With a Grain of Salt (Lindell Book 3)

Chapter 1

Walker

”Be right back,” I tell Maggie before heading to the back.

The bar is crazy tonight, and although it”s a great problem to have, staffing has been an issue for the last couple of months.

You”d think in a college town there”d be no shortage of people needing to make some fast cash, but we haven”t had many people interested in working. Maybe their parents are providing all they need, unlike years in the past, when almost all students had a part-time job.

I grab the case of beer and make my way back out to the bar, my eyes scanning the crowd in an effort to make sure there aren”t any current issues and also to try and predict where there might be problems later on.

At thirty-two, I think I”ve spent more time at The Hairy Frog than I”ve spent anywhere else. I worked here after turning eighteen, before joining the Army, and it wasn”t long after my eight years in the service that I came home to Lindell and bought the place.

”What else did you need?” I ask Maggie, my best waitress, after getting the case into the cooler.

”I need the bag changed on the Coke, but that woman needs to speak with you first.” Maggie points across the bar, and I wish I”d found something else to do rather than look in the direction she”s pointing.

Claire Kennedy.

She”s the prettiest woman in town. Although she”s technically single, there”s an unspoken rule in the military about setting your sights on another man”s woman. It doesn”t matter that she”s a widow and has been single for more than three years. She”s off-limits.

I know why she”s here and it makes telling her no difficult, but there”s no way I can have this woman in my bar day in and day out. It”s been hard to stay away from her as it is with her silky brown hair and intriguing brown eyes. Despite not being from Lindell, she still has that whole small-town girl aura around her. It”s what makes every man in this place turn and pay attention when she steps inside.

My lips form a flat line as I walk toward her, and I can tell by the way she has her eyes locked on me that she isn”t impressed with me at all. Her indifference when she looks at me hits me in a way it shouldn”t. It almost makes me want to perform somehow, or smile, or do something to pull a different reaction from her, but I know better. It”s not my place to impress her or make her feel any sort of way.

”Claire,” I say when I approach, praying she doesn”t hear the way her name on my lips makes me feel.

I clench my hands into fists, but she”s too observant and sees my reaction.

She narrows her eyes as she lifts them up to mine.

”I need an application,” she says, her tone bored and unenthusiastic.

Why does she have to be so damned pretty?

”We don”t have any open shifts,” I lie, keeping my eyes on her chin rather than the sleek line of her neck as she turns her head to look around the busy bar. People are stacked three deep at the bar, and I don”t have to look out into the crowd to see several people looking around in order to find a waitress or someone willing to bring them another round.

”Megan has been running back and forth since I got here,” she argues. ”The woman is sweating from her efforts.”

”You”re not listening,” I begin. ”We—”

”Don”t have any open shifts,” she interrupts. ”Clearly, you also have a problem with scheduling. I was a waitress back in El Paso. You won”t even have to spend time training me.”

I have no doubt the bar she speaks of is the very place where she met Hux, her dead husband. Her mention of the place solidifies my decision, even though I can feel Maggie glaring at the side of my head. We”re desperate for help, but Claire”s help would also bring with it way too many complications.

”I”ll be back on Saturday,” she says, as if we”ve discussed what her schedule will look like rather than listening when I tell her I”m not going to hire her.

She continues to glare at me as if staring into my soul will make me agree with her.

As an Army vet, I”ve faced opponents deadlier than her, but none who have left me feeling the way I do when she dips her head once before turning and walking toward the exit. Over the alcohol and people, I catch the fragrance of her hair as it swings behind her. I swear the woman has managed to capture the most alluring scent I”ve ever had the pleasure of smelling.

Part of me wants to follow her from the bar and find out how she plans to spend the rest of her night, hoping that it somehow includes me, even though tonight is the most we”ve ever spoken to each other.

I want to growl at every man who looks in her direction on her way to the exit, but I do feel a little relieved when she disappears after paying them no mind. Before turning back to Maggie, I have to tell myself that I don”t even know the woman, and there”s no sense in getting to know her. There has never been a more off-limits woman in the world to me.

The issue is that no one stays single around here forever, and the three years Claire has managed it is nothing short of a miracle. Lindell is a small town with very small-town values for the most part. The people who are born here and stay here tend to get married young and stay that way forever. They have their children and raise them the same way they were.

I guess, with that understanding, it’s insane that I’m thirty-two and have never even imagined myself watching as a woman in white walks down the aisle in my direction. I’m not opposed to love. In fact, I’m very pro-relationship. I just can’t let myself get caught up in the idea of getting tangled up with the likes of Claire Kennedy.

“Was she here for a job?”

I turn my attention to Maggie, who is speaking to me while simultaneously popping the caps off several beers before handing them over to Megan so she can deliver them to people sitting at the pub tables sprinkled around the bar.

”She isn”t going to work here,” I tell her, nodding at Mac when he points to his nearly empty beer bottle.

”If she”s looking for a job, then you need to hire her,” Maggie argues.

The woman has been working here for the last three years. I hate to think about next fall when she”ll have completed her degree at Lindell University and will move on to bigger and better things. Don”t get me wrong. I want the woman to succeed in life, and I hope she does well with her degree in English, but at the same time, I”ll be hard-pressed to find someone that is capable of doing half of what she does.

”Walker,” Maggie snaps when I don”t respond.

I wave my hand in the air at her as I walk toward the other end of the bar.

I don”t have to look back over my shoulder to know that she”s drilling me in the back of the head with her famous angry eyes. I swear the woman is going to be a fabulous teacher because she has this look that makes you doubt every step you”ve ever taken and want to apologize for sins you haven”t even committed yet.

”It”s busy in here,” Mac complains when I pull his empty bottle and replace it with a fresh one.

He doesn”t complain about the number of college students in the bar.

As a community, we know that a lot of what we love about our town is kept that way because of the University, and biting the hand that feeds you isn”t a trait many of us possess. The college gives a ton back to Lindell and, as a business owner, I couldn’t keep my doors open if it was only the local folks coming in every once in a while for a drink.

“It’s a good problem to have,” I tell him.

He nods but the smile that’s normally on his face is absent.

“Something on your mind?” I ask the question because there are a lot of people in town who see us the same way as they would a therapist. I don”t exactly have a lot of time to spend listening to all of his woes, but I would never ignore a friend in need either.

”That job I told you about last month,” he begins, and I nod, knowing exactly what he”s referring to. ”There”s an out-of-town company putting in a bid.”

I frown. It”s been difficult for Lindell to stay the way it is, and it seems like a constant battle against bigger companies wanting to move in and take the jobs, land, and resources that would normally be given top consideration to those who have been here all of our lives.

”I don”t know how I”m going to win. I have to make money, but the other company is big enough that they can lowball the bid just to get me out of the way.” He peels the corner of his label before speaking again. ”I know they want to use me, but at the same time, they need to save money the same way I need to make money.”

”That”s a tough position to be in,” I tell him, feeling lucky, not for the first time, that I own the only bar in town.

In fact, my luck and the luck of many other business owners extends even further. The city council votes on what companies can operate in town, and they don”t let businesses double up. We have one café, one vet”s office, one hair salon, etc.

The difference with Mac”s construction business is that a company can operate within the city limits and not have to set down roots. They don”t have to have a brick-and-mortar location to do business in Lindell. The folks that live here can make it harder. The bed-and-breakfast can refuse to let workers stay there, but the big hotel out on the highway means even that doesn”t make much of a difference any more.

”Have you considered reminding the customer why choosing to stay local would be best for them?” I ask.

”What do you mean?”

”Wine and dine them,” I tell him. ”Give them that Southern charm I know you”re so good at.”

He doesn”t smile back at me. Instead, he scrunches his nose.

”I don”t know how to freaking cook, and as good as Ruth”s chicken and dumplings are on Mondays at The Brew and Chew, I doubt that will convince them to spend thousands more with Hammertime Construction than with whatever joe blow company has consistently underbid me the last couple of weeks.”

”Get Riley Wilson to cook for you, and have them over to that amazing house of yours. Show them what quality craftsmanship looks like,” I suggest.

He doesn”t completely throw my suggestion away.

”Let me know if you need another beer,” I tell him before going to help another customer.