Virgin Daiquiri (Last Call #4) by Moira Rogers

Virgin Daiquiri
    Supernatural looking for a first lover.

     
    Caitlin Carlson swore when an overly
enthusiastic dancer stepped off the floor and into her. Her vodka
tonic splashed across the front of her blouse, plastering the thin
fabric to her chest. “Terrific,” she mumbled. Oh, well. A
see-through shirt might draw some attention when she ordered her
next drink.
    The plain font on the menu in her hand
stared mockingly up at her. She could order from the special house
menu, let everyone know what she wanted, but it didn’t guarantee
anyone would be interested in taking her upstairs.
    At least I’d get a free drink
out of it, she thought grimly and climbed the steps leading to the
central bar. She’d teased Ben once, telling him that a
complimentary drink was a poor consolation prize if you’d come to
the bar looking for a night of hot sex, but he’d just
laughed. Probably because it almost never happens… please don’t
happen now.
    She waved to Bernie, the bartender, whose
friendly smile melted into alarm as he caught sight of the menu in
her hands. When she stepped up to the bar, he gave her a stern
look. “You’d better be up here to chat, girl, because I know you
didn’t wait until Ben was out of town to come into his bar and
serve yourself up on a platter.”
    Caitlin rolled her eyes and laid
the menu on the bar. “Ben gets weird about it, but what’s the worst
that could happen? We both know this place is warded to hell and
back. It’s not like anyone’s going to hurt me.” She stopped talking when she realized
she sounded like she was trying to convince herself. “Virgin
daiquiri, please.”
    “ Caitlin, come on .”
Bernie braced two large hands on the counter and leaned down until
he was face to face with her. “Honey, this is not the place you go
to lose your virginity unless you’re the kind of magical that could
kill your partner. And you’re not.”
    She leaned in, too. “I’m the prophesied
daughter of the goddamned Dumitrescu family, Bernie. Whoever has
sex with me first is going to piss off a whole line of dark
witches. You think that couldn’t kill someone?”
    “ Ben’s going to be back in
a week. Maybe less. And I thought you had another year before the
big mystical planetary alignment or whatever.”
    That had always been the theory, but a dream
that hadn’t quite been a dream had told her differently. Even now
her family was gathered somewhere, arguing over whether or not they
should play it safe and wait out the year, or follow a more
dangerous path that would leave her dead inside a month. Time was
running out, and so were opportunities. She’d snuck past her
family’s vigilant guardianship tonight with luck and her ability to
see the future, but after tonight…
    She met Bernie’s eyes. “You really want to
argue with a psychic about how much time she’s got left?”
    He hesitated just long enough for her to
know she’d won. His gaze slid past her to the floor, and she
imagined he was sizing up the men, wondering if any of them could
be trusted with her. “Ben’s going to kill me,” he muttered as he
reached up without looking and pulled down a clean glass. “He’s
going to kick my ass up one side and down the other.”
    “ If he tries,” she said
smoothly, “you send him to me, and I’ll remind him it could be
worse. I could still qualify for black magic
sacrifices.”
    She pulled out a credit card and glanced
around as he mixed the slushy drink. People were staring already;
they always did when someone ordered from Bernie. She supposed they
liked to speculate about what people wanted. What they needed.
    If they might be able to give it to
them.
    Caitlin shivered and tugged at
the hem of her skirt. It was too short, even for someone of her
scant height, but she hadn’t wanted to look like a stereotypical
virgin, even if she was one.
    Damn Ben, anyway. If he hadn’t gone and
found the love of his life, Caitlin could have eventually worked up
the nerve to