Chapter 3
CHAPTER
THREE
Collin
I look at the clock and sigh.
It’s done.
As of noon, Chuck’s Place officially changed hands, and the bar I’ve known and loved since I was old enough to drink is officially gone. No, the bar itself is still there, but it won’t be the same. It can’t be. Not with some out-of-towner buying it.
Lizzie.
Beautiful, spirited Lizzie Meyer.
Her emerald eyes still haunt my dreams. Four nights of tossing and turning, closing my eyes and not being able to get any real sleep.
I tell myself it’s because of the job—my full-time one—and not because of the woman I picture when trying to get some shut-eye.
But that would be a lie. Every time I close my eyes, I see her face, which only elevates my annoyance all over again.
“Hey, dumbass, you okay?” The question is followed up by a swift slap to the side of my head.
“What the fuck?” I ask Gio, instantly bringing my hand up to shield any additional blows.
“I’ve been talking to you for a solid two minutes, and you haven’t heard a word I’ve said.”
“That’s because you always talk. I’m so used to it, sometimes I have to tune you out just to get a second of peace,” I counter, teasing one of my closest friends and coworkers.
“Fucker,” he grumbles, reaching over to slap me a second time, but this time, I’m prepared and block the swing.
“Anyway, what were you saying?” I ask, giving him my full attention. Right now we’re the only two in the day room, and while the TV is on, I have no clue what we’re even watching.
“I was saying I heard from Clara. She’s gonna come by this weekend so we can talk,” he states, making me feel like an even worse friend than before when I wasn’t listening to him. Gio and Clara have been on again, off again for as long as I can remember, and last I knew it was off once more.
“Yeah? Is that…wise?”
Gio sighs and closes his eyes. “I don’t know, man. Honestly, I don’t know what to do. I love her, but she has a hard time handling this life I lead.”
I nod, knowing exactly what he’s talking about.
Gio and I are full-time firefighters, and our job, while incredibly important, comes with a lot of risks.
It’s similar to that of a military individual or police officer.
It’s dangerous and, sometimes, that’s hard for some people to accept.
Clara is one of those people. Every time she hears of a situation involving a firefighter on the news, she freaks out and says she can’t handle his job. It weighs on him, heavily.
“I can’t really tell you what to do, my friend, but you can’t keep riding this seesaw all the damn time.
The constant up and down, on and off, is hard on you.
” Every time they break up, he’s a mess for about a week afterward.
Then, they’ll start talking, and she’ll start coming around again.
I don’t judge, but as a friend looking in from the outside, their time together has run its course, and it isn’t healthy for either of them.
After a few seconds, he says, “I know.” Then, as if flipping a switch, he asks, “So, what’s going on with you and that bar you work at when you’re home? Today was the sale date, right?”
“Yep,” I mutter, wishing I hadn’t confessed my irritation with him back on Tuesday, because now he’ll keep needling me to talk about it. “I think I’m just gonna quit. It’s not like I need the money.”
“True,” he states, checking his watch. “Almost time to start chow.”
I nod but don’t get up.
“Why would you quit? Just because it’s a new owner?”
“It’s someone from out of town.”
“So?”
I exhale deeply, my brain instantly drawing her image when I close my eyes. “She won’t get the nostalgia and comradery that comes with the place. She’ll make changes.”
“Change isn’t always a bad thing.”
“Says the man who’s about to meet up with Clara to possibly reconcile for the hundredth time in the last three years.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I wish I could take them back.
Gio makes a face, but states, “Don’t do that. Don’t pull punches, man. That’s why I come to you about this shit. You tell it like it is.”
“Yeah, but it’s not my life, it’s yours.”
“I know, but still. We’re friends, and I value your opinion. Like when you came to work on Tuesday like someone with a thorn in his paw and told me all about the hot chick buying the bar where you work part time.”
My eyes narrow as I level him with a look. “I did not tell you she was hot.”
He shrugs. “Well, she has to be to get you this worked up.”
“Maybe it’s the fact she’s going to wreck my favorite bar, huh? Maybe it’s because I hate change, and she’s about to change everything about one of my favorite places.”
“Or maybe it’s because you think she’s hot and don’t know what to do about it.”
“Fuck off,” I grumble, refusing to confirm or deny my attraction.
“You’re proving my point, friend.”
“How was that proving anything?” I ask, getting irritated with him all over again.
He snorts and smiles widely. “Because if you didn’t like her, you’d be aloof, not getting your panties in a twist every time the bar is mentioned.”
I just stare at him, wanting to call him on his bullshit, but unable to do so.
“Listen, if you really don’t want to work with her, then quit. Like you said, you don’t need the money. You just enjoy hanging out there with the old men so you’re not stuck at your house all the damn time because you have no life.”
“I do too have a life,” I argue.
He just laughs. “Sure you do. I’m not judging, my friend, really, but the only thing you do is work at that bar or hang out with your family. When was the last time you got laid?”
I refuse to answer that question, because the answer is too fucking embarrassing.
“Exactly,” he says, pointing a meaty finger my way. “You’re sexually frustrated.”
“Am not.”
That’s a lie.
“Oh, you definitely are. You’re even more surly than normal. That screams blockage, if you know what I mean.”
I snort. “Everyone this side of the Mississippi knows what you mean.”
Ignoring my comment, he continues, “All I’m saying is, either give her a chance and see what kind of changes she makes or quit.”
“That’s not at all what you said.”
“Sure it is. If you stay and like working with her, maybe she’ll play with your dick. If you quit, you’re just a patron who wants angry sex, and she’ll play with your dick. It’s a win-win.”
I shake my head. “I don’t even know why we’re friends.”
“Because I give solid advice,” he states, kicking his feet back onto the coffee table.
“That’s the biggest pile of bullshit I’ve ever heard,” I reply with a chuckle, feeling surprisingly lighter after talking to him.
He’s not completely right, obviously. There will be no dick-play, despite how quickly my cock stood up and paid attention to her when she was at the bar.
But he is right on the rest of it. I can either give her a chance and see what kind of changes she makes, or I can quit.
Hell, I can quit even after she makes her changes.
I’m not married to the place, that’s for sure. I just enjoy it.
Perhaps she won’t even be involved in the bar much. She could hire someone—Guy, for example—to run the day-to-day for the place. She’ll make random appearances to collect her money and then be on her way.
I could get on board with that.
A smile spreads across my lips. I bet Lizzie won’t even be at the bar when I’m around, and that’d be fine by me.
That thought is silenced by the wailing of the alarm.
Instantly, Gio and I both jump up and run toward the apparatus bay.
Any thoughts of Lizzie and the bar are pushed out of my head.
Right now, I have a job to do, and all my focus turns to my training.
I’m geared up quickly and heading for the awaiting truck.
It’s time to roll.
“Hello.” I say, answering my phone when I spot the name on the screen.
“Good morning,” Mom greets, her chirpy, happy voice filtering through the speakers in my truck. “On your way home?”
“I am,” I reply, trying not to yawn. The fire we battled last night took several hours to get under control, and fortunately, we kept it from spreading to a neighboring building.
By the time shift change happened this morning, our heads had barely hit the pillow.
The next shift will most likely deal with a few hot spots today, but at least the building isn’t still burning.
“I just wanted to call and remind you we’re having Charlotte’s birthday dinner tonight at six.”
I want to groan, but I hold it back. The last thing I want is for Mom to think I don’t want to attend my sister’s birthday celebration.
I was just hoping, the moment I get home, I could sleep for about twenty-four hours straight.
Looks like that won’t be happening, but I can still grab about seven hours before I need to get up and go to my parents’ house.
“Your brothers are coming, and I’m sure that means Quinn will be there too.”
I’m sure she’s right. Quinn has practically lived at their house since the first time he was invited over for dinner and realized my mom could cook about anything.
Even as a kindergartener, Q ate about anything and everything, never wanting to be at his own place.
I’m sure that had something to do with his parents and the fact his house was slightly dysfunctional.
At our home, he found stability, warm food, and love.
He's been part of the family ever since.
“Do you want me to bring anything?” I ask, unable to control my yawn this time.
“No,” she replies with a chuckle. “Just yourself. Dad’s got some ribs on the smoker. I’ll make baked beans and mac and cheese, and your sister requested red velvet cake.”
My stomach growls, reminding me we didn’t get dinner last night because of the fire. “Sounds good. I’m starving.”
“Well, you might find some biscuits and gravy in your refrigerator, waiting.”