Chapter 3
“Coming right up,” Clark said with a nod to Heather, who waved to show she had heard the order and disappeared into the kitchen. Clark sighed, stepped away, and paused as movement caught his eye. His considerable focus narrowed to the newcomer making himself at home at the end of the bar.
Dark hair, (curly, on the long side, terrific mental images of wrapping it around fingers), darker skin tone, (some sort of mixed heritage going on there), tall, nicely dressed, with an armload of packages sporting the James insignia (gay, good taste, not hurting for cash), and a slight crease of brow that made Clark think the man was tired. Probably from shopping, from the looks of things.
Clark quickly walked over and offered his most soothing, in-charge-and-happy-you’re-here smile. “Hi there,” he said. “You look like a man who needs a beer.”