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“Very good,” I said with a nod. I wasn’t going to stroke the man’s ego—his was clearly big enough already.
His eyes sparkled and his dimples deepened when he smiled. “Admit it, it’s the best you’ve ever had.”
I melted when he smiled. “Okay, you win. It’s the best I’ve ever had.”
Laughing, he walked away to mix up a pitcher of margaritas.
The music changed, and Dua Lipa rocked through the speakers.
I watched Jason out of the corner of my eye. He chatted with everyone, completely at ease, but I supposed that’s because he was a bartender. His movements were fluid. He seemed to be both busy and having a good time—like everyone else. There were more than thirty people here, a good crowd, friendly, and no one—not even Brie—seemed lonely.
I mingled with an ulterior motive. Introduced myself to people, then managed to ask about the missing woman.
“Did you hear about the missing woman?”
Or, “I read the newspaper about a guest here who just disappeared! Were you here this weekend?”
Other than Brie, no one had known who she was, except David and Doug’s friends, who said they’d come over with her on the ferry Friday and she didn’t talk to anyone.
When the servers put food on the buffet, I groaned. I’d eaten so many appetizers I didn’t think I would be hungry, but the shrimp and steak made my stomach growl, and the salad looked refreshing. I filled a plate and sat at the bar because ithad the best view of the room. I noticed Amber wasn’t here—had she left early?
The meal gave Jason a lull, and he came over to top off my sangria as I stuffed my mouth with a giant shrimp. He leaned against the bar across from me.
“So, Mia the accountant. What do you do for fun?”
“Read,” I said without thinking.
“I noticed.” I must have given him a suspicious look, because he continued, “I saw you reading on the beach. What do you like to read?”
“Mystery, romance, pretty much anything. I’m reading this romantic thriller right now. It’s pretty good. What about you? Read much?”
“Mostly nonfiction.”
“What was the last book you read?”
“A book about AI.”
“Really?”
“It’s interesting.”
It was the last thing I expected from a bartender. I guess I figured his tastes would be more in tune with popular fiction, if he read at all. I realized that wasn’t fair to bartenders in general.
“Now I’m reading about pubs in England,” he said. That fit, I thought.
“Have you been?”
“To England? Sure.”
“A jet-setting bartender.”
He shook his head. “Not really.”
He left to mix another pitcher of margaritas and pour a round of sangrias for Doug’s group, then returned as I was eating the last bite of steak.
“So, you like your job? Being an accountant?”
“Yes.”