1. A Definite Yes
A DEFINITE YES
E ighteen Years Later
“What can I get you to drink?”
“I’ll take a number four on draft.”
Emma French moved over to the tap on a Friday night working the bar. The modern day Hulk in front of her was the type of guy she wanted to chat up while she was doing her research. Damn, this was going exactly as she’d hoped.
She pulled the draft on the beer and filled the glass the way she’d been shown two days ago when she’d trained.
Her cousin Hunter only laughed when she asked if she could work for a weekend to gather some information for her book. It was not the first time she’d done it at The Retreat that her family founded.
If her mother had been a man, her last name would be Bond and her brother, Roark, might own or run this hotel with her first cousin Hunter.
But her mother, Melissa, lucked out and didn’t have the stress or burden of carrying on the family name.
Her mother’s words, and ones that Emma agreed with.
She put the cold glass of beer on the mahogany bar and slid it to the tall built delicious-looking man who almost made her smack her lips.
Brown hair, dark eyes, and a smile that would melt a woman’s panties.
After a mental check between her legs, she was good, but might not be in five more minutes of conversation.
“What brings you to Amore Island?” she asked.
Thankfully she had a good memory because it wouldn’t be appropriate if she pulled her phone out to take notes like she often did when she ventured out of her house.
Research for a book always made her get out of her writing chair though.
“A quick vacation,” the man said.
He was giving her the once over that she’d bet he did to everyone he came in contact with.
With a cocky arrogant vibe as if she should be aware of his identity.
To her he was merely a guest in their family hotel.
A model for her next book...maybe. No maybe about it. That was a definite yes!
Right now, she just needed to get this stupid murder scene through her head of the next victim in her book.
A bartender.
To do that, she had to play the part so she could be on the other side of fear when it happened.
“It’s quiet here this time of year,” she said.
Mid-April in the Northeast could bring any kind of weather.
The fact it was a few degrees shy of sixty was a bonus in her mind.
Especially since the spectacular specimen in front of her was wearing a nice fitted T-shirt.
Yuuuummmmmy on those biceps as he picked up his drink.
“Quiet is what I’m looking for,” he said. “I’ll be busy soon enough.”
She wanted to ask what he did but understood she shouldn’t always press the issue. Or at least not this soon.
Emma wasn’t here to get to know him , she was here to learn the job working the weekend night shift.
“The same,” she said. “It’s early yet on the night. Are you here long or just the weekend?”
“The weekend,” he said. “It’s good to get away and decompress.”
He was frowning at her as if she were missing something.
“I hear you there,” she said. “Excuse me.”
She turned her back and twisted her lips in frustration after a woman to her right was rudely waving her hand and shouting, “Yoo-hooo. I’d like a drink.” So much for spending her time with the hottie in front of her.
“What can I get for you?” she asked the older lady.
“I’d like one of those purple drinks that woman has.”
She turned her head to where a long fake nail was pointing.
What the hell was that drink? “Do you know what it’s called?”
“No,” the woman said sarcastically. “That’s your job to know those things. I just think it looks pretty.”
She took a deep breath and turned to Marshall who was manning the end of the bar and sent him a wave to come down.
“This customer would like one of those purple drinks you made over there. Could you tell me what it is?”
Marshall laughed. “I’ve got it, Emma. Why don’t we swap? They wanted a few drafts down there.”
She did a little shoulder wiggle. Phew! “You’re a lifesaver.”
“Nope,” Marshall said. “Just saving my skin from Hunter if you did it wrong.”
She patted his arm. “That’s what I mean. I’ll hear it too.” She scooted to the other end of the bar. “Hi, guys. Sorry to ask what you want again. Marshall and I switched. What can I get you?”
“You’re a prettier sight than he was anyway,” the older man said.
“Why, thank you,” she said, taking a bow and getting a laugh out of the two of them.
“We’ll take two number threes on draft,” his buddy said. “Can you believe who that is over there?”
Emma poured the two drafts while she turned her head to see a woman in a slinky dress flirting with the Adonis she had admired a few minutes ago.
If that woman had wet panties, it’d show right through that white cotton for sure with as tight as it was. Shit, her nipples were pretty visible. Was that even a dress or nightwear?
She had to admit the man she’d been admiring was looking everywhere but down. His neck might hurt soon with the way he was staring at the clouds.
Good for him not leering at what good money had bought the chick rubbing his arm.
Lucky bitch, feeling up that muscle the way she’d want to do.
For research purposes only.
She placed the beers down. “Who is that?” she asked.
“The War Show,” one man said.
“Urgh?” she asked. “He’s an actor on a TV show? I’ve never heard of it.”
Not that she watched a ton of TV. Sometimes she did to get a little bit of real-life inspiration or to see what was going on in the world and what readers were into other than what she did on social media.
Both men laughed. The first one said, “No. That’s Warren Showers.
He’s the quarterback for the New England Patriots.
The best quarterback right now in many people’s eyes.
He’s won two Super Bowls in the past five years with two different teams. The Patriots signed him last year for a three-year contract to get them to the Super Bowl. ”
“Did he win one for them?” she asked, turning her head to look at the popular sports athlete again.
It made sense now. Kind of too bad because she had him as an undercover FBI agent for her next hero.
She could still model her hero after him though.
Killer looks, a panty-wetting smile, and great aim with a gun.
A metaphor or the real thing? Yet to be determined.
“No,” the second guy said. “They didn’t even make it to the playoffs.”
She wasn’t too familiar with football but had a sufficient understanding of the lingo.
“Then he didn’t do what they paid him for,” she said, grinning.
“He would have,” the second guy said. “But he missed four games with an injury and the backup sucks and they lost those games, taking them out of contention.”
“You are only as good as your weakest link,” she said cheerfully.
Which was why she liked working alone.
Both men looked at her as if scary clown paint suddenly appeared on her face.
She didn’t think what she said was all that bad, but she was probably wrong.
“Emma, want to take your break?” Marshall said, walking up behind her.
“Yes, I do,” she said happily and moved to the other end of the bar to get her purse and find some food.
She looked at her watch, saw it was four thirty, and all but ran to the outdoor cafe. There were a few restaurants on the grounds. The place had expanded greatly over the years.
She didn’t even bother to get a table, but snuck in the back.
She’d done a stint here two years ago to get some experience as a server. They knew who she was.
“Emma,” Trishelle said. She was the head chef of the cafe. “It’s nice to see you. What can I get you?”
“I’m working at the bar for the weekend. I’ve got thirty minutes. Could I get a burger and fries?”
“Coming right up,” Trishelle said. “It will be ten minutes, tops.”
“Can I wait over here for it?”
“Of course,” Trishelle said. She wasn’t really in the kitchen, just off to the side.
While she waited, she texted Hunter that there was a big sports player at the bar and she didn’t know who he was.
Her cousin would get a kick out of it.
She was seated at a table devouring her dinner when there was a shadow over her shoulder, then the chair pulled out.
Hunter took a seat. “How long has it been since you’ve eaten?”
“Breakfast,” she said. “Or brunch. I’m not sure what you want to call it. I had two pieces of leftover pizza. Who would have thought working the bar would burn so many calories?”
“You burn calories because when you’re not sitting down in front of your computer, you are all but hopping in place.”
“That’s how I get my steps in,” she said, holding up her fitness band. “Otherwise it beeps at me to get off my ass. Kind of an annoying little bugger.”
She set reminders on it so that she didn’t turn into a slug since she could find herself sitting for hours on end with the only movement of her body being her fingers pounding on a keyboard. Too bad she normally snoozed the alarms.
“You could silence it,” Hunter said. “Like you do everyone else that calls or stops over when you don’t want to be disturbed.”
“I don’t do that as much anymore,” she said. “But you never come visit me anyway.”
Not many did because they understood how she was. Her mother normally checked in with one phone call a week; otherwise she got texts from the rest of her family.
But they weren’t always on the island and she didn’t like to leave it.
Or her house.
Hell, half the time she didn’t want to leave the sunroom that she wrote in.
“You only let people on the property if they’ve got kids with them,” Hunter said.
“Then stop over with Ben or Jack. Chelsea knows to come with Taryn.” Chelsea was married to her brother, Roark.
“I think the only person you would stop everything you were doing for is Grace,” Hunter said of their other first cousin. Grace was the executive chef for The Retreat.
“Duh,” she said. “Who wouldn’t let her in? She always shows up with food.”
She was gobbling up her dinner as fast as she could.
Ten minutes left before she had to be back on shift after glancing at an outdoor clock.
Did it matter if she was a few minutes late? It’s not like she was getting paid for this and they all understood her motivation.
She’d even give her tip money to the rest of the staff working for them to split for having to pick up her slack or mistakes.
“You’re going to choke,” Hunter said, laughing. “And give the cafe a bad name.”
“Or people could think that the food is so good that I can’t resist.”
“You can’t resist because you don’t cook,” Hunter said, standing up.
“That too,” she said. “Do you want to go introduce yourself to the big sports guy over there?”
“I’m on my way,” Hunter said.
Her cousin always did those things. Made himself known to important people on his grounds. He wanted them to feel special.
Emma was betting Warren Showers felt special every day of his life.