8. Chapter Eight
Chapter Eight
Gunnar
That woman is going to kill me.
Mack and Bennett are going to kill me for hiring her.
She absolutely cannot make a drink to save her life. Poor Bennett has been slammed all night making his drinks, and remaking her drinks.
“Fix that, boss,” Mack grits out as she runs by me to help Bennett from the kitchen.
Shit.
“Willow.” I beckon her to come over to me. I need to get her out of here for tonight, then I will teach her how to simply pour a beer later.
“What? Is there something else wrong with my outfit?”
She blows a stray hair out of her red face. She looks like she’s run a marathon. With how busy the bar is tonight, that’s not too far from the truth.
“Listen, I need you to go out to serve the patio tables with Madeline, and is there a reason you didn’t mention that you can’t make a drink, including a beer from the tap?” I gently push the hair behind her ear, and see the goosebumps forming down her arms.
“You didn’t ask me about that specifically.” She shrugs. “I can serve though. I used to help Rhett sometimes when he’d get slammed after my gigs.” She holds up her pinky to what? Pinky promise me that I’m not an idiot for hiring her?
Taking a deep breath, I hold up my pinky and we lock fingers. “I’ve never pinky promised in lieu of an interview and experience. Please don’t make my customers pissed. Or Mack, more than she already is.” I look over to where Mack is scowling in the kitchen.
Willow turns on her best innocent face, looking up at me with her big green doe eyes. “They will love me, sweetheart.” She flounces off to the patio and I groan inwardly.
“You fucked up,” Mack yells from her spot in the kitchen after witnessing our whole exchange.
I don’t argue. I can’t. She’s right. I fucked up in so many ways. The current being that I can’t stop staring at my friends’ baby sister who is way too young for me and should be totally off limits.
Once I help Bennett get caught up, I go out to the patio to check on Willow. She is flirting with a group of men and bringing them each a new beer. I stand by the door to watch her for a minute. She moves seamlessly throughout the crowded patio, never letting her smile fade, and laughing at something from each table. She is a natural at serving. Maybe Mack won’t quit now like she threatened to earlier.
I lock eyes with Willow as she walks back toward me to come inside to pick up more orders. I watch her hips swaying back and forth while the fringe she cut into that damn tee sways with her movements, threatening to expose the underside of her breasts.
Behind me a commotion breaks out. Mack runs from the kitchen to join me as we both spot the problem. A fight at the bar, Bennett is trying his best to break up the fight, but it's two against one and he has the disadvantage of the bar being between him and the fighting duo.
Fuck. I hate when there are fights in my bar.
Mack and I each pick one of the guys and start pulling, but their buddies join in at the same time, making it impossible for the two of us to control the crowd.
The thought that I might need to hire a bouncer crosses my mind, albeit a bit too late for tonight.
A sweet melodic sound starts covering the room, gathering the attention of those around us and slowly working its way into the group of guys fighting.
When I follow the sound, I find Willow, standing on my bar singing an acoustic version of Lady May by Tyler Childers, sounds from the band waft in from the open patio doors accompanying her .
Slowly all the guys stop fighting to take in the beauty on my bar, entranced by the sound of her voice. Myself included.
Mack grabs both guys by the back of their shirts while they’re enchanted by Willow and leads them to the door. She throws them out without much more of a fight, and probably a threat to call Brad, one of the cops who helps me out when we get stuck with a big fight.
Willow finishes the song, and guys push to the front clamoring to be the one that helps her down off the bar. Everyone is clapping, and she’s politely smiling at the guys who helped her down before silently walking out to go back to her tables. Leaving a wake of slack jawed men in her ruin.
I’m standing there, shell shocked where the fight was happening just a minute ago when Mack finds me again.
“Maybe you didn’t fuck up,” is all Mack says before going back to the kitchen with a smile on her face. A knowing smile, as I can’t keep my eyes off the red headed siren that just sang her way into Mack’s heart.
And mine. Where she shouldn’t be getting into anyway.
At the end of the shift we are exhausted, but I need to teach Willow the basics behind the bar for tomorrow night. Bennett can’t be by himself making all the drinks. Even if Sunday is a slow night with just some regulars.
I send Mack and Bennett home, letting them go a bit early from their duties. They were all too happy to run home and leave the cleaning to me. Traitors.
“Come here.” I summon Willow behind the bar.
“What can I do for ya, boss?” she asks sarcastically.
“You better watch that mouth, darling,” I warn, placing a clean glass and shaker back to their spot on the bar.
She slides up close to my body, putting every part of me on high alert. “Why? What are you going to do about it?” she whispers into my ear.
Before she can back up from me, I spin her around with her back flush against my chest, and push her down so she’s bending over the bar. I run my hand up her back, stopping to grip the back of her neck.
I lean in close to her ear to whisper back my retort, “So many things I would do.”
When shivers take over her body, I release her.
Her face is flush, and her nipples are hard through her barely there shirt. She looks like she can’t decide whether she wants me to continue, or wants me to walk away.
Fuck . What did I just do?
I turn around to grab a pint glass off the shelf. I wanted to show her that she’s playing with fire, but instead now I need to adjust myself before turning back around, like nothing is affecting me .
“You’re going to learn how to pour a beer.” I hand her the glass.
She takes it. “Just because you bent me over your bar doesn’t mean you can boss me around now.”
God damn it. “No, but I am your actual boss, so get to it.”
She listens to me for once, huffing out a sigh and rolling her eyes, but she goes to the taps. “Ok boss man, what now?”
“First, you need to angle the glass, about 45 degrees.” I wrap my arms around her small frame, and place my much larger hands over hers showing her the correct angle.
“Then,” I take her other hand and place it on the tap, “you want to open the tap quickly, like this.” I take her hand and hit the tap so beer starts to pour into the glass.
“Once it’s about half full, you want to turn the glass back up, so it’s straight again.” I turn our hands on the glass.
“Finally, you want to shut the tap off just as quickly as we opened it.” I again take her other hand to flick the tap off.
She turns in my arms, holding the beer up to show me, with a ghost of a smile on her face. “How’d I do?”
“Let’s try it on your own first.”
I hand her three more pint glasses, thankful for the space away from her body. My body isn’t getting the message from my brain that she is off limits. And every time she mouths off to me, it’s a fucking turn on. So basically I’m fucked because she’s proving to be quite the firecracker.
She pours three more beers. Her skill gets better with each one. On the third and final pour, she turns to show me.
“Perfect.”
A grin spreads across her face, a grin that shows how proud of herself she is.
This is about all my body can take tonight. She can learn the mixed drinks from Bennett on a slow night.
Or I might do something I can’t take back.
“Okay, we’ll do mixed drinks another night. What do you want for dinner?”
“Buffalo wings. And a salad to balance it out, please.” Her eyes light up and I know it’s her favorite. Of course the little spitfire likes spicy food the best.
I leave her to finish cleaning the glasses and the bar while I go back in the kitchen to make her requested dinner.
I relish the quiet at the end of a busy night. Usually this is the time I like to experiment with new recipes, but I’m spent after trying to keep my hands and my body to myself all night.
The mental exhaustion to keep my hands physically to myself is worse than a busy night running back and forth.