There was no sign of Trent, so Ashby took one of the many spare seats at the bar’s counter and smiled at the bartender. The guy nodded, drying a glass with a towel as he approached. His name badge read ‘Darnell’ and he barely looked old enough to be serving alcohol. He was, however, very cute with light brown skin, dark curls and a dimple when he smiled back at Ashby.

“Hi, there,” he said. He put the clean glass under the counter and the towel over his shoulder. Then he automatically placed a folded napkin and a small bowl of pretzels in front of Ashby. “What can I get you?”

“Do you have a menu?” Ashby asked. He was in the mood for a fun cocktail.

Darnell gave him a slight frown. “I’m afraid not.” He indicated the bottles of spirits stacked up behind him. “What you see is what you get.”

“Oh,” Ashby said, a little disappointed. “No chance of a Long Island Iced Tea, then?”

Darnell glanced at Bob, watching the baseball at the other end of the bar as usual. Then he rubbed his fingers together and nibbled his lip. “Um, well…I could. I’m just not supposed to. Management says things like that are too ‘foofy.’” He used air quotes to show what he thought of the word ‘foofy.’

Ashby grinned, feeling devilish. He pulled out his key and winked at Darnell. “Room thirteen. I’ll sign for a twenty-dollar tip. I’m game if you are?”

Darnell’s eyes lit up, looking at the key like it was something scandalous. Tentatively, he glanced at Bob, then back at Ashby’s hand. Ashby gave it a little wave, hoping to tempt him. Darnell exhaled, his face lighting up with a grin as he swiftly nodded then rang up a completely different drink on the register with the tip.

Ashby did very well not to clap in delight. This guy was clearly keen to whip up something interesting, rather than pour the same old wines, beers and spirits. Ashby watched as within seconds, Darnell was pouring and stirring with a flourish. He splashed the different spirits together with confidence, although he did glance nervously every now and then at Bob. But he never stopped grinning and poor Bob was too engrossed with the television. Ashby couldn’t help but gasp when Darnell threw the bottle up in the air and caught it again like a juggler.

“You’re really good at this,” Ashby enthused as Darnell finished off the drink with slices of lemon and lime. He pushed it toward Ashby, then took a little bow.

The bartender looked bashful. “I did a mixology course after school,” he said. “I’d love to do more interesting things.”

Ashby tasted the drink and let his eyes flutter closed. “You should. Yummy and pretty. My favorite combination.”

“Thanks,” Darnell said. But his face dropped somewhat as he pulled the towel from his shoulder and began rubbing down the perfectly clean counter.

Ashby frowned and stirred his drink. It tasted so good he was tempted to drink it fast, but that would be a bad idea before eating. Instead, he glanced around at the other patrons, many of whom were women. “I bet you could get away with serving more cocktails, you know?” he said in what he hoped was a supportive manner. “Those ladies there,” he said, nodding toward three middle-aged gals all glammed up. “They’d love cosmopolitans, I bet you anything.”

Darnell shrugged. “We’ll see,” he said.

The couple Ashby had startled previously in the corridor approached the bar, so he left Darnell to it. It wasn’t his place, after all. But he couldn’t help but feel like the guy’s wings were being clipped and that upset Ashby. Life was too short to dance around what you really wanted.

As if to prove his own point, he felt a hand on his lower back. A thrill shot through him as he turned to face who he assumed would be Trent.

It wasn’t.

Ashby immediately flinched, but years of well-trained good manners kept the smile plastered on his face.

The hand belonged to a stranger. He was tanned with a mouthful of straight white teeth and the beginnings of laughter lines crinkling around light blue eyes. He might have been handsome, but there was something predatory in his gaze that set Ashby on edge.

He tipped a gleaming white Stetson Ashby’s way, slipping onto the bar stool beside him. “You look like you’re celebrating,” he drawled in a smooth southern twang. “What’s the occasion?”

His hand graced over Ashby’s hip before he touched his lower lip briefly. His eyes danced as his gaze skimmed over Ashby’s face.

“Um,” Ashby said. Alarm bells were going off in his head. He wanted to get away from the guy but couldn’t see a way do so easily without causing a scene. “Just waiting for my friend,” he said, hoping Trent wasn’t far away. If he was even coming at all. They’d made very loose plans.

“How rude of him to keep you waiting,” the guy said. He flicked two fingers towards the bar, not even looking to see if Darnell was paying attention. “Lucky I’m here to entertain you.” He held out his hand. “Kiefer Burton. Nice to meet you.”

Ashby felt like he had little choice but to reciprocate the shake. “Ashby Wilcott,” he said, pulling his hand back as soon as possible. Kiefer’s skin was awfully dry.

A quick scan of the man’s attire revealed at least seven designer labels as well as manicured nails and a watch that probably cost more than some small countries made in a year. Being from money himself, Ashby wasn’t intimidated. But someone that flashy immediately set his nerves on edge.

“Ashby,” Kiefer said, like he was rolling his name around on his tongue. “Well, I can safely say we don’t get gentlemen of your caliber around here very often. Your accent’s as delightful as your name is, darlin’.”

Ashby shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “You come here on holiday a lot, I take it?”

Kiefer snickered quietly, like Ashby had said something hilarious. It made him feel self-conscious. “Naw, darlin’,” he said, sliding his gaze over Ashby’s form. “I own this little establishment.”

Ashby’s eyes went wide despite himself. He almost asked why on Earth someone with his obvious wealth and style had let the place get so terribly dilapidated. But he found he didn’t want to engage this man in any further conversation than was absolutely necessary.

Instead, he glanced at Bob. He hadn’t acknowledged Kiefer’s arrival in any way.

“Oh, I’m not usually here on the ground,” Kiefer said with a chuckle. “Not really my scene. I see what you’re thinking, though.” He wagged his finger toward Ashby. “This place ain’t exactly looking its best. I let certain things-” he glanced at poor old Bob “-get out of hand. But I’m taking care of that now.”

He paused while Darnell placed two drinks in front of them. One was a whiskey. The other was another Long Island Iced Tea. Ashby felt his eyes widen at the prospect of a second strong cocktail before eating anything. “Oh, is that for me?” he squeaked.

Kiefer winked. “I said I’d entertain you.”

He picked up the whiskey Darnell had known to make him without actually saying any words. While he sipped it, he continued to observe Ashby over the rim of the tumbler.

Ashby swallowed. “Thank you,” he said, not really meaning it.

“So,” Kiefer said. He was leaning in just a little too close for Ashby’s liking. “Who’s this friend of yours?” A finger from his free hand touched Ashby’s knee.

Ashby ground his teeth. He should tell this guy to fuck off. Who cared if he owned the place? Ashby wasn’t impressed by money. His family was probably just as rich as this guy was, for crying out loud.

But where could Ashby go? He wanted to meet Trent, but more to the point, he needed to eat and there wasn’t anywhere else in the resort to go.

“Just a friend,” he said, keeping his voice pleasant. He couldn’t really risk pissing off this guy if he was going to be hanging around for the time being. If Ashby was lucky, this was just a quick visit. Then hopefully their paths wouldn’t cross again. But he had to be careful.

He recalled how earlier he was lamenting that not enough in his life scared him. How he wished he could take that back now. He got the feeling that this was the kind of man who could not only find out what room Ashby was staying in but possibly also get himself a key.

The only thing he could think to do was to smile sweetly at Kiefer and take another sip of his drink. His head was starting to swim.

“Just a friend,” Kiefer repeated. “Well, that’s good to hear. How many of these friends are you on vacation with?”

“Oh, no, I’m here alone,” said Ashby before he could really think about lying. Damn that drink.

Kiefer’s smile grew another few millimeters on one side. “Is that so?”

He took another swig of his whiskey, licking his lips as he carefully placed the glass back down. He then shifted even closer and Ashby could feel his breath on his cheek as Kiefer placed his hand on Ashby’s knee again. This time it stayed there. He tilted his head so the Stetson blocked their faces from the view of the rest of the bar behind them.

“Why don’t I whisk you off somewhere worthy of your gorgeous lil’ self, huh?” he murmured. “We could hit the Aspen scene, have some real fun. I can guarantee I’ll show you a good time. The best.”

Get off, get off, get off! Ashby screamed in his mind. He tried his best not to tremble and show how repulsed he was, but he couldn’t help but grimace and shut his eyes. He had to get out of this situation as fast as possible, but he had to be clever and safe about it. How could he refuse though?

“Babe!” a warm and glorious voice called out over the bar. Kiefer pulled away. Ashby released the breath he’d been holding and opened his screwed-up eyes to take in the most welcome sight of Trent striding towards him and Kiefer. “I’m so sorry I’m late.” He marched right up to Ashby, ignoring Kiefer, and leaned in to kiss Ashby on the cheek. He briefly caressed Ashby’s neck, and only then turned to look at Kiefer. “Hi?”

Ashby tried not to sag in relief too much. He felt dizzy from Trent’s intimate touch but more off-kilter from the surprise rescue. “Hello, sweetie,” he said, doing his best to sound like he said that every day. “This is Kiefer Burton. He owns the resort.”

Trent remained standing, hugging Ashby close to him. Ashby wrapped his own arm around Trent’s waist, squeezing his hip in what he hoped was a silent signal. Thank you! Get me the fuck out of here!

“Mr. Burton,” Trent said flatly. He glanced down at Ashby’s two drinks. “You ready for dinner, babe?”

Ashby sighed, trying to disguise his relief as remorse. “I am so sorry,” he said cheerfully to Kiefer, “but we’ve not seen each other all day. I hope I’ll see you around.” His smile was probably veering toward simpering, but he didn’t care. He stood, intending to leave his cocktails behind. He’d just order more from Darnell to make up for it over dinner. “Thank you so much for keeping me company.”

Kiefer looked coldly at Trent’s arm wrapped firmly around Ashby’s back. “Not so alone, after all?” He raised an eyebrow before turning to knock back the rest of his whiskey. “See ya around, English.”

Ashby was thoroughly glad to see the back of him.