He nodded and put his arm around her waist, tugging her in. Once the photo was snapped, he motioned that he wanted thephone. The young woman hesitated, as if seeing a vision of it being hurled across the room.
“Show me the pic,” he said.
She did, and he let Gemma confirm it was fine. Then he said, “You can post it, but you can’t say where we are.”
The young woman nodded, and Mason and Gemma got five more steps before someone called, “Ms. G!”
Gemma glanced around, and Mason saw a young man behind the bar, slinging his towel over his shoulder as he walked to the gate.
The bartender pulled Gemma into a tight hug that made Mason’s hackles rise. He took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders and told himself there’d be none of that shit. This was obviously a former student, and Gemma was going to be a popular teacher who got a lot of hugs from former students, some of them handsome young men.
Mason pasted on a smile and hoped it didn’t look feral. The kid didn’t notice. He was too busy talking to Gemma. Mason walked over to hear the conversation.
“Yeah, I got a job in banking,” the kid said. “Entry level. Bartending is what pays the bills, though. And the student loans.”
“I hear you,” Gemma said. “I tended bar for three years while teaching so I could pay off my master’s.”
Mason mentally filed this away. Gemma had been a bartender. She had a master’s degree. All added to his growing tally of data.
He also realized that his hackle-rise was only partly about a good-looking guy hugging Gemma. It was also a spark of envy for anyone who’d had Gemma for a teacher. He remembered how good she’d been coaching him with those newspaper articles, how patient and supportive.
The kid finally noticed Mason and gave a start. Then he put out a hand. “Mr. Moretti. I’ve seen you in here, but haven’t had the pleasure. Great game.”
Mason nodded and kept that hopefully nonferal smile in place.
“We should get a table,” Gemma said.
“What can I make you?” the bartender called after they said goodbye.
“Something sweet and sour,” she called back. “Surprise me.”
“Mr. Moretti?”
“Beer. Surprise me.”
Mason led Gemma to his usual booth at the back. There were three in a row with Reserved signs on them.
“All ours,” he said, taking the middle one.
“Nice,” she said.
He shrugged. “The perks of being…”
She smiled. “Mason Moretti?”
“Yeah.” He slid out a menu. “I know you ordered nachos at the rink, but the ones here are actually good. Steak nachos?”
“Yes, please.”
He leaned out and called the order. Then they discussed the game, a bit awkwardly, Gemma obviously nervous.
He waited until the drinks arrived, and then said, “Okay, you mentioned setting parameters.”
She scrunched her nose. “That sounded very teacher-y, didn’t it?”
“Nope. It sounded reasonable. Yeah, this is about me learning to be less of a Laird Argyle, but it’s equally about you finishing your book, and I don’t want that to get lost.”
“Thank you. Before we begin, though…” She took a deep breath and a fortifying slurp of her blue cocktail. “I hate talking about myex. It gives him a power I don’t want him having. But in this case, it’s pertinent.”
