Chapter 3
CHAPTER 3
NATE
“Wait, so after all this, you still didn’t get this girl's number?” Liam asks from across the burnt barnwood bar.
Since leaving the accountant’s office, I’ve been bartending the country and western style pub. Liam planted his butt on a black bar stool an hour ago to have some dinner and a couple of beers. I just finished telling him the story about the woman in the elevator, and he’s flabbergasted that I did little more than shake my ass.
“Where would that have been appropriate? Before, or after, she called men pigs the first time? Or maybe the second?” I retort, a hip pressed against the bar, my arms folded over my chest.
I shouldn’t expect anything more from Liam, but I always do. I love the guy like a brother, but he’s the definition of a man whore. There’s a constant revolving door of women he finds at the bar to take home with him. Though he’s never actually dated a woman for the entire ten years I’ve known him, I know he’s got a lot more to give than he thinks he has. He just doesn’t allow himself to see, or think, he’s capable of anything other than the playboy bachelor lifestyle.
He picks up his beer and points it at me, concern etched in his sharp facial features and brown eyes. “Dude, the lack of game you have astonishes me. How are we even friends?”
“I have game,” I grumble, grabbing a bar rag to wipe down the counter. It doesn’t need it, but I know Liam isn’t going to let up on my dating life now that I’ve opened the door. I should have known better than to say anything, but I’m a masochist.
“Really? When was the last time you went out with a woman? Hell dude, when’s the last time you got laid?”
“I get laid.”
I do. Or I could. I just haven’t. Life has been hectic. There’s nothing wrong with that. But Liam sits there and stares at me, waiting for me to answer the question. When I don’t, he beams in triumph.
“This is my point,” he says, leaning over the bar towards me. “You don’t get laid. You work too damn much. Dude, you’re a thirty-two-year-old bachelor, wasting the best years of your life. You need to live a little. Get out there and meet some ladies, do some fucking, have the time of your life. Stop working all the damn time.”
I cock an eyebrow at him, and he does it right back at me. A silent conversation passes between us; me asking what I’m supposed to do about the bar, him suggesting I hire someone else to help out. It’s a conversation we’ve had more times than I can count in the last couple of months, but whatever he sees on my face next has him frowning.
Shrugging, I look down the bar to one of my other customers to see if he needs anything. The guy looks alright, so I turn back to Liam.
“I take it your meeting with the accountant didn’t go so well this morning?” he asks, his voice dropping to a whisper.
Besides Jordan, Liam is the only one that really knows what’s going on with the bar and the troubles I’m facing, and he doesn’t even know the extent of it.
Rubbing a hand up and down the side of my face, I shake my head. The list has been on my mind all day, giving me a headache at the base of my skull.
The stress must be showing on my face because Liam frowns, something he doesn’t do a lot. “Shit dude, that’s rough. Anything I can do to help?”
I blow out a frustrated sigh. “As much as I appreciate it, I don’t even know where to start, so you’d be even more useless than me.”
I’ve been a hard worker my entire life, but for the last six months I’ve worked harder than ever, which is starting to take its toll. Between my shifts at the firehouse, and all the hours I’ve been pulling at the bar, I’ve been burning the candle at both ends. It’s chaotic, and I feel like I’m constantly running on a hamster wheel. Usually the firehouse is a reprieve from the bar, and the bar a reprieve from the firehouse, but with this new tax situation, there is zero reprieve from anything. I’m not sure how I’m going to manage everything, but I need to find a way.
There are going to be many sleepless nights in my future. I can feel it. It probably doesn’t help that I’m a guy who hates asking for help. A fact that Liam is usually quick to point out.
I gesture to the almost empty plate in front of him, and he nods that he’s done. After disposing of it in the kitchen, I check on the guy at the end of the bar, grab him a new beer, then make a couple of drinks for Bryn, my head server, before returning to Liam.
“You should have just been your adorable, charming self and asked for her number,” Liam says with a firm nod. I’m pretty sure he’s been thinking about this since I left. “Could have told her you’d show her that not all men are pigs like she thinks. It’s true. I mean, I fit that bill, but you? You’re an upstanding kind of guy that any girl would be happy to have.” He tips his bottle back, but before he takes a drink, he sighs sadly. “Too damn bad you don’t have any game.”
I don’t have a chance to counter before my eyes are diverted to my sister pulling out the barstool next to Liam, sinking into it with a huff. She looks miserable, her brown hair disheveled in a messy bun, her eyes rimmed red. It puts me on edge, wondering whose ass I need to beat.
“What’s wrong?” I wince at the bark in my own voice, the protectiveness I feel for my sister showing.
“Tequila. I need a shot of tequila. Please, Nate.”
My eyes slide to Liam at the same time his move to mine. I can tell just by looking at him that we’re on the same page, both of us ready to kick whoever’s ass has made Jordan look like this.
I do as she asks and grab a glass, filling it a quarter of the way before edging it towards her. She takes it, and we both watch as she downs it without a second thought, not even making a face when she’s done.
“More,” she commands, pushing the glass towards me.
“First, tell me what’s wrong,” I counter, putting the bottle down to cross my arms, holding firm.
For one long second of hell, I think she might burst into a million tears when I see the shuddering breath that she releases. I’m certain Liam feels the same because he stiffens in my periphery. The moment comes and goes with no tears falling, but eyes the color of mine are full of them before she looks down at the bar.
Her voice is barely above a whisper when she says, “I think Paul is cheating on me.”
“Douchebag Paul?” Liam asks, beating me to the punch of questioning her. “I thought you broke up with him a couple of months ago.”
Jordan’s arms slam down on the counter, and she falls forward dramatically, wailing loud enough for both of us to hear, despite her face being muffled by the bar and her arms. “I did!”
If my sister weren’t about to lose it in the bar, I would burst out laughing at the panicked look on Liam’s face as his eyes bounce from Jordan to me, floundering with what to do. His hand is outstretched, ready to touch her shoulder, but I can tell he’s not sure of himself, so I give him a nod to comfort her.
“They got back together,” I tell him quietly as he tentatively pats her upper back.
I wasn’t happy when she reconciled with the asshole, but it’s not my life, and as much as I hate it, I can’t tell Jordan who she should and shouldn’t date. For the most part. She and I have an understanding that she doesn’t date my friends, something that we decided a long time ago when we were still kids.
“He left his phone open on the coffee table when he went to the bathroom, and a text came up,” she says, lifting her head from the counter. I’m surprised to see no tears have fallen, though they’re still there, threatening. “I saw the message come across the screen asking if something was sexy and then I couldn’t help myself. I know I shouldn’t have looked, but I did, and… and…”
“Deep breath,” Liam says with a calmness he didn’t appear capable of a moment ago.
I raise an eyebrow, surprised at the softness in his tone. The guy isn’t as emotionally unequipped as he thinks he is, when he stops letting his brain get in the way. Either that, or his firefighting training is kicking in and he’s treating her more like a patient than a woman on the verge of a breakdown.
He confirms the latter when he takes in a deep breath, showing her how to do it, and lets it out slowly. Jordan follows him the second time and then she nods, closing her eyes for a moment. When they open again, she gestures towards the tequila bottle, and this time I fill her glass.
“Whoever this woman is,” she says, picking up the fresh drink. “She’s been sending Paul all kinds of pictures in her underwear. And he’s been sending shirtless pics back. God, why am I such an idiot?”
“I’m going to kick his ass,” I say, my jaw ticking as anger floods my veins. The only time in my life I’ve gotten into a fight was when a different jerk hurt her—apparently I’m not above making this a thing.
“I’m in, let’s go,” Liam seconds, already moving to stand from his barstool.
“No!” Jordan exclaims, flailing her hands at the two of us. “No, please, don’t. I don’t want extra drama, and you both know you can’t do that. You’re firefighters. You can’t just go beating people up.”
Liam snorts. “We’ll wear masks.”
Jordan levels him with a glare, and he puts both hands up in surrender, slowly sliding back into his seat, but not before he shoots me a look as if to say we can go later when Jordan isn’t around. I ignore him and pour her another small shot of tequila before grabbing a glass to fill with water.
“If you’re drinking that much tequila, you need to follow it with some water.”
Giving me a brief nod, she looks to Liam, her eyes pleading. “Drink with me? I don’t want to drink alone, but God, I need to drink. I just want to forget.”
Liam grimaces. “Uh…”
“Jor, we’re on shift in the morning. Liam can’t drink hard al—” I stop mid-sentence to watch my best friend reach over the bar to grab a glass, then the bar gun. He fills it with water then nods to her glass for me to fill.
“I can’t drink tequila with you, but I’ll still drink with you,” he says, lifting his glass to her. “Fuck the disgusting, filthy pig.”
“Exactly,” she says, clinking her glass against his, happy enough that he’s putting up the pretense of drinking with her, even if he’s not going to get wasted like she is. “Never be those guys, guys.”
Liam chokes on his drink with Jordan being none-the-wiser of how direct her comment is in regard to my day. I roll my eyes, already sensing what’s coming. Liam is about to open his big mouth and tell her all about the woman in the elevator. I don’t want any part of it, so I leave them and wander down the bar.
After checking on my other patron, I make sure Bryn doesn’t need anything. Then I say hello to Martin, my head bartender, when he walks in. We talk for a few minutes about the day before he goes about setting himself up for his shift while I stroll back down the bar.
The sound of my sister’s laughter makes me hopeful that her crisis has been diverted.
It has, for the time being, but it’s at my expense, just as I thought. It’s obvious that Liam has told her, and she turns to look at me while she says to Liam, “Let me guess—he’s trying to claim that he has game.”
“You know it,” he confirms with a smirk.
“Because I do!” I say, jumping to my own defense. “I can get a date just fine.”
“Then why don’t you, brother?”
“Been a little busy, if neither of you have noticed.” It’s the answer I give to everyone. I’m not opposed to dating, or love—hell, I’d welcome it with open arms—but firefighting and the bar come first for me, and I don’t know how to find someone who will accept that long term.
“You don’t even try. Do you know how many women around here look you up and down, giving you the eye? Have you ever realized how many women would love it if you just asked one of them out, or bought them a drink?” Jordan asks, eyebrow raised.
“I leave that up to Liam,” I say dryly.
Jordan tsks with disapproval. “You’re wasting your life away by working so much. I know things haven’t been easy, but Nate, you’re not getting any younger. I worry about you.”
Liam nods his agreement. “I’ve tried telling him the same thing.”
“I could say the same thing about you,” I turn on him, trying to take some of the heat off myself.
He shakes his head this time. “Nope. I don’t want a relationship. Not made for ‘em. You, however, are. You’ve always been the relationship guy out of the two of us, dude.”
“At least go out and get laid, Nate,” Jordan says, filling her own glass this time.
“I do,” I grit out through my teeth.
The only reason I’m entertaining any of this right now is because it’s taking Jordan’s mind off what happened with Paul, and if I can do that, it’s worth it. I think.
“Really? When’s the last time?” she asks.
I throw my hands up in frustration. “Do you two compare notes before you gang up on me? Why do you both have such an interest in my sex life?”
Jordan looks at Liam and frowns. “Is he this grumpy at work too?”
“Getting worse by the day,” Liam confirms with pursed lips and a nod.
They both look at me again, and I glare back. I know Liam is teasing with his comment, but I’m becoming irritated by the two of them. They both know how hard it’s been the last few months. They know where my priorities lie. I won’t let Uncle Pete down. Or any of my staff. Closing down would mean jobs lost, and I won’t have that on my conscience.
Jordan smirks. “This is why we have an interest. You get kind of testy when you’re not getting any action.”
“Five finger action doesn’t count,” Liam adds with a snort.
“Besides, do you really want to go to Mom’s birthday next week without a story to tell all the aunts? I’m not the only one who worries about you,” Jordan says, swishing the tequila around in her glass. “They’re going to be all over you like vultures on a dead carcass if you don’t tell them you’re dating someone. Hell, without proof they’ll be all over you anyway.”
Christ. Our aunts.
We have a great family, but every one of my aunts—my mother included—is far too interested in when we’re planning on settling down with someone. They bug all the cousins, but so many have now gotten married, and had kids, that the spotlight is on those of us who are single. In their minds a person isn’t happy unless they’re married with a couple of kids, and a white picket fence. I know they mean well, but they can be a lot at times.
“I can handle them,” I tell her confidently. “I always do.” I point a finger between the two of them. “Now stay out of my damn sex life.”