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I immediately tossed out my plan of getting to bed early without drinking. I wanted to get to know all of them more, and I didn’t want to seem like a stick in the mud right off the bat.
“What’s your specialty?” I asked Dorian.
He scoffed loudly to the sky. “As if I am merely proficient at one drink. Darling, I can make whatever you want.”
Feeling sly, I thought of an obscure drink. “I’d love a Manitoba Mule.”
I tried not to grin and spoil the joke. But Dorian surprised me by wincing.
“We’re all out of heavy cream. Second choice?”
Shocked that he knew how to make one, I dug deeper in the drink cellar of my brain and came up with the most obscure drink I could think of.
“Treasure island tea?”
The puzzled look on his face told me that I’d won. At least, until he asked, “Is a lime wedge acceptable instead of lemon?”
“Um, sure?”
Dorian snapped his fingers. “Coming right up!”
I watched with dismay as he gathered the requisite rum, bitters, and favored liquor and mixed them in a shaker before pouring over ice. A slice of lime went on the rim, and then he extended the stemmed glass in my direction.
“A lovely drink for a lovely lady.” I took the glass, and he added, “I’ll grab fresh ice from downstairs.”
I turned my amazed expression on the others at the table. They all looked like they knew I’d been stumped.
“It’s his party trick,” Ryan said with a smirk. “He’s got a photographic memory for drinks. You can name anything in the world and he’ll list the ingredients.”
“He wins a lot of bar bets,” Braden added. “Be glad he didn’t hustle you into making it interesting.”
“He won $20 off me the first time I met him,” Ryan said, scooting over and patting the chair cater-corner to him. I accepted the seat with a smile.
“Honestly, I’m impressed. As a bartender who prides herself on such things, I’m not used to being around someone who knows more than I do.”
Ryan raised his glass. “To subverted expectations.”
I clinked my glass, then took a sip. I didn’t actually like treasure island tea, but it was very good. The right proposition of alcohol and mixers, and he hadn’t even measured.
“Well?” Dorian demanded when he returned with ice. “Is it the best drink you’ve had in your life, or the bestest drink in your life?”
“Are those my only two options?”
“Only if you want to tell the truth!” Dorian said gleefully while making a drink for himself.
I took another testing sip. “It’s really good. I can’t deny it, as much as I would like to.” I looked sideways at Ryan. “I’m just glad you didn’t try to hustle me with your drink knowledge.”
“Don’t you worry,” Dorian assured while pouring ice into a mixer. “I never hustle pretty girls. Only insufferable douchebags.”
“Hey!” Ryan growled while whirling around in his seat, which sent the rest of us into a collective fit of laughter. The buff redhead stood up and pointed a massive fist in Dorian’s direction, every muscle in his arm pulling taut with muscle. Dorian held up his hands and pretended to surrender, and then Ryan handed him his empty glass.
“Another drink and I’ll forgive you,” Ryan said.
“Already?” Dorian asked, all serious now. “That bad, huh?”
“Yeah, it’s that fucking bad.”
Andy cleared his throat. “We do not yet know the extent of Director Atkins’ anger.”
