Chapter 2
CHAPTER
TWO
Lizzie
A whole plethora of emotions crosses the handsome bartender’s face as I tell him who I am.
Shock, caution, a bit of anger, and then shock once more.
Now that I’ve rendered him completely speechless, I take a moment to appreciate the view.
He’s tall, probably just a bit over six feet, has the darker side of sandy-blond hair, and the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. And his body?
Bangin’.
Please don’t tell my younger brothers I said that.
They’d be completely mortified.
No, his body is something to write home about. He’s muscular, yet doesn’t scream one of those guys who spends hours in a gym. He appears to be the type to get them organically, most likely from manual labor. I’m not sure what that is, but I don’t think it’s from working at a bar.
“Miss Meyer,” he finally says, running his hand through his hair.
“Lizzie, please,” I reply, smiling over the rim of my glass as I take a sip.
He exhales and turns a much chillier shade of blue eyes my way. “Lizzie,” he starts, swallowing hard, “I apologize for complaining. It was unprofessional of me.”
I snort and shake my head. “You didn’t say anything wrong,” I reassure him. “Besides, I want to hear the unfiltered version. If you knew who I was, then you were less likely to be forthcoming about everything.”
He pins me with an icy-blue gaze. “I don’t lie.”
“I’m not saying that,” I insist, taking another sip of my beer. “I just mean that sometimes, people don’t want to hurt someone’s feelings, so they gloss over the ugly or beat around the bush.”
He leans on the counter once more, the corded muscles in his forearms flexing in all the right ways. “I don’t do that. What you see is what you get.” His tone is firm, and his demeanor is somewhat gruff.
I nod, fighting a smile. He reminds me of someone I’m very close to.
“What?”
“What what?” I ask.
“You were trying not to grin.”
This time, I let the smile fly. “You just remind me of one of my uncles.”
He slowly lifts his chin, as if absorbing the info. Before he can say anything, a man at the opposite end of the bar hollers his name. He moves with ease, his jeans hugging his hips and molding to his ass.
Well, he’s definitely pretty to look at.
Too bad for me, that’ll be all it ever is.
I’m not buying this bar, uprooting my life, and devoting everything I have to creating the future I want, just to jump into bed with the first hot bartender I cross.
Hell, good-looking guys behind the bar are a dime a dozen.
It’s not like I haven’t seen them a thousand times before.
It’s how my dad made a name for himself back in the day, if I’m being honest.
It’s the same with women.
Employees with the right personality and the drive to do the job quickly earn the tips. It’s a fact.
He doesn’t return to my end of the bar right away, and I’m certain it’s because he’s now dubbed me the enemy.
I’m the one buying the place he loves from the man who has built it into what it is today.
From the moment I heard about Chuck’s Place from a friend of a friend—the second friend being my uncle, Jameson—I saw the potential.
This place has great bones, and even though it’s a bit rundown and dated, I can totally work with that.
It’s what I’ve been saving for since I got out of high school.
I knew I wanted my own place, my own bar.
My own legacy.
I learned everything I could from the best in the business.
I knew in high school my heart was calling me to the industry, but I wasn’t going to take what could easily be handed to me.
I’ve spent the last decade working the business, learning everything I could from four of the best men I know, and saving every penny I could, so one day, I’d have a nest egg ready when the time was right.
That time is now.
Am I scared to shell out all the money I’ve been saving, signing papers for a business loan for the rest, and praying my business plan is right? Hell yes, I’m scared. But you live or die by the sword, and I refuse to die. I will do what it takes to turn my dreams into reality.
I am Walker Meyer’s daughter, after all.
The man is the definition of determined.
And I didn’t just learn from my dad. I spent countless hours with my uncle, Numbers, as well as Uncle Tank.
I didn’t shadow my uncle, Jasper, as much as the others, because food wasn’t my passion, but that didn’t mean I didn’t learn a lot from him too.
All four of them are honorable, hardworking men who have put so much into their business, building it from the ground up.
That’s what I want.
But I want my dream, not an extension of theirs.
When my beer is almost gone, the bartender returns to my end of the deserted bar. “Another?”
“No, thank you,” I reply, knowing I won’t be staying too much longer. One beer is my limit so I’m able to drive back to Stewart Grove. My plan is to grab food at the diner down the block and then be on my way. Friday will be here before I know it, and I’ll have a ton to do between now and then.
He nods.
“Can I ask you something?”
He opens his mouth but flashes hesitation. “Sure,” he finally agrees.
“What’s your name?” I ask, sliding my empty glass toward him.
“Collin. Collin Miller.” He swallows hard but keeps his crystal-blue eyes locked on me.
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Collin, despite the circumstances,” I say, pulling another five from my wallet and setting it on the bar. “I don’t want us to be enemies. I think what is here has a solid foundation, and all I’m looking to do is build on it and grow. I hope you will one day see that.”
He continues to stare at me before giving me a nod.
I can sense his ire with me, even though he basically shut down after learning who I am.
He clearly isn’t a fan of Chuck selling the bar, which is something I understand and respect.
He doesn’t know me from Adam, and the last thing he wants is someone coming in and changing everything.
That’s not my intention, even though I do plan to make some updates to attract more clientele.
With that, I slip off my stool, noting the wobble to the chair and making sure I add matching stools to the list of purchases I’ll need to make soon, and head toward the door.
My eyes scan the front of the room and I can already see the changes I want to make.
The windows are high and covered in neon beer signs, and while those are important, I’d love to see a little more natural light filtering inside.
I sense Collin’s eyes on me as I reach the door, and even though I’d love to glance back and confirm my suspicions, I don’t.
I keep my focus forward as I pull open the heavy door and exit the bar.
When I’m outside, the cool late-April air hits me in the face.
It wasn’t a particularly brutal winter, but the roller-coaster temperatures sure seem to be hanging around longer than normal in the Midwest. I’m ready for the warmer temps to be here to stay.
I turn and face the building. In just a few short days, I’ll call this place my own.
I’ve even settled on a name. Hell, it’s been the name I’ve had in mind since I started dreaming of owning my own bar.
Not only is this one the perfect size—not too big and not too small—it has an old living quarters in the upstairs.
Chuck says it hasn’t been used in years for anything other than a little storage, and with a little TLC, it’ll be perfect for me.
I’ll live close to where I work and won’t have the added expense of either renting a place locally or traveling the hour between Stewart Grove and Cooper Town.
Closing my eyes, I let the moment wash over me.
I did it.
This place will be mine on Friday.
I can’t wait.
“Hello.”
I smile as the familiar voice calls from the front of my apartment. I don’t get up from my perch on the floor. I know my mom will come looking for me.
“How did I know this is how I’d find you?” she asks, laughing when she spots me sitting on my bedroom floor, surrounded by everything from my closet.
“Because you know it’s crunch time, and my plan is to move this weekend.”
She hands over an iced coffee drink and a white paper bag. Immediately I notice the logo for my aunt Lyndee’s bakery. Taking both items, I sip the sweet, caramelly coffee drink before peeking inside the bag. I gasp. “Is that a raspberry strudel?”
“You know Lyndee. She made a batch just for you,” Mom confirms before moving a pile of clothes on my bed and dropping onto the mattress. “How’s it going?”
I take a quick bite, savoring the sweet raspberry taste mixed with pastry and frosting. “It’s going. Besides my bathroom, this is the last room to pack up.”
She glances around. “You’re doing well.”
“I’m about to just pitch it all,” I confess, earning a chuckle.
“Don’t do that. You never know when you’ll need this…thing.” She looks up at me, picking up the bright orange object and giving it a once-over. “What is this?”
A giggle slips from my lips. “It’s a puppy life preserver with a shark fin.”
“But…why do you have it?”
I shrug. “It was an impulse buy.”
Mom tosses it aside and shakes her head. “All right then. What can I help with?”
“I thought Em had a game,” I state, referring to my little sister, Emberlyn. She’s a senior in high school and plays on the softball team. These extended colder temps, mixed with a bit of a rainy spring, has made it difficult to get all her games in before the end of the season.
“The field is too wet,” Mom confirms. “They’re doing a practice in the gym, and then she’s gonna stop by here to help.”