“Thanks.” He slid his credit card over. “You can keep it open. I’ll be back to bug you.”

“Counting down the minutes,” I said, unable to keep the smile from creeping across my face. Oliver’s good-natured attitude was infectious. The more I got to know him, the more I realized my initial judgment call about him had been correct. He was so not my type. I doubted he’d ever used the word “ambition” before in his entire life. To him, this lifestyle wasn’t temporary. He’d likely spend the next few decades doing exactly the same thing—jumping from place to place, working seasonal jobs. Not moving up. Staying the same.

But even knowing all that, there was something charming about him, something I found hard to resist. I could act like I didn’t feel anything, but there was no denying the excited nerves that swirled in my gut every time I caught a glimpse of the guy.

The excited swirl in question abruptly stopped and my smile fell when Oliver bypassed the table of guys he’d arrived with and went straight for the table of girls I’d served palomas to earlier. They giggled at something he said as he set down the shots in front of them.

Heat pricked the back of my neck. I knew I should have looked away, but I couldn’t.

I watched as he slid into the empty chair at their table and leaned into the blonde one. Suddenly, all the times he’d flirted with me felt tainted. I’d thought we had something. A mutual interest. A potential friendship. I don’t know. But I thought I had been more special than a table of three random girls he’d spotted out of the corner of his eye. Seeing him wink at them made me certain I wasn’t though.

Damn it.

Oliver passed out the shots and they all tipped them back. I turned away, unable to watch the scene any longer. I wasn’t sure if I was more upset by the sight or the fact that I felt an inkling of jealousy right now. Oliver and I had shared all of one kiss and a few sessions of playful banter. I had absolutely no right to be feeling the way that I was right now.

But my body didn’t get the memo. My pulse quickened as I busied myself tidying up behind the bar, forcing my eyes to stay trained down. I couldn’t let Oliver catch me staring.

“Can I get a pitcher of beer?”

I looked up, only mildly startled, to see one of the guys that had come in earlier leaning on the bar and smiling at me. He looked young, barely twenty-one.

“Sure, can I see your ID?” I asked.

He handed it over, and I recognized it immediately as being a Florida ID. My eyes scanned to his birthday where I confirmed that he was legal, but barely.

“I’m from Florida too,” I said, handing it back to him.

“No way. What part?” He stuffed the ID back into his wallet.