Two hours later, Curtis and his crew were wailing, and the bar reeked of cigarettes and perfume. Single women in low-cut dresses and men with deep pockets made up the typical clientele on Friday and Saturday night. I did my part to keep the tips coming, adding some bartender flair to the trickier drinks and making conversation with the out-of-towners. We weren't exactly Margaritaville, but we were no dive bar either.

Mr. Extra stayed to enjoy the live music and a third drink. After watching him interact with a regular by the name of Floyd, the bar's handyman and a former restauranteur, I stopped by to offer Floyd another pour of merlot and to dig for more details.

"Are you enjoying the music?" I posed my question to Mr. Extra. Floyd rarely missed Curtis's gigs.

"They're amazing. Floyd's been good enough to fill me in on their musical background. Apparently, the singer was classically trained. I've added a bunch of their songs to my Spotify playlist."

"Curtis can belt out a tune, no doubt. And Phil was practically born with a saxophone in his hands."

"Cabe tells me you nailed his drink order before he even sat down. That's my girl." Floyd smiled with pride.

So, Mr. Extra was now Cabe. It fit him. "It sounds like Cabe failed to mention that I missed on the brand and the ice. I'm losing my touch, Floyd."

"Bullshit! You're the best I've ever seen. You had me straight down to the vintage."

"That's only because we talked about wine the day we met. I had an advantage."

"You had an advantage because you pay attention, Junie. People appreciate that. It opens them up and makes them easier to read."

"Junie?" Cabe smiled, although it came across a bit lopsided. Three bourbons will do that.

"It's June, actually. My mom is May and my uncle is August."

His eyebrows rose, and I was genuinely surprised he didn't bust out laughing.

"I'm kidding." I left them to enjoy the band while I tended bar. Carol reached her limit around midnight and cashed out.

"I'm rooting for you, girl." she said as she signed her tab. "I think the only reason he stayed this long is because of you."

"I expect the band had something to do with it."

"I doubt he even knew about the band when he came in."

"That's irrelevant. Nobody leaves once Curtis starts weaving his magic."

"You're pretty damned good at weaving magic yourself." With a sloppy wink, Carol slid the receipt toward me and made for the door. I watched her leave, making sure she got into the cab waiting outside.

With folks properly lubricated, the dance floor began to fill up, and I remained busy until Curtis and his mates took their break. I prepared their drinks, and Curtis made a visit to the bar to chat me up and collect his IPA. "You're looking good, Junie. As always."

"And you can sing the pants off any girl in the bar," I teased.

His eyes twinkled with interest. "Are you trying to seduce me? Because I'm free after the last set."

I reached across the bar and gave his arm a squeeze. "While I know your skills don't stop after the music ends, I'm afraid I must decline. I've got a huge project to finish by noon tomorrow. No time for fraternizing."

He adopted a silly grin and jutted his chin in Cabe's direction. "Are you going to tell your bourbon-drinking friend that when he propositions you?"

I didn't bother asking how he knew Cabe was drinking bourbon. Curtis was no stranger to bar life. "Nothing interferes with my education no matter how cute he is, you know that. Besides, he's just passing through."

"But isn't that your type?" Curtis picked up his bottle and took a long pull, giving me a chance to scowl at him before he left to join his mates.

Men.

When the band started their next set, Cabe waved me over to cash out. "So, do you and the singer have a history?"

I smiled at his predictable question. It meant he was interested. It also meant that my relationship status mattered. An honorable quality. "Curtis and his band have been playing here every weekend for three months. We've become well acquainted."

He bobbed his head as he signed his tab. "What I meant was . . . are you two dating?"

"Not seriously."

He laid down the pen and looked at me. "So, if I asked you to dinner tomorrow night, he wouldn't be offended?"

I glanced at the stage where Curtis had broken into his version of Lenny Kravitz's Are You Gonna Go My Way. He pulled it off so well, especially since he looked a lot like Lenny. "He knows there's no future with me. We're on different paths. He'll be fine."

"All right, then. Will you have dinner with me tomorrow night?"

I bit my lip, realizing I had to disappoint him. "I'm afraid dinner won't work for me. I'm behind the bar from six till close."

"How about lunch then?"

"I'm sorry. I have a critical project due by noon. But I can do a late lunch. Say around one o'clock."

"I can't. I'm meeting a business owner at his restaurant at two. That wouldn't give us enough time to enjoy ourselves."

"What about Sunday? I'm free Sunday."

He sighed. "I'm leaving on Sunday."

We stared at each other until Jill caught my attention at the end of the bar. I held up a finger, but it seemed my time with Mr. Extra had come to an unfortunate conclusion.

"What if you joined me for the meeting?" he said. "You could pose as my assistant. I'm sure it will only take twenty minutes to hash out the logistics with this guy. Then you and I can eat and enjoy the rest of the afternoon until you start your shift."

So, he was a problem solver. I liked that in a man. "That sounds like plan I can get behind. It's a date."

"Great. Why don't I pick you up here at one-thirty? If that works for you." His smile and star-studded eyes nearly did me in, and I had to credit my strong runner's legs for saving me.

"Perfect. But I hope your assistant doesn't need to know shorthand."

"No prior experience required." He pocketed his wallet and made his way across the room while I watched his fine ass go. Hopefully, all my future job interviews would be this easy.

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AUTHOR'S NOTE: Who else thinks Lenny Kravitz is a hottie? The guy defies age.