
Just putting a bandage on it, hoping for the best. Damn station’s falling to bits, and Commander
Whitney’s too cheap to requisition the parts we need to fix things.”
Nick picked up a glass and started drying it with an ever-present towel. She loved the quaint habit. He
didn’t have to hand-dry anything. That’s what the drying tubes were for. But he insisted that being a
publican on a space station didn’t make him any less a proper publican and publican’s dried glasses while
talking to their clientele. She relaxed as she watched him, soothed by his habit as much as he was.
He set the glass down with a click. “You could probably use a cup of coffee.”
She watched him move off down the bar, continued watching him as he poured her coffee and brought it
back to her. Watching Nick was becoming a hobby, the only hobby she had time for these days. But it
was a nice past time. He looked almost as good walking away as he looked walking back to her.
“You know what really gets to me?” He pressed his palms into the bar, leaning toward her as he spoke.
She sipped at the hot, black coffee and shook her head, fascinated by the genuine anger in his eyes. “The
fact that there’re civilians aboard this station. It’s supposed to be a home to people, a mini-society. And
Commander Whitney plays with it like it’s a toy, heedless of the consequences if it breaks.”
She set her mug back on the bar. “He’s proud of his efficiency record. If he comes in under budget
again this quarter, he gets a promotion and a hefty financial reward.”
“It’s nothing but greed. And it’s dangerous.” He slammed his fist onto the counter top, making her mug
jump. The small handful of people in the pub looked up from their drinks. Nick grimaced and went back
to polishing a perfectly dry glass. “Sorry. Commander Whitney irritates me. Use to be just because he
pushed you so hard, but now…” He trailed off, turning his full attention to the rag and glass in his hands.
Her stomach danced. She didn’t realize she had enough energy to feel giddy. “The commander irritates
you because of the way he pushes me?”
Nick shrugged, kept his attention on the glass. His face screwed up into a perplexed expression, like he
wasn’t sure why he’d said what he had. Katie felt her tired face muscles inch close to a smile. She
studied him quietly, sipping her coffee. He wasn’t exactly handsome. His features were too blunt and
wide for handsome. But his easy smile gave him a charm that captivated, and his eyes could melt comet
ice. She wasn’t the only woman on Eldora Station to notice. Even some of her engineering crew had
commented on Nick the bartender.
She frowned. “You know, after nearly nine standard months of coming here and spilling my guts to you,
I still don’t know your last name.” In fact, she’d never heard anyone refer to him by a last name.
His easy grin returned when he looked up, making her pulse kick. “It’s The Bartender,” he said. “I
thought you knew that.”
She rolled her eyes and took another gulp of coffee, trying to ignore his husky chuckle. She’d never
been brave enough to make a pass at Nick. Every other woman she knew that had tried had been very
politely and charmingly refused. Some said he was married, others claimed he was gay. Katie couldn’t
say if either explanation was true because she was afraid to ask.
Nick always had a sympathetic ear, listened to her bitch and moan about her work. They’d developed
an easy relationship, almost a friendship, except they both avoided any topic too personal. Asking his last
name was the closest she’d ever gotten. He obviously wasn’t prepared to share and deepen the