Flirty Bartender

The next round of drinks went down easier than it should have—smooth, sweet, and just strong enough to blur the edges around what was happening between them. Bret was still perched on Liam’s lap, legs tucked to one side, heels dangling just inches off the barstool rail. He shifted again, adjusting the corset’s tight boning that dug into his ribs.

And again, his ass rubbed against Liam’s lap.

Liam’s hand twitched on the bar. He reached for his water like it might cool the fire spreading below his belt. It did not.

“Alright,” Bret huffed, grabbing his straw between two fingers and sucking loudly. “If I don’t eat something soon I’m going to pass out in your lap, and not in a sexy way.”

Liam laughed, voice rough. “You sure about that?”

Bret smirked, sloppy and flushed. “I know I look sexy. My sister wouldn’t let me not. She put me in a push-up bra so intense I’m developing a backstory.”

“Well, Brittany,” Liam said, voice dry, “what do you want to eat?”

“Cheese fries,” Bret said firmly, licking his lips as he sat a little heavier in Liam’s lap. “And if there’s bacon on them, I’ll marry you out of gratitude.”

Liam grinned and leaned over the bar, raising two fingers to the bartender. “Cheese fries. Extra bacon.”

Bret smacked his shoulder with a laugh. “You asshole.” He was grinning though, leaning in with his head tipped against Liam’s temple, giggling in a way he wouldn’t normally let himself. The **** had officially taken over the wheel, and it was steering into whatever.

His head swam—no, spun—from the drinks. The sugary cocktails, the shots, the fact that dinner had been six hours ago and all he’d eaten since was a mozzarella stick and about a gallon of his pride.

He shook his head, trying to center himself, but the motion made some of the wig’s hair fall into his eyes. He muttered and tucked it behind his ear, and Liam watched—more than watched.

He stared.

There, dangling from Bret’s ear, was a big silver hoop earring. Liam blinked, startled. He’d forgotten about those.

Bret got his ears pierced in high school. Some dumb dare. He wore studs for a few weeks and then let them close… or so Liam thought. But here they were, full-blown hoops swaying softly as he moved. Feminine. Sexy. Distracting as hell.

Bret caught Liam’s expression and smirked. “What? Never seen a bad bitch accessorize?”

Liam coughed. “Just didn’t know you still had the holes.”

“I don’t half-ass a bet,” Bret said proudly. “And since you’re getting me fries, I’m paying for drinks. We can’t have my fiancé looking like he’s broke.”

Liam burst out laughing. “Oh, so we’re engaged now?”

Bret fluttered his lashes and swirled the straw in his drink. “Depends. You got a ring? Or am I just putting out for snacks?”

Liam choked on his own breath.

Bret adjusted on his lap again, trying to get more comfortable. The corset dug into his sides, and the garters pulled against his thighs. He shifted, side to side, unknowingly sliding back and forth against Liam’s crotch.

Something’s poking me, Bret thought, annoyed, and kept wriggling, trying to reposition himself.

“Dude,” he muttered, glancing over his shoulder. “Move your damn phone or whatever it is. It's digging into my ass.”

Liam didn’t say anything.

Because his phone was on the bar. Still. Face up. Not touching him at all.

He gripped the edge of the stool to keep himself from reacting—to stop from letting out a groan or visibly flinching as Bret kept shifting. Each movement made it worse. Harder. More impossible to ignore.

Just when he thought it couldn’t get worse, Bret casually threw his arm back around Liam’s shoulders and leaned in with a mischievous grin.

“So,” Bret said sweetly, eyes dancing with mischief, “if I was a girl… would you hit it?”

Liam’s brain jammed, mid-gasp, trying to form words—and failed.

Just as something resembling a response started to crawl out of his mouth, Bret snatched a cheese fry loaded with bacon and cheese and shoved it into Liam’s open mouth with a smirk.

“You gotta eat too,” Bret said, wagging a finger. “Keep your energy up if you’re gonna propose again later.”

Liam blinked, chewing slowly, eyes wide.

Bret burst into laughter.

“I’m kidding! Oh my God—your face!” he giggled, covering his mouth, eyes shining. “You looked like someone told you your dick had a warranty and it just expired.”

Liam half-laughed, half-choked on the fry. “I—what the—”

“No, no! Don’t talk with your mouth full!” Bret scolded with mock sternness, pointing at him like a disapproving housewife. “And don’t think I don’t see that little panic in your eyes. This is too much, I know. But hey—these stockings?” He ran a hand lightly down one thigh. “They feel really good. Sexy, even.”

He gave Liam a stern look then—eyes narrowed, lips pursed.

“But you can’t ever tell anyone I said that. Not a soul. I will deny it until I die.”

Liam raised a hand solemnly, still chewing. “I swear.”

“And don’t talk with your mouth full, Jesus,” Bret muttered, grabbing another fry.

Before Liam could respond (or process any of that), the bartender swung by again and set two fresh drinks in front of them with a friendly grin.

“Next round’s on the house,” he said, then leaned in a little closer to Liam. “Look, earlier you said Brittany wasn’t your girlfriend, so I figured hey—worth shooting my shot, right?”

Liam gave a little shrug and grin.

“But, uh…” the bartender continued, chuckling, “yeah. It’s pretty damn clear she is. Sorry if I crossed a line.”

Liam didn’t correct him.

He just let out a low laugh. “No harm done, man.”

The bartender clapped him on the shoulder and walked off to another table.

Bret raised a brow. “What was that about?”

Liam smirked. “Jealous?”

Bret rolled his eyes and reached for his new drink—and froze.

Tucked under the glass, barely hidden by condensation, was a cocktail napkin. Scribbled on it in sharpie was a phone number and the words: Call me if you get bored