Chapter 11
Walker
I didn”t know how this evening was going to go.
Maggie called in sick, something she rarely ever does. She assured me that Claire would cover her shift, but with the way she bolted from the bar after putting me in my place, I don’t know if she just agreed to cover the shift so that she could stick it to me by not showing up.
When the door opens, Claire steps inside with two men right behind her, their eyes lower on her body than I”d like to see as they follow her to the bar top.
She splits off, grabbing her apron, and they belly up to the bar to place an order for beers.
I know she needs the extra money. I can only imagine how expensive little kids are, and it makes me feel like an even bigger asshole for kissing her and making things awkward. She wouldn”t even be here if she didn”t need the money, and I all but put her in the situation of being sexually harassed while she works.
Not winning any Boss of the Year awards over here.
I can”t let myself imagine that the smile she shoots in my direction as she ties her apron is anything other than a glint of hope that maybe I”ll be able to manage to keep my damn hands to myself tonight.
She doesn”t seem frightened or concerned when I approach her.
”About the other night,” I say, trying to find the right words to apologize without making it worse or making her uncomfortable, but I can”t just pretend like it didn”t happen either. What felt like the world stopping on its axis to me and nothing to her is something I have to accept, and I”m very aware that no means no.
”It”s fine,” she says, looking past me to either assess what her night will look like or because she”s looking for an escape.
”It”s not fine. I read the situation wrong, and I”m sorry.”
Her eyes find mine, and I can”t tell if it”s ire or real confusion creating that crease between her brows. With any other person, I”d have no problem figuring out their intentions or at least getting an accurate guess on what they”re thinking before responding myself. It”s like this woman makes my brain misfire.
”Do you normally kiss women who are losing their shit?”
I shake my head. ”Never.”
Her upper lip twitches in the corner as if the answer was amusing to her but fool me once if I know what someone is thinking. I”ll never make the same mistake again. If anything, I”ve always been a quick study.
”I shouldn”t have kissed you,” I repeat. ”I want you to know that it will never happen again.”
Her lips form a flat line, but once again, I can”t read it as disappointment. Doing so would be just one more mistake I make where this woman is concerned.
”That group seems happier and bigger than usual,” she says, gracefully changing the subject as she points to the folks gathering around the table Adalynn always sat and waited for Cash at when he was on the evening shift.
I turn, grateful for the reprieve. I said what I needed to and, accepted or not, I”m just glad she isn”t harping on me about my mistake.
”Cash and Adalynn have made things official. Tonight is the celebration of that,” I explain. ”It”ll be busy, but they tip well and you don”t have to worry about none of that shit you catch from the college guys. Most of them tonight have actual manners.”
”Really?” she asks, still looking at the group. ”Have you met the Tate twins?”
I catch myself grinding my back molars together in irritation and have to force myself to stop. Instead of flying into a jealous rage, which is how my insides feel right now, I opt for something more professional and boss-like.
”Have they been giving you a hard time?”
Her eyes slowly meet mine, and there”s a sad smile on her face once again.
”I can handle the Tate brothers. Now get behind the bar and make my drinks.”
Can handle the Tate brothers?
I”m not one to judge, but I guess you just never know what people are into these days.
I stand watching her roam the room for longer than I have any right to before doing exactly as she says.
I catch her more than once standing off to the side during the shift and watching the group celebrating with Adalynn and Cash. The sadness in her eyes is nearly palpable. I bet she doesn”t see a happy couple beginning their lives together. She sees everything she hoped for with Hux and it”s a reminder of what she lost.
How have I let myself forget that major aspect of her life?
In my selfishness to kiss her, I failed to recall that she lost someone she loved, someone she vowed to spend the rest of her life with.
I swallow down the regret and a level of hatred I”ve never felt for myself before. The woman lost her husband, and I thought it was a great idea to try and stick my tongue down her throat.
Her history is what has kept me away for the last three years, and nothing has changed that. She”s not here to flirt with me and hook up. She needs a job, which means she needs money, and I”m complicating that for her. Something I never wanted to do.
It doesn”t matter how pretty she is or how she looks in her jeans. It doesn”t matter that I can”t seem to stop staring at her, that I smile when she smiles, and I want to murder every person in here that makes that smile dim.
These are all my problems and have everything to do with my inability to control myself. Pushing the blame off on her was wrong. Throwing away her application the first time she submitted it because I was tempted to save her damn phone number was all on me.
I”ve officially turned into a creep, and it started long before I was caught creeping around in her little backyard.
”Penny for your thoughts?”
I have a smile on my face when I look up and see Riley Wilson, the owner of the local catering company, sitting at the bar.
”Hey there,” I tell her. ”Need a refill?”
The question is stupid because I can clearly see that her drink is full.
She frowns at me. What is it with the women in town looking at me and changing their moods? Is there something wrong with the moon and stars? Is Mars or Jupiter in retrograde or something?
”I don”t blame you,” she says as if I didn”t even ask her a question. ”You probably don”t want to talk about it.”
I chew the inside of my cheek as I try my best to analyze the situation. Does she really want to know what I”m thinking or does she want me to ask her what”s on her mind? This used to not be so hard, but blaming Claire for my jumbled brain would be egotistical and, honestly, more than a little narcissistic.
”Can I ask you a question?”
”Of course,” I tell her, grateful she took the initiative to speak again rather than forcing me to decide how to handle the situation.
”What would you do if people just stopped coming to the bar?”
”Like if we had a slow night? I”d have the chance to get the monthly maintenance done on time and not have to be up here at the crack of dawn on the first Sunday of the month.”
She gives me a wry smile before shaking her head. ”No, I mean if there was no business in town. No one came to drink here.”
My brows furrow together. ”Where are they drinking then?”
She huffs a humorless laugh. ”The fact that you can”t even imagine that happening means you”ve never had to wonder. You might be the wrong person to ask.”
”Listen,” I say, leaning on the bar and getting a little closer to her. ”Tell me what”s wrong, and I can make suggestions.”
”I don”t think my business is going to make it.” She stares into my eyes, and even if the words she just spoke weren”t serious, I can easily see how much this is bothering her.
”Shit,” I mutter before giving her an apologetic smile. ”Sorry for being so dense, but in my defense, I bought an established business, and it”s the only bar in town.”
”We”re not the same,” she says, another sad smile on her face as she drops her eyes back to her drink.
”What are your specific issues that are making you unsuccessful?”
It wasn”t long ago that Mac Hammer was sitting here, worried about his own business, and I recommended using Riley and her catering business to woo the local folks who were having to decide between his business and one from out of town.
I don”t know if he reached out to her, and it”s not really my place to set that into motion.
”No one wants to hire me,” she says.
”Do you feel like it”s a product issue?”
She narrows her eyes at me before speaking. ”A Taste of Art prides itself on being top-of-the-line culinary cuisine, thank you very much.”
I hold my hands at my ears in mock surrender. I can see she definitely doesn”t have a problem fighting for her dream.
”Do you think that”s the problem?”
”Are you serious? People don”t want bad food.”
I shake my head and smile wider. ”Are you considering your clientele when advertising your menu and prices?”
It”s her turn to chew the inside of her cheek.
”I think—”
”Hold that thought,” I tell her when I see Claire walking toward the bar over her shoulder.
”Two Buds, one dark IPA, and nine shots of Patron.”
I cringe at the shot count. There are going to be some folks regretting their choices in the morning, but it”s not my job to judge folks making their own decisions.
”And two bottles of water and one diet soda for Adalynn and Madison.”
I get to work on making the drinks.
”Madison isn”t having her usual tequila and Diet Coke with lime?”
”She is not,” Claire confirms, and for some reason it makes Riley”s face light up as she turns to Claire.
”Really?”
”Really,” Claire confirms.
”That”s so exciting!” Riley says, looking over her shoulder at the large group across the room.
”Did I miss something?” I ask, placing the beers on Claire”s tray before getting to work on the shots.
”Any idea why a woman wouldn”t be drinking, Walker?” Claire asks.
I shrug. ”Early morning? Just not in the mood?”
Claire sighs as if I”m the most frustrating man she has ever had to deal with.
”She”s pregnant,” Riley explains, letting me off the hook faster than Claire seemed willing to do.
”Wow,” I say, genuinely surprised. ”Never would”ve guessed that.”
”It”s why Adalynn isn”t drinking either,” Claire adds.
”Adalynn never drinks,” I tell her. ”Wait, she”s pregnant, too?”
”This one,” Claire says with laughter in her eyes as she hitches her thumb at me.
Riley chuckles, and I”m glad to see the woman smiling. Moments ago, she was in a dark place. It”s nice to see someone perk up at someone else”s happiness rather than growing bitter.
I complete Claire”s order and she scoops up her tray like a pro without spilling a drop.
”Are you two a thing?”
I snap my eyes back down at Riley, immediately shaking my head in denial.
”About your issue,” I say, rather than breathe any life into a rumor that might be starting. ”Maybe your menu and prices aren”t fit for this small town.”
The glee she has in her eyes from learning about Adalynn and Madison being pregnant disappears as if a switch was flipped.
”Do you know how expensive wagyu beef is? Artisan cheeses?”
”I”m sure folks around here would be fine with 80/20 ground chuck and cheddar. They just don”t want to have to cook it themselves,” I tell her.
”So change my menu?”
Once again, I hold my hands up, my bar towel brushing my shoulder. ”I”m in no position to tell you how to run your business. Artisan whatever may work in Austin, but I think it”s been proven it won”t work here.”
”So change my menu?” she repeats.
”Or move your business to the city, but I can tell you, I imagine there”s no shortage of catering businesses in Austin. Have you seen how many gourmet food trucks roll into Lindell when we have our annual Eighty Bites Around the World?”
”My dream has always been to stay here in town,” she says, and I can hear the sadness and emotion in her tone.
”Let me get you a fresh drink while you mull it over,” I say, unsure of what else I can say to make things easier for her to decide.