“Hi!” shouted a male voice that snapped me out of my private thoughts.

I looked up to see a nice looking man wearing a suit jacket over a nicely pressed button-down shirt. Thick, dark hair… slight dimples in his cheeks… no wedding ring on the hand that rested on the bar.

“Hi. What can I get you?” My eyes adjusted to this new handsome man.

“What do you have on tap?” he asked, flashing an alluring smile at me.

I listed the ten different drafts that I had on tap and handed him a menu of available bottled beer just in case.

“Hmm, you’ve given me too many options. What do you recommend?”

“Well that depends,” I responded, “on whether you prefer a darker, full bodied beer or a lighter, pale ale.”

He leaned further onto the bar. “You’re not making this easy for me. Why don’t you pick one? I’m sure I’ll like anything you choose.”

I walked away smiling and grabbed a new glass along my way. I tapped one of the more popular ales and slid the glass across the bar to him.

“Mmm, that’s good!” He grinned and winked at me. “You have excellent taste!”

His compliment made me laugh. He wasn’t the first man to tell me that.

“My name is Mark. What’s yours?”

“Taryn,” I replied, wondering if he was going to pay for the beer I just served him.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Taryn.” Mark smiled and held out his hand to me.

I didn’t want to be rude, so I shook his hand.

“Your hand is soft,” Mark complimented.

“Thanks,” I said warily, attempting to end our handshake.

Before I knew it, the slick man clamped his hand around mine, trapping my hand in his. I tugged back against his grip, but he was stronger than I was. My smile quickly faded as I didn’t like the hold he had on me.

“Did anyone ever tell you how beautiful you are?” he crooned. His free hand started petting my wrist and forearm in the same manner that you would pet a housecat. My stomach twisted in a knot.

I tried to pull my hand free but he maintained his hold.

“Let go of my hand,” I stated calmly, in an almost teasing fashion.

“I can’t. Not until you tell me why I’m so drawn to you,” Mark pondered, like it was my fault that he couldn’t control himself.

I tugged several times while he attempted to lamely flirt with me, but I could not break his grip.

“Let. Go. Of. My. Hand.” I emphasized each word.

I looked over his shoulder, surprised to see Ryan standing right behind him. His beer was in one hand and the fingers of his other hand were tucked in his pocket; his narrowed eyes were fixed on mine. Next to him was one of his bodyguards.

“Oh Taryn,” Mark flashed his best smile at me, “I can’t let you go! Since you were so good at picking out a drink for me, I think you should pick out a restaurant for me to take you to.”

“I don’t think so,” I replied coldly, tired of his game.

“Oh, come on, sweetie. Don’t be like that!” His tone made me wince. He trailed his presumptuous finger over my wrist.

Ryan looked at my new admirer and back at me; his face was showing his concern. I shook my head ever so slightly, hoping Ryan would heed my warning. I didn’t want any trouble.

Two young women approached Ryan and attempted to get his attention. One of them grabbed his arm. Ryan immediately raised his elbow, obviously displeased with their forward behavior and intrusion. He almost spilled his beer. I could see he didn’t like people touching him either.

I repeated myself, raising my annoyed voice at Mark. “Let go of my hand. That’s three dollars for the beer.”

“Come on – you should go out with me! We’ll have a lot of fun, I promise.” His tone dripped with coercion, but he finally released my hand.

“No. That will never happen. Three dollars, please.”

Ryan held up his hand to the girls and I thought I heard him say, “please, not now” to them. His bodyguard immediately intervened.

“Just take a chance! I know you felt something just now when I held your hand. There was a connection there. Don’t deny it!” Mark pressed.

Ryan was glaring at him now. His anger was evident.

“Sorry. I didn’t feel anything,” I stated flatly, keeping all emotions out of my tone. This guy was beyond being an asshole.

“You hurt my feelings,” Mark pathetically pouted.

Marie was watching me out of the corner of her eye too; we always looked out for each other. We had been friends since junior high, and we worked the bar together for so long, we had the creep signal down pat. I pulled the bar rag out of my back pocket and dropped it on the floor.