Since he only hired a band on weekends, the tiny dance floor was often wasted space. However, the raised stage and sound equipment came in handy for the activities he’d tried during the long snowy winter when people needed diversions. Karaoke, poetry and fiction-reading, open mic for music had all proven popular.

Once behind the bar, Bull called to the other bartender, “I’ll take this half, Raymond.”

Canadian Raymond Yang was working to save for grad school next year. He gave Bull a frazzled glare. His shoulder-length black hair, which his Taiwanese mother kept telling him to cut, had come loose from the leather tie. His long-sleeved shirt had wet stains on the cuff. “It’s crazy tonight.”

Good. Just what I need. Bull rubbed his hands together. “Fun times.”

One of the servers, Felix, stepped between the curved rails of the waitstaff station. The blond young man—today in a flamboyant metallic print shirt that was dimmed only slightly by the vest—grinned and slid his pad of orders to Bull. “You’re late, Boss.”

“Sorry ’bout that.” Bull used to worry about Felix, who openly played on gay stereotypes, saying he preferred that people knew exactly where he stood. He’d caused more than a few fights, but damned if there weren’t more men than Bull realized who swung that direction. Felix never lacked for partners.

Bull kept an eye on him though. The sarge had taught him that a man watches out for the people on his team.

With the energy in the room fizzing like champagne, tonight would be a good night. As Bull filled drink orders, he exchanged banter with some customers, handed out compliments to others, and paused to simply…check in…with the quieter ones.

Best job in the world. Aside from cooking. And running businesses and—

“Bull, my favorite bartender!” A masseuse from McNally’s Resort gave him a wide smile and a toss of her hair.

His mood soured slightly.

The woman’s friend, also an employee of McNally’s, leaned forward, pressing her ample breasts against the bar. “Now that the ski season’s over, you’ll see us in here more often.”

“Good to hear,” he answered. “It’s nice to have a break between tourist seasons.”

The masseuse reached across the bar to attempt to stroke his arm.

Pretending not to notice, he moved out of range, grateful for the bar between them.

I like people. Really, I do. Admittedly, sometimes he wished that people didn’t include those of the female gender who touched without permission. Actually, a person’s space should be respected, no matter the genders involved. “Can I get you anything else?”

“No, we’re just waiting for some nachos from the—oh, here they are now,” the woman said.

“Ma’am, here is your order.” The brunette server set a platter of nachos on the bar top, all her attention on the customers. She didn’t even glance at Bull.