“They look great on her,” Jenny corrected him. “I look like a fraud. I feel like a fraud. I’m graduating in three months with a degree in law and I feel like I’m ready to panic and run away and do something crazy and reckless and throw it all away because I’m not as good as my grades say and who would even let me practice law and there’s the bar and maybe someday I’ll be a judge but that’s just absolutely nuts and it’s all just really overwhelming.”
“It’s pretty normal to feel like that,” Tex assured her. “I’ve probably seen a hundred students in the last few months of their degrees who say exact variations of that. And it’s okay to take a little break and be out of character and go out to a bar for a good time.”
Jenny’s look of relief was almost comical. Tex wondered how long she had been waiting for someone to say that to her.
“‘Course, I have to say that because I work in a bar,” he teased her, and was glad when she picked up that it was a joke and laughed richly.
“Did you go to college?” she asked, then backpedalled, “Sorry, that was probably too personal.”
“Nah,” Tex drawled easily back at her. “I never had the smarts for that. Thought I might make it as a musician, never really got further than amateur night and karaoke.”
“I bet you sing really well. You have a great voice.”
Tex wasn’t sure if the warmth in her own voice was still the alcohol, or if she was flirting. “Thanks, sugar,” seemed a safe enough reply.
“I’m leaving!” the waitress hollered, making true on her statement with a bang of the back door.
“Dreams are important,” Jenny said firmly. “You shouldn’t give up on being a musician.”
“Dreams change,” Tex said with a shrug. “I still like playing, but it’s not a career I’d choose.”
“What would you choose? Bartending?” From some people, it may have sounded condescending, but Jenny was genuine and naive; her question was sincere.
“Honestly, yes,” Tex admitted. “I’d love to have my own place — maybe somewhere tropical.”
“You ever seen…”
“Cocktail,” Tex finished. “Yeah, I may have watched that at an impressionable age. Practiced juggling liquor bottles for hours to get it right.”
Jenny sat up. “Let’s see!”
Tex chuckled and picked two bottles from the counter. “Pro tip… full bottles have different balance than empty ones, and half-empty ones are worse. That lesson cost me half a paycheck when I dropped a 16 year old single malt.”
He set the bottles easily in motion, spinning them in his hands and dipping them behind his back, even tossing one of them and catching it with a flourish.
Jenny squealed and clapped her hands appreciatively. “Oh my gosh, you have reflexes like a shifter!”
Startled, Tex fumbled the bottle, and then miraculously caught it before it hit the edge of the counter. Jenny’s eyes went wide and she clapped her hand over her mouth. She met Tex’s eyes and he knew that he had betrayed his understanding of the term with both his reaction and his reaction time.
“I mean… ah…” Jenny bit her lip. “I suppose we’ve eliminated the possibility that I was drugged into stupidity, but can I blame the iced teas for that slip?”
Tex had to laugh at her earnestness. “I hate to break it to you, but you’re almost past that excuse, too.”
Jenny gave a mortified groan.
“You’re a shifter?” Tex asked. Somehow, she didn’t fit into his expectation.
Jenny shook her head. “No, but otters and wolves run in my family. And I’m usually much better about being discreet about them.”
Tex chuckled, replacing the bottles on the shelf. “Long island iced teas can do that,” he said understandingly.
“What’s your animal?” she asked wistfully. “If you don’t mind me asking.”
“Bear,” Tex said. “Brown bear.”
“I didn’t know there were brown bears in Texas,” Jenny observed thoughtfully.
Tex leaned in. “Want to know a secret?”