Chapter 4
Val
“Are you kidding me? You no-called, no-showed for two shifts, and wonder why I don’t want you back?” My hand grips the counter hard enough my knuckles turn white.
It’s either that or start throwing glasses against the wall, and they’re expensive.
“I had a flat tire.” Bethany’s whiny voice grates through the speaker of my phone.
“That’s why you call. Or text. Or communicate somehow.” I take a deep breath. “Don’t use me as a reference.” Ending the call with a push of the button does not have the same satisfaction as slamming down a receiver.
At thirty-four, I’m barely old enough to remember how good that felt.
Maybe I should put in a land-line into my office?
But what the hell am I going to do for Labor Day? It always gets busy as shit in here, with less than a week to train anyone.
Pain in the ass.
There are downsides to owning this place in the middle of nowhere. Anyone worth a damn is already working on one of the big ranches in the area.
I’m sick of trying to hire these prissy primadonna arm candy girls who flock out here looking for a cowboy.
They should learn that ranch hands aren’t all they’re cracked up to be.
I should know. Not only was I married to one, who turned out to be an absolute monster, but I see them strut through my doors here daily.
Ten feet tall and bullet proof until they have a few beers. Then they either start brawling over dick size, or crying into their drink because they can’t keep a woman.
I need a vacation. Except it takes a little thing called “money”.
And fuck I need help.
Scotty has already told me to pound sand. Am I really that hard to work for?
Just because I ask him to do things and actually expect them to be done?
He’s so dramatic.
“Hey, Val! Two more!” Russ holds up a pair of fingers from the table he’s sitting at.
When I slide the bottles in front of him and his buddy, I pause. “I haven’t seen that many of you Black Gulch boys lately. Is there a boycott I don’t know about?” Perching my fist into my hip, I bounce the empty tray off my knee idly.
“Nah. They all just have women and babies everywhere.” He smirks. “My wife doesn’t lock me down like them.” He raises his beer in a salute to his grinning friend.
“Huh. Or maybe she likes you not being in the house,” I quip before turning away.
“She got you, man,” the buddy laughs.
It’s always the same.
And it’s almost four. Food orders will be coming in soon.
Crap.
The bell over the door is almost a sound I dread when I’m here on my own.
Sophia McCullough saunters in with all of her rodeo queen rhinestone bling reflecting the halogen lights.
Her limp is almost imperceptible unless I watch for it.
“Well, missy missy. How’d it go?” I catch a whiff of the heavy hair spray holding her perfectly fluffed dark hair in place.
She gives me one of her dazzling smiles. “There was a good crowd! I think Misty is going to rock the socks off the other girls tomorrow.”
“I have no doubts.” I’ve heard Sophia has worked her way into the final rounds of almost every rodeo in the Pacific Northwest this fall. “What can I get you?”
“I need something greasy to celebrate. Like, a big tub of onion rings and cheese sticks.” Her bright red lips purse. “I better get a pepperoni and sausage pizza for Sawyer. He cleaned out my trailer for me and I promised him one.”
“Sounds good.” I tear off the order sheet and move into the kitchen just as the bell over the main door dings again.
Poking my head out, I see a college aged group of eight filing in and pushing two tables together. “Be with you in a minute!” I holler out.
“Jesus, Bethany,” I whisper under my breath as I quickly start kneading some of the prepped dough. “You could at least be here keeping them distracted.”
Measuring out the fried stuff, I drop it into the oil and toss the pizza onto the oven rollers.
Okay, four minutes.
Pushing my way into the main room, I grab the notepad and greet the newcomers.
“Y’all been here before? Menu’s on the table.” I point with the back of my pen to the plastic covered sheets next to the salt and pepper.
“A round of Jagers.” One of the guys circles his fingers to encompass everyone in his group.
The blonde giggles. “That stuff is so gross. I want, um, tequila.”
A second man leans closer to her. “Can I do a shot off your tits, Belinda?”
It’s a fight not to roll my eyes. This is such a signal they’re going to make this a very long night.
“Hell, I wanna see that,” asshat number one chimes in.
“So, seven Jager, and a tequila? With lime?” I jot down the drinks. “I’ll be back to get your food order in a minute.”
“Switch to all tequilas.” The first holds up his hand. “And a bucket of limes.” His eyes shift to his girlfriend’s chest with a grin.
“Got it.” I pivot before they can change their mind.
Yanking the fried stuff, I know the pizza will sit on the rollers once it’s done in the oven.
Back out front, my damn fruit container is empty. And this is the last bottle of low shelf tequila.
Shit.
I know there’s more downstairs.
“Soph, watch the register,” I bark and hustle through the side to the dark stairwell.
Only three limes left?
Slicing thin tonight.
I nearly sprint back up, just in time to see Russ holding up two fingers again.
Why am I already sweating and the evening has barely started?With a few practiced cuts and measured pours, I deftly carry the tray of drinks to the waiting group.
“I’ll be right back for your order.” I don’t even give them a chance to reply.
Giving Sophia a nod as I rush by, boxes fly as I get her food prepped.
“Busy night?” Her big blue eyes blink at me while she holds out her card.
“Fuck no,” I exhale. “I just need to clone myself.”
“Oh.” Her mouth turns up into a crooked smile that reminds me of her brother. “That’s kinky.”
“Easier than finding someone who doesn’t mind being yelled at.” I shrug, digging two beers from the almost empty cooler below the bar.
“I know what you mean. I yell at Sawyer all the time, but I don’t think it matters.” Her irises roll toward the ceiling.
“Well, send his skinny butt up here, I’ll whip him into shape,” I say wryly, matching her pace to deliver the drinks.
“Maybe I will. He’s been trying to make pizza the last few weeks and could use a lesson.” Her laughter follows her out the door, emphasized by the bell on top.
Wait. He’s been practicing?