Tex blinked, and gave her a cautious smile. “I wouldn’t have guessed he was your type,” he said in neutral tones.
“How about a glass of wine?” Lydia said plaintively.
Tex grimaced. “Anything else? We’re out of white and nearly dry on the red, too. It’s been hard getting restocked since the storm, with no boat of our own.”
“Anything,” Lydia said, sinking down onto a barstool. “Not too strong. Well, maybe strong.”
“I’ll whip you up something perfect,” Tex promised, filling a glass with ice cubes and reaching for bottles. “And you tell me about your date.”
Lydia misheard date as mate, and said, “How did you know?” before her ears caught up with her brain. “Oh, you said… never mind.”
Tex wisely kept his mouth closed while Lydia twisted the hem of her full dress in her hand. It was a dress she often wore for the f
ormal dances held once a week, and probably overkill for this meeting, but it was what she had always pictured herself in when she had thought about her mysterious future mate. Probably the dancing through a garden and the poetry she imagined he’d whisper to her weren’t going to happen.
“Your mate then?” Tex prodded, putting the drink down in front of her.
“Don’t tell anyone yet,” Lydia begged.
“My lips are sealed,” Tex said gravely. “Nervous?”
“He’s not what I expected,” Lydia confessed. “He’s... so…”
She didn’t know how to finish the sentence. Her swan wanted to dwell on his strength and handsome face, but Lydia couldn’t put aside the things that Laura had told her. He kidnapped people and did who knows what else for terrible men. He wasn’t anything like the suave billionaire philanthropist she had always fantasized about.
“Complicated?” Tex suggested.
“That’s a start,” Lydia said hopelessly, taking a sip of her drink. It was light and fruity, with just a promise of warming alcohol behind the subtle fruit and bubble. “Bueno. This is good,” she said, determined to concentrate on the best before her.
“I’ll name it after you,” Tex said. He pushed a candle across the bar to her and lit it. “Now you take this and your drink to one of the tables on the pool deck and when Wrench shows up, I’ll send him your way.”
Lydia smiled. “Thanks, Tex,” she said gratefully.
“You’re going to be fine,” he assured her. “Mates always find a way to muddle through.”
“There might be a lot of muddling,” Lydia said faintly, remembering the way he had flinched away from her touch.
Someone down the bar called for Tex and he turned away to attend to them.
Lydia gathered up her candle and went to find the perfect place for an imperfect meeting.
Chapter 9
“What are you grinning about?” Wrench growled, pulling at the starched collar of his suit.
Tex didn’t pause in his mixing, giving a bottle an unnecessary flip as he topped off the concoction he was working on. “You clean up nicely, that’s all. Lydia’s going to be impressed.”
Wrench scowled at him. “What do you know about that?” he asked.
“I’m a bartender,” Tex said cheerfully. “I know everything.” He passed the glass across the bar to the waiting guest and turned to give Wrench an appraising look. “Yup, she’s going to find this quite acceptable.”
“So glad you approve,” Wrench said dryly. “Where is she?” He had scanned the crowd, but none of the milling women, despite the curious and interested stares he was receiving, held the slightest hint of interest to him.
Tex pointed, along the bar, out the deck. “Down on the far end of the pool deck. Take your own drink, the service is going to be lousy down there. Pour you a beer?”
Wrench’s heart did a little flip flop in his chest. Past the cheerful lights of the bar, he could only make out the vaguest impression of a figure sitting at a table lit by a single candle.
Ours, his panther purred. Only ours.