartender smile he’d used earlier.
Not the smug, provoking one he’d used on Garson.
This one was intentional. Like he had expected her to return.
Like he’d been waiting.
Jennifer walked toward the bar with more confidence than she felt. When she sat, Vaughn already had a fresh napkin out.
“No boyfriend this time?”
But it wasn’t a question.
Jennifer let out a long breath. “He went home to cool off.”
That was a lie.
“Did he? Why didn’t you follow?”
He made her another Violet Crown and slid it in front of her.
“Trying to get me drunk?”
“No,” Vaughn said. “Trying to reclaim the mood.”
He was studying her. “I didn’t lie earlier. You did look restless. And you walked out with someone who doesn’t know how to handle you.”
A flush crawled up her neck.
“You came back because you weren’t finished here.” Vaughn looked her directly in the eye. “And I know you like attention from a man who doesn’t bore you to death.”
“Vaughn, don’t.”
“But if any of that is wrong,” he murmured, “tell me to stop.”
But she didn’t tell him to stop.
Instead, she whispered, “I’m getting rid of Garson.”
“But he stood up for you,” Vaughn admitted.
“You think I’m using him?” she asked.
“No. I think you’re stirring up trouble. I like that in a woman.”
He put his hand over hers for a moment. Squeezed it.
Jennifer had calmed down. “You started that fight.”
“No,” Vaughn said. “He started it when he walked in, acting as if he owned you.”
A small smile.
“I just let him know he didn’t.”
“I thought he was going to hit you. Weren’t you the least bit intimidated?”
“It’s not the first time.” Vaugh shrugged.
The bar buzzed around them, but they didn’t notice it.
She leaned in slightly to get closer to him. “You’re awfully confident for a bartender.”
“You’re awfully flustered for a woman who said she just came here to wait.”
Jennifer felt her cheeks getting hot.
“Tell me to stop,” he whispered.
She couldn’t. She didn’t.
Instead, she reached for the drink he poured her and threw it back.
“Pour me another,” she said, voice low, “and we’ll see what happens.”
Vaughn’s smile deepened—dark, satisfied, hungry.
And he poured.