My brow climbed. “That bad?”
“Worse,” she said, lips flat. “Anyway, what are you drinking, Martin?”
“Make Cam guess,” Tyler said to Martin. “It’s one of her parlor tricks.”
I laughed. “Um, let me think.” I looked him over and tapped my lip. He seemed like an unfussy enough guy, but definitely not a beer drinker. Something light without being weak. “Vodka soda.”
He smirked. “Rum and Coke. I have a sweet tooth.”
Tyler nudged me. “Look at that. Cam was wrong. I should have bet on it.”
I nudged him back, irked. “Speaking of bets, you owe me twenty bucks. Check them out.” I pointed to The Reader and Batman as they stood close to each other, smiling and blushing happily.
“Dammit,” he nearly whined, but he reached into his pocket and forked out a twenty anyway.
Bayleigh smiled at Martin across the bar. “So who are you supposed to be?”
“Peter Parker. Who are you?”
Her smile stretched wider as she poured his drink. “Gwen Stacy. I saw Green Goblin over there earlier,” she said with a nod toward the romance side of the bar. “Make sure you keep an eye on him.”
Martin leaned toward her. “Wouldn’t want him to steal you away.”
She leaned in too, handing him his drink slowly. “That would be a shame, wouldn’t it?”
I blinked. Nope. Nope. Nope. Actual Spiderman was feet away from her behind the bar, with abs I could see through his spandex and an ass that looked like it was cell-shaded from a fantasy, and she was making eyes at underdog Peter Parker in a bow tie. All my plans disappeared in a poof, right before my eyes. Greg would be alone without Bayleigh — I had no other prospects for him, and he deserved someone as sweet and loving as Bayleigh. After working on the two of them, I wasn’t ready to give up on them, not yet.
Which meant I had to put a stop to Martin.
“So, Martin,” I said a little tighter than I meant, “tell us about your job.” Because if talking about accounting didn’t kill the vibe, I was in deeper trouble than I thought.
“Oh, it’s kind of boring,” he said with a shrug and a blush, pushing his glasses up his nose. “I’m a bookkeeper for Nelson and Neilson. We work mostly with people in the entertainment industry.”
Bayleigh lit up. “Like with studios and stuff?”
“No, with the entertainers themselves.”
“Anyone I would have heard of?”
He smiled. “We do Jay-Z and Martin Scorsese’s taxes.”
She gasped. “Oh, my God, have you seen them?”
Martin’s ears turned red. “I’ve met them both. Aside from being super intimidating, they’re both actually really nice guys.”
Her brown eyes were wide and full of stars and hearts. “That’s so cool.”
“Definitely a perk of the job. Lady Gaga came in last week — she’s thinking about hiring us.”
Bayleigh leaned on the bar and propped her head on her hand.
I blinked again. Of all the accountants in all of New York, Tyler had to bring in one who rubbed elbows with Jay-Z. Or at least punched numbers for him.
Tyler snickered, and I glanced over to find him smiling at me like he’d told me so. Bastard.
So I reeled it in — phase two was to take control of the situation. “Ah, hey, Bayleigh? I need to grab a couple of things from the back, could you help me out?”
She snapped out of it and smiled at me. “Yeah, of course.” She turned to Greg. “Hey, you got this for a second?”
He gave us a Spidey thumbs up with his free hand on his hip and his shoulder blades tight.
I slipped off the stool — Tyler made a face at me, and Martin watched after Bayleigh with a look I could only describe as longing. I just gave an awkward wave.
“We’ll be right back. Come on, Bayleigh.” I grabbed her by the arm and hoped I didn’t look like I was dragging her into the back of the store.
As soon as we were through the doors to the back, I let her go.
I blew out a breath. “Man, that was close. I think Martin’s into you.”
She smiled hopefully. “Really? Do you think?”
“Absolutely, poor kid. You’re way out of his league,” I said matter-of-factly as we walked up to the liquor cage and I pulled out my keys.
Bayleigh frowned. “I don’t really have a league, Cam.”
“Sure you do, and it’s not Martin the accountant. It’s Greg with the arm porn. It’s Spiderman, not Peter Parker.” I opened the door with a metallic squeak of the hinges.
Her frown deepened. “Peter Parker is the real guy though. Spiderman’s just a mask.”
“Yeah, but Peter isn’t sexy without Spiderman,” I said as I passed her liquor bottles.
“Right,” she momentarily agreed, “except Spiderman is just for show.”
I waved a hand like I was swatting away flies. “Doesn’t matter. Greg is the hot beefy good guy, and you’re an inch away from sealing the deal.” She didn’t look convinced, so I tried a new approach. “You know, he was telling me how much he loved your costume earlier. He thought it was classy, and he said Gwen was his favorite of Spiderman’s girlfriends.”
She bit her lip. “He did?”
I nodded. “Mmhmm. I’m telling you, he’s into you. Like when he caught you earlier? He stopped you from busting your shit, breaking two bottles of liquor, and kept you from having to wash those lemons again. I mean, you probably would have fallen on them and messed up your costume. He’s basically your knight in shining armor, and for a second there, when he was holding you up, I thought he might even kiss you.”