His Last Rodeo. Claire McEwen

got the joke.

      Kit motioned him over to the Guinness tap. “Okay, this is serious stuff. Are you paying attention?”

      “Sure.” He was, but it was difficult, because she smelled good. He’d noticed it earlier, too. Some sort of sweet, spicy scent that interfered with coherent thought.

      “Okay, so with Guinness, use the tulip pint glasses.” She pulled one from above the tap. “See how they have a big curve in the side?”

      He took the glass and tilted it. “I see it.”

      “Fill the glass to the bottom of that curve. Then turn the tap off.”

      “Sounds doable.” He put the glass underneath the tap and went to pull it.

      “Wait.” Kit covered his hand on the tap with hers. “Tilt the glass at a forty-five-degree angle.”

      He liked how it looked, her small white hand with sexy wine-colored fingernails over his tanned knuckles. How was he supposed to focus?

      “Okay, now we’re going to pull the tap forward, slowly. Guinness has to slide down the side of the glass. Otherwise it gets too foamy.”

      He was stuck on the word slide and how her husky voice was low for only him to hear. He tried to ignore the feel of her hand on his, that scent surrounding him now, the heat of her as she stood so close to his side. He watched the way the dark liquid moved down the glass, breathed her in and...

      “Enough.” She brought his hand back so they closed the tap. “Set the glass down right here. Gently.”

      Together they lowered the Guinness. “Now just let it stand there.”

      “This is quite a process.” Tyler stepped back, needing a little air, a little distance from her and her perfume and the way it made him want to wrap his arms around her lush curves. Which was totally inappropriate. They were at work, and she worked for him.

      “It’s an art. A lot of bartending is. Whether it’s crafting a cocktail or making someone feel a little less alone for a while, it all takes practice and attention to details.”