Dibs on the Bartender, page 1





Dibs on the Bartender
Giselle Harper
AKQ Publishing
Copyright © 2022 by Giselle Harper
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
Contents
1. Chapter One
2. Chapter Two
3. Chapter Three
4. Chapter Four
5. Chapter Five
6. Chapter Six
7. Chapter Seven
8. Chapter Eight
9. Chapter Nine
10. Chapter Ten
11. Chapter Eleven
12. Chapter Twelve
13. Chapter Thirteen
14. Chapter Fourteen
15. Chapter Fifteen
16. Chapter Sixteen
17. Chapter Seventeen
18. Chapter Eighteen
19. Chapter Nineteen
20. Chapter Twenty
Also By Giselle Harper
Chapter One
I hardly slept the night before we left for the yacht cruise. It wasn’t excitement that had kept me awake, though. Quite the opposite.
Sometimes, packing for a trip is fun, and sometimes it’s a nightmare. I guess I could have shopped for new clothes. It wasn’t as if I couldn’t afford them. But I’d been less confident after the breakup. And to be honest, I’d put on a few pounds.
I was dreading seeing all the girls in person with my extra tummy pudge. I was especially worried about Jessie—she was notoriously cruel.
My phone buzzed.
Jessie: Are we ready girls?
We hadn’t even boarded the boat yet, and Jessie was already bossing us around.
Me: As I’ll ever be.
Heather: I’ve been ready for weeks.
Sarah: Never. But I’m packed.
Lissa: I’m awake. I’ll be ready soon.
I muted the group chat. I would soon be hearing and seeing enough from them all.
This trip had been at the forefront of everyone’s minds for months—and not entirely because we were excited about it. For some of us, it was a dreaded event.
Fortunately, aside from this circle of friends, I also had my friend Julienne to talk to.
In fact, my next phone ding was her.
Julienne: Enjoy your trip! I’ll miss you, and I’ll take care of Milo while you’re gone.
Milo was my cat. She had picked him up the day before and taken him to her house for a short vacation of his own. I’d adopted him six months prior to help combat the loneliness of my apartment while I was stuck at home studying. Med school had killed my social life and driven a wedge between my old circle of friends and me. Julienne was in med school with me and understood. Sometimes, she’d come over, and we wouldn’t even talk. We’d just sit at opposite ends of the sofa studying.
I responded.
Me: I’ll do my best. Thank you so much for taking care of my baby while I’m gone!
Julienne: I really think you should tell them what you told me, about how you feel about the game and other activities that go on. You shouldn’t have to feel uncomfortable on your vacation.
Some of the other girls—Jessie, Heather, and Sarah in particular—always used our girl trips as an opportunity to play a risque game. In short, the rules were that each participant had to sleep with the most off-limits guy the most amount of times. The one who slept with their target the least number of times wound up paying for the other girls’ trips.
I had never participated. In fact, I was still a virgin. I didn’t mind paying my own way. What I did mind was being associated with the girls when they would act so desperately in the company of strangers. When we were younger, I could brush it off. Now that we were all older and supposed to be more mature, it was becoming harder to detach. Our last trip had been an absolute embarrassment, and I was dreading the possibility that this one would turn out the same.
Me: I know. I really feel like this will probably be my last trip with them. I will tell them before I come home. I can’t do it anymore.
Julienne: Well try not to think about it too much and just enjoy yourself! If that means distancing from the rest, then do it! Have fun!!
I felt better after talking to her. She always had a way of encouraging me to be bold and take risks. This was something that I’d always struggled with. I was the shyest of my friend group growing up, and it hadn’t gotten any better with age.
Jessie was the self-appointed leader of the pack and the worst of the bunch. She was tall, blonde, and looked like one of the Hilton sisters. Her story was similar to theirs too: she was the daughter of business moguls and heiress to their multibillion-dollar fortune. She had grown up spoiled and entitled and modeled briefly as a teenager. As she got older, though, I think she was beginning to realize that her beauty was fading, and money couldn’t buy certain things in life. She was struggling and taking it out on everyone around her. She was nasty and vindictive and jealous of everyone else’s successes in life, despite being unwilling to pursue any success of her own.
Heather was more kind than Jessie but spent a lot of her energy trying to stay on Jessie’s good side, so I didn’t hold much stock in her, either. Heather did seem to be taking a bit more control over her own life lately, though. She was an heiress to her mom’s fashion line, and she was making waves in the fashion industry by bringing her own sense of style to the forefront of the company in recent years. I admired her for being willing to take risks, even if her courage ended short of standing up to Jessie.
Sarah had grown up around television and radio stars. Her father owned a huge television news network and married her mom, who was an anchor in the eighties. Sarah had taken what she learned from them and became a social media mogul creating apps and platforms of her own. Most recently, she had gained popularity and worldwide attention by creating an app that helped immigrants navigate the citizenship process. This was an homage to her immigrant grandparents who had originally come from Japan. I was inspired by her kindness and philanthropy.
Lissa was the daughter of the Hollywood elite. Her mother had risen to fame by starring in a soap opera before she decided to be a stay-at-home mom. Lissa’s dad was a renowned stuntman. You would have thought these two personalities would have created a star of their own, but Lissa had actually cut out a quiet little life for herself as a veterinarian. I adored her, but we had fallen away from each other over the years. I think we both associated each other exclusively with these trips we both hated, so our friendship had dissolved a little over time as a result.
Before long, I had made my way to the boat and boarded. The captain and crew were in line waiting to shake our hands and introduce themselves as we boarded. The captain was first. He was a handsome, older man and a friend of Lissa’s father, so he was particularly set on us having a good experience. I think this may have had something to do with the extra hospitality we received from the crew.
The captain’s name was Kevin, and he was your typical silver-fox type. He had a charming, warm smile and a certain authoritative vibe that really set the tone for the rest of the crew. It was clear that he was a man who was used to commanding his ship—but he was also approachable and friendly.
The next in line were Matteo, the chef, and a man who called himself Smithy. Smithy was a diving instructor who was going to give us all scuba lessons while we sailed.
Matteo was a textbook Italian stereotype. He was well-dressed, clean-cut, and handsome. You could tell he took a lot of time to perfect his appearance before he arrived that morning. There was not a single hair on his head out of place. He had olive skin, light eyes, a chiseled jaw and cheekbones, and an accent as delicious as the food we were promised.
Smithy wasn’t bad looking, either, but a little less put together. He had on board shorts and a tank top that showed off his firm biceps and gave a sneak peek at the hardened pecs and tapered abdomen underneath. His sandy blonde hair was windswept and wild, appearing lighter than it was because of his sun-kissed skin and dark hazel eyes.
The co-captain of the ship was a man in his forties named Harrison. He was very polite and welcoming and also good-looking. I noticed when I shook his hand that he was wearing a wedding ring, though, which was the end of my inventory of merits. Married men were off-limits to me, even as eye candy.
It was the bartender, Rufus, who caught my attention the most, though. He was handsome but maybe a little shy. I caught him looking at me as we boarded, and he blushed a little before introducing himself.
He had a thick accent of some kind of Spanish influence. His olive skin and dark hair also hinted at his ethnicity, although his eyes were the most beautiful green I’d ever seen. They were dark and reflected the light in such a way to show the life brimming inside of him.
As I shook his hand, he pulled it to his lips and planted a gentle kiss on the back. I blushed.
“Lovely to have you aboard, cielo,” he said. I had no idea what cielo actually meant, but I could tell from the context it was a term of endearment.
Even after I walked away from him, I couldn’t stop myself from turning back for a second glance. When I did, I locked eyes with him from across the deck. He was catching a second glance too—or at least I thought he was. Amid a sea of people and the overwhelming smell of cocoa butter and suntan lotion, there seemed to be a direct line between me and this handsome new stranger.
Or maybe I was making something out of
After I met the crew, I said hi to the girls.
When I got to my room, I laid down on the bed and thought about him. I pulled a pillow over my head in embarrassment, despite nobody being there to see me anyway.
Was he flirting or just being nice? Did he notice that I blushed when he kissed my hand?
Whether he was flirting or not, though, I decided to leave any attraction to him to rest. I had been single for a while now and was coming to terms with being alone. Besides, there was one major thing that stood between me and pursuing love with most men.
I was still a virgin.
The majority of men I’d told would either shy away completely not wanting to be with someone inexperienced, or they’d try too hard to be my first, ultimately forcing me to push them away. It had started with the notion to save myself for marriage, but the man I thought I’d marry had just broken up with me, prompting me to consider the alternative.
I wasn’t really sure why I’d waited so long. While all my other friends were sleeping with their boyfriends and bragging about their conquests, I had never felt the urge to participate in those things. It wasn’t anything religious or moral, though, either. I just simply hadn’t found a man that I wanted to be that exposed to. I wasn’t ready for someone to know me so intimately.
At least not anyone but myself.
I locked my cabin door and pulled my vibrator from my bag.
A little self-love wouldn’t hurt.
Chapter Two
I took a short nap after my brief rendezvous with myself. Then I woke up and decided to study.
Yes, I brought textbooks on vacation.
Yes, Julienne would have killed me if she’d known.
I couldn’t risk not studying, though. Med school was hard, and I was laser-focused on achieving the best grades I could in order to graduate with honors. Graduating without honors seemed almost as bad to me as not graduating at all. I wasn’t really sure why. I just felt an intense need to overdo it.
This was true about most parts of my life.
I was dreading returning home from the trip because it would be almost two weeks without anybody dusting or mopping the floors. The clean smell of my apartment would be replaced with whatever dormant odors resided in the building. I’d have to wash all my vacation clothes, vacuum the sand and salt residue from my luggage, catch up on e-mails, and sort through my mail.
Going on vacation, like all things in my world, was really just another bundle of work. I didn’t really know how to have fun.
Maybe this had something to do with my drifting friendships and intact virginity as well.
I knew I was hard to deal with. I was picky about everything and could be really uptight. My life was micromanaged down to what time I ate breakfast and which days I ran my car through the carwash. I had binders and flowcharts and schedules planned for myself, all on display on a corkboard bulletin board near my desk at home.
The first time Julienne had ever come to my apartment, she looked at it all and gasped. “You’re really this organized?” she asked.
“Aren’t you?” I asked.
This was a trait I’d picked up from my parents. My father was a scientist for a pharmaceutical company. Everything he did was organized and planned to a T. My mother, a former supermodel, had evolved to his ways, and I’d grown up with every minute of my day scheduled and mapped out. I had no idea that people lived any other way.
Once I found out, though, I didn’t really want to change my ways, either. I enjoyed the comfort of always knowing what I was up against in my daily schedule. Uncertainty of any kind made me nervous and scared.
Yes, this was probably the true root of my inability to commit to a sexual relationship of any kind. I was afraid of getting pregnant. Afraid of getting sick. Afraid of loving someone too much.
So I resigned to sharing my life with a cat, maintaining a diary, keeping a spotless apartment, and studying pericardial effusion on my yacht cruise. It was a quiet life but one that I relished in; I was in no real hurry to change.
At least that’s what I told myself. When the idea of being with someone romantically would creep into my mind, I’d tell myself it wasn’t worth the mislain laundry or shared bathroom. And it definitely wasn’t worth risking a more sociable partner ruining my quiet weekends with a party.
It was all a ruse, though, and there were cracks beginning to show in the worn facade of it all. I desperately wanted to feel loved again. I wanted to share my life with someone I could look forward to being near every night and with whom I could one day start a family.
If there was anything in the world I wanted more than to be a doctor, it was to be a mother. But I had decided long ago that it was unlikely considering I couldn’t even open myself up to the idea of having sex or falling fully in love with another person.
All at once, I realized I had read sixteen pages of my study chapter but not understood a word of it. Instead, my thoughts had been on my future and my current lonely state of being. I decided that studying wasn’t going to happen tonight and shut my book with a frustrated groan.
I had to laugh at myself. I was the only person I knew that could wind up bored on the first night of a cruise. Maybe the other girls had been right all along. Maybe I did need to learn how to let loose and have fun.
I decided to head up to the deck and have a drink at the bar. What could it hurt? I was on vacation, after all.
I threw my hair up in a loose ponytail and gave myself a quick once-over in the mirror. I sighed. I was presentable, at best. I had never considered myself as beautiful as the other girls in my friend group, and there wasn’t much benefit in trying to be. I slipped on my most comfortable pair of flats and made my way to the bar.
Naturally, he would be there.
I caught one look at the gorgeous bartender from earlier and felt instant regret about coming up the stairs. He smiled, waved, and gave me a friendly wink, removing any hope of being able to simply turn on my heel and run back to my room. I’d been spotted, and I’d have to see this through.
A sense of dread washed over me as I walked toward the bar, though. I suddenly realized I didn’t know his name. He had introduced himself to me earlier—surely he would have told me his name then—but I couldn’t for the life of me remember what it was. I scanned his chest for a name tag. No luck.
I saddled up on the bar stool and gave him a friendly smile back. Maybe I could get away without asking. Maybe he’d offer it again. I listened intently to the other voices in the crowd hoping maybe someone else would call him by name and help me.
I must have looked as awkward and nervous as I felt because he placed a friendly hand over mine. “Seasick?” he asked. I looked up into his gorgeous green eyes, unable to even process what he’d asked me.
“Are you seasick?” he asked again. “It happens every so often on the first night or two. I have a drink with ginger root that might help.”
I nodded back stupidly with an equally stupid expression on my face, I’m sure.
He chuckled. “First time on the water then?” he asked as he mixed my drink. “Don’t worry. You’ll get your sea legs soon.”
I smiled. If only he knew it was him and not the water that was making me so nervous.
“Where are your friends tonight?” he asked. “You got on the ship with all those other girls. Now you’re drinking alone?”
I sighed. “Yes,” I said. “I’m not sure where they are. We have been friends for a long time, and we go on these trips together all the time, but barely speak in between. It’s become a strange tradition we have, but we aren’t actually all that close anymore. You know?”
He nodded. “Ah,” he said. “Si, si. Yes, I’ve had my experiences with that sort of relationship in my life, too. Sometimes it can be hard to let go, can’t it? Even when we’ve outgrown things in life.”
I nodded, thinking about what he said. Nobody had ever expressed it in such a way to me before, and it made me consider the possibility that it wasn’t the trips but the friends I needed to be fully done with.