It was the third time this month Mason Kopp had seen the attractive blonde in his bar, but today was different. While she normally came in roughly once a month and sat in the back, at the same table even, today she seated herself at the end of the bar. He mixed her drink each time—always the same order; a strawberry lemon drop—but he’d never waited on her. Mason worked the bar while the wait staff helped the seated customers.
He’d purchased the restaurant slash bar with his best friend, Preston, three years ago. They’d agreed that Preston would run the restaurant side of The Viggo and Mason would run the bar. Business was exceptionally good, most of which they credited to the location. The Viggo was perfectly placed on the popular NW 23rd street in Portland, Oregon.
Even though he didn’t have to, Mason liked to work the bar, working it a couple of nights a week. He liked to people-watch, and most who sat at the bar were usually forthcoming about their lives. The things he overheard were enough to make a reality show out of. Tonight, he wondered what her story was. There was something different about her. She always sat alone. Sometimes she brought a book, but mostly she sat with her own thoughts, from what he could tell.
Tuesday nights were the slowest of the week, which was convenient tonight. It meant he had time to weasel a story out of the mysterious woman. After mixing her usual drink, he headed to where she was seated. She was unloading items from her bag; her cellphone and a book that she set on the bar top.
“Strawberry lemon drop, right?” he asked, setting the glass on a napkin and sliding it over to her.
She wasn’t startled, but she looked up with a sorrowful half-smile. “Yes, thank you.”
He waited to see if she would say anything else, but she simply pulled out a credit card, holding it out for him.
“Please keep my tab open.”
Taking the card from her, he glanced down at the name. “Jocelyn Nichols, it’s nice to meet you.”
Her upturned hazel eyes had just a hint of green, and he wondered if the color changed with her mood. Her eyes widened a fraction when their gazes locked. He was happy that he had the chance to see her this close. She was a looker from far away, but up close she was stunning. While he guessed she was in her late thirties, her face didn’t show any signs of a hard life, just some laugh lines and a little crease in her brow as she studied him. Her platinum blonde hair sat perfectly styled at her shoulders. He’d noticed her petite frame and lean body from the times she’d been in before, always wearing dresses and heels. Designer if he had to guess. Not that he was familiar with the designers, but he knew class when he saw it.
“What’s your name?” she asked with a bland tone.
“Mason.”
“Nice to meet you too, Mason.”
He must have made her uncomfortable, because she looked down and started to twist the martini glass in a nervous manner.
“I guess you knowing my drink makes me a regular?”
“Nothing bad about that. It saves you time from having to order.” He gave her a cheeky grin.
“Time. Huh…” She gave a heavy sigh, lifting her glass in a pitiful toast before taking a drink.
Her mood was bringing him down, and for some reason he felt it was his duty to pull a smile out of that solemn face of hers. He hoped he was as charming as he had been told he was.
“As a bartender, I can read people pretty well, and I’m a great listener. The bar’s pretty dead tonight. Why don’t you tell me why such a beautiful woman is sitting alone, looking so sad?”
* * * *
Sad? Jocelyn wasn’t sure if she was sad; maybe contemplative, reflective, and a whole lot of confused. Today was her birthday, and not just any birthday, the big four-O. It was kind of a big deal, and it was difficult to not look back to see what her life had been up until this point. What did she have now, what had she accomplished? A wealthy widow, how cliché and depressing. The future was what had her concerned, the what nows and where to even start?
“No, I’m not sad,” she said, deciding that today was not supposed to be a pity party. “Today’s my birthday.”
The grin on the young bartender’s face was uplifting. Mason was especially nice to look at—that’s probably why they hired him in the first place—and he was easy to talk to. Excellent qualities to have in the service industry. His head was shaved short, paired with deep blue eyes and a kind smile. He was tall and lean and couldn’t have been a day over twenty-five. The word cougar flashed in Jocelyn’s mind. Not that she was looking to get tangled up with anyone. In fact, she had been off men for the last three years, since the passing of her husband.
“What? Why didn’t you say so? Happy birthday!” His over-the-top cheerfulness made her smile, the first real smile she’d had all day. “Tell me why you aren’t out with your friends celebrating?”
“Oh, they wanted to, I’m just not into it. I want this day to myself.”
“Excuse me.” Mason nodded at a patron who came into the bar, seating himself at the far side. Mason set down Jocelyn’s credit card, sliding it back over to her. “This drink is on the house.”
He tossed her a wink before heading down to the other customer. She was unable to stop her eyes from wandering over his cute butt as he walked away. That man could wear a pair of jeans and a black tee like no other. His ensemble wasn’t unique by any means, but she was sure it caught the attention of plenty of girls.
Jocelyn had no intention of spilling the beans about her birthday and blamed it on Mason’s charisma. She’d chosen to sit at the bar so she could quickly order drinks without having to wait. A couple of drinks in her made her giggly. That’s what she was looking for tonight—a nice little buzz then to bed to sleep off the long day.
When Mason dropped off a shot of Patrón with all the fixings of salt and lime, she decided that he was unquestionably a good bartender and he had a knack for reading people. She felt his gaze on her as she licked her hand before sprinkling salt on it, only to lick the salt off before tossing back the clear liquid. The burn as it went down was softened by the following lime, which made her lips pucker. A wide grin split across her face. The action made her think of one thing: her twenty-third birthday. It was a Patrón-filled night. Sushi was not a good idea before a night of binge drinking, she recalled, with a shiver and a lump in her throat.
“That must have done the trick,” Mason said after a gruff clearing of his throat, which pulled her from her thoughts.
“Just remembering some wild times I had with Mr. Patrón. Thank you.” She meant it too. Jocelyn might not have ordered that, but it was exactly what she needed.
“What’s this?” he asked as he picked up the book sitting next to her. “Travels in Portland: A Photo Tour,” he read aloud.
“Yes. I love photography. And I’ve lived here my whole life and haven’t seen half of the things in this book. It’s part of my birthday resolution to see more of these sights. Maybe even take my own pictures.” Jocelyn blushed as she made her confession. Her lips were already loosening, thanks to the cocktails.
She found herself caught in the trance of Mason’s blue eyes outlined by thick eyelashes that would make any woman jealous, but the silence became awkward. Thankfully, it was interrupted by another customer. Mason took her empty glasses and walked off without another word.
Jocelyn flipped the book open, hoping the pages could distract her from the slow passing of minutes: ten, eleven, twelve. Why Mason hadn’t been over to talk to her again had her at a loss. The bar hadn’t gotten busy. He’d delivered another strawberry lemon drop but didn’t stay. She decided to push the thoughts away as she mindlessly flipped through the book.
The pictures made her think of her late husband, Cliff. He was a good man and treated her well; she was luckier than most. But he wasn’t an adventurous man. He’d taken her on many business trips to foreign countries but never wanted to leave the safety of the hotels unless he was dining out with a client, and Jocelyn didn’t care to venture out alone. She wanted someone to share the experiences with, though she never resented him for that, but she scolded herself for not being braver.
“All right,” Mason’s deep voice said, startling her. “All of your drinks are on the house tonight.”
When Jocelyn went to protest he held up his hand, effectively silencing her.
“The owner insisted.” He tisked. “Are you ready to go see some of these sights? I’m off now. You up for a little birthday adventure?”
Who was this guy thinking that she would just leave the bar with him? But if she were being honest with herself, she was only slightly appalled.
“Listen, I’m going to stop you right there. I’m not a desperate housewife, or into that whole cougar thing.”
“Well, that’s good to know. Just because I have this pretty face and work at a bar doesn’t mean I’m a manwhore. I don’t have any plans tonight, and I thought it’d be fun to go do something,” he countered back. “Come on, Joss, let’s have a little birthday adventure. It’s still early. I promise to have you home by midnight.”
His bold words were like a bucket of cold water. Weren’t you just beating yourself up about not being brave? Here’s your chance. She contemplated his unexpected offer. The cocktails had given her the push she needed tonight.
“Sure. Why not? But I’m driving, and you have to be on your best behavior.”
“Deal.”
What? Why? Shit. What have you gotten yourself into? Jocelyn’s heart pounded as she realized that she’d agreed to leave a bar with a complete stranger. But a part of her—the crazy part, or maybe desperate part—wanted to trust this guy.
She pressed her lips together hard, trying to keep the look of worry off her face as an optimistic Mason came around the bar, leading her out the doors.