The cute, freckled bartender with a brilliantly red, curly mane walked over to the table in the corner. It was occupied by a handsome, but solitary guy who had been watching the jovial crowd—particularly the gorgeous women—for the last half-hour.
"You know," she smiled, "it's considered impolite to go into a bar on Saint Patrick's Day and not participate in the festivities. Or, if you're unhappy and your plan is to drown your sorrows," she added in a fetching brogue, "you at least need something to drown them in."
She handed him a large glass with a generous amount of a shimmering amber liquid. "A gift from Saint Patty. Down the hatch!"
He took the glass and obediently drank. "Thanks. Sorry for being such a lump." He extended his hand. "I'm Daniel."
"Mary Erin McLarney." She took his hand, squeezed warmly, and added a welcoming smile. "Everyone calls me Molly."
"It's nice to meet you, Molly." He returned her smile.
"So, what's your story? You've been checking out my beauties at the bar, and they'd love the attention." She nodded at the row of gorgeous women who were eyeing him with unfiltered desire. "You're obviously looking for company, but you aren't making a move. Want an introduction?"
He looked over at the women and sighed. The brunette with the emerald satin blouse and matching skirt shot him a naughty wink and crossed her legs. Her skirt rose up her thigh—revealing green garters. Glancing down, she smirked and didn't even try to pull it back down. She then casually undid a button on her blouse—which gave him a peek of her matching lace bra. His eyes widened, and he gulped. His face showed a powerful mix of desire and anguish. "Thanks. But not tonight."
Molly shrugged her shoulders and returned to the bar. She leaned in and said something to the bevy of beauties. They glanced back at Daniel, frowned, and headed back into the partying crowd.
Molly walked back to his table. "If you're turning down them on the night when everyone's Irish—which means everyone gets lucky," she winked, "you need help." She put a refill in front of him and returned to the bar.
Just then a guy burst in and rushed over. "Dude! Why are you hiding here when your bachelor party's in the bar next door? The girls from another wedding just showed up and the bride's looking for one last fling. She's a real babe! We showed her your picture and she told us to give you these." He held up a pair of white lace panties with "I DO tomorrow. But DO ME tonight!" written on the front.
Daniel's face tightened and showed angst again. Beads of perspiration appeared on his forehead. He took a long pull on the drink and struggled to get out a reply. "No ... I can't ... I told you earlier."
His friend shook this head in dismay. "Pussy-whipped is one thing, D. But this? This is your last chance, remember?"
He finished the drink. "I'm sorry," he said somberly. "I'm going home."
"Your choice. See you at the wedding."
Molly watched the guy stumble out the door then returned to Daniel. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but now I get it. You dick and your brain are at war. It's your last night as a free man, so you want to screw everything in sight. But you're worried your fiancée will find out. Good man. Do the smart thing. Just say no."
He laughed wryly. "That would be too simple. She gave me a hall pass."
Her eyes widened. "She said it's OK for you to have sex with someone else?"
"Yup," he answered glumly.
Molly paused, then playfully slapped Daniel on the head. "Nice try, cowboy. I'm not buying. Do you know how many times guys have tried to pull that with me? You pretend you're trying to resist temptation on your last night. You even have your bud stage that thing about the horny bride-to-be, whom you turn down. Then you come on to me, and I'm supposed to melt because you're such a good guy. This isn't my first Saint Patty's Day, you know—all green beer and lust. I doubt you're even getting married. The bet with your buds was about 'nailing a hot bartender,' right? You guys are all alike!" She started to walk away.
