Chapter 5
Chapter Five
BLUE
The whole town knew who Westley Brooks was, but very few had actually spoken to him. He wasn’t the type to show up at Fiddlers on a Friday night. But no one was more shocked than Buddy “whatever the fuck his name really was” Murphy.
Buddy was big and had a tough aura, but he cowered to West and took the entire bar by surprise.
Well, except for West himself. He acted as if he was used to people bowing to his requests.
It was both impressive and irritating. Anyone who could make a Murphy backpedal like that deserved a slow clap, but I had wanted to be the one to deck him, and West had stopped me.
Who the hell did he think he was?
Then he just… left. And Tuffy and I spent the rest of the night trying to figure out if we’d somehow stepped into the Twilight Zone.
Tuffy had lived in Harmony Haven her whole life and was old enough to know everyone’s dirty laundry, but she said it was only the third time she’d seen West in person.
And the whole town must have felt the same way, because the next day, when I stopped by the grocery store, people were still talking about it. The cashier lit up when she saw me, acting like it was Christmas and begging me to spill every detail.
“Why was West Brooks at Fiddlers?”
“Was he staying in Harmony Haven?”
“Was he as good-looking as his brothers?”
I didn’t know the answers to the first two, but the last one? That one was easy. Miles and Easton were two of the best-looking men I’d ever laid eyes on. There was a reason they were Harmony Haven’s most eligible bachelors. But West? West was a whole different breed.
He didn’t just have looks, he had a presence. An aura. The kind that made people sit up straighter and watch their mouths. Miles and Easton charmed you. West made you feel like you needed to justify your existence.
By the time I clocked in for my Saturday night shift, the bar was already packed. The buzz was electric. Everyone was hoping to catch a glimpse of him again, as if he were a celebrity sighting.
“I seriously doubt he shows his face again,” Tuffy said, pouring drinks while a group of women leaned across the bar. “He’s more of a recluse.”
“I ran into Easton at the fire station,” one of them offered. “Brought cookies to the crew. He acted like he didn’t even know West was in town.”
“Maybe they’re trying to cover something up,” Tuffy mused. “You know Miles is off on that tour with Loxley Adams. Maybe he’s coming home early and West is here to greet them.”
“No,” I cut in, interrupting the gossip train. “Loxley’s got two more weeks on tour. Miles isn’t coming back before then.”
They nodded like that settled things, but I knew better. The gossip never stopped. Truthfully, I didn’t care why West Brooks was in Harmony Haven. As long as he stayed out of Fiddlers—and out of Pecan Grove—he wasn’t my problem.
“Incoming,” Tuffy muttered under her breath.
I looked up, half-expecting to see West just because we’d been talking about him. But it was the Murphy brothers again and that time, they didn’t look like they were in the mood to be kicked out politely.
They looked like they wanted revenge.
“Out!” I shouted, loud enough that every conversation in the place came to a halt. “You’re no longer allowed in here.”
“Who’s gonna stop me?” Huck snarled, reaching out and grabbing my wrist. I tried yanking myself free, but his grip was too tight.
“I am,” came a voice from behind Huck. Smooth. Calm. I didn’t even have to glance his way to know it was West.
“Excuse me?” Buddy growled.
“You are no longer allowed inside this bar,” West said, stepping forward with that same unshakable energy from the night before. Huck dropped my wrist as West got between us, and backed up two steps before he remembered he wasn’t scared of West.
“You don't get a say so, Rich Boy,” Buddy sneered.
“Actually,” West replied, his tone cool but razor-sharp, “I’m the new owner of this place. And I’ve already informed the police captain that if you’re seen on the property again, you’ll be arrested for trespassing. The last owner might not have cared, but I promise you, I do.”
My stomach dropped. I started shaking my head before I could stop myself.
No. No, no, no.
I had worked too damn hard to run Fiddlers the way I needed to.
Jeff may have been a lazy, arrogant jerk, but at least he let me do things my way.
If West really owned the place, I was screwed.
Fiddlers wouldn’t be Fiddlers anymore. It would be…
Flutes. Or Violins. Or some other pretentious musical instrument.
Dammit.
While I spiraled internally, West moved toward the Murphy brothers, and despite all their bluster, they backed down. Watching them retreat under West’s stare was almost surreal.
The rest of the bar, the ones who had come hoping to see him again, were now clustering near the counter, pretending they were only there for drinks. One particularly bold woman pushed to the front and reached out to run a finger down his chest.
Before she made contact, West caught her wrist firmly, and gently set her hand on the bar.
“Sorry,” he said, professional as ever. “I need to speak with my employees.”
She nodded, completely missing the rejection, as if he were just too busy to flirt. But I saw the look on his face. It was the same one the Murphy brothers had worn when they realized he meant business.
Fear. Maybe even terror.
“Is that why you’re in town?” I blurted out. “To buy a dive bar? What, the hundred little houses you scooped up weren’t enough?”
“Excuse me?” His brow furrowed, and he leaned back slightly, eyes narrowing.
“Never mind,” I muttered, brushing past him to get back behind the bar.
“Wait,” he said, lifting a hand to stop me. “We need to talk about the future of this place.”
“I’m sure whatever you do, Mr. Fancy Pants, it’ll be fabulous.”
“I don’t want to change anything,” he said, low but clear.
“Then why buy it? So you can own one more thing in this town?”
I hadn’t planned to say that part out loud. But it came out anyway. It was more personal than he could ever imagine.
He didn’t answer. Instead, he grabbed my hand and pulled me down the hall beside the bar. The corridor led to the restrooms, the storage room, the back door, and a tiny office Jeff always kept locked. But when West tried the handle, it opened.
He pulled me inside and shut the door behind us.
“You need to watch how you talk to me,” he said, voice low and tense.
“I’m not scared of you,” I snapped. “You’re just some rich guy in a suit. Don’t expect me to bow down and kiss your feet.”
“And don’t expect me to let my employees talk to me like that,” he fired back.
“Oh, I’m sorry, sir,” I said in a sugary, mocking tone. “Please tell me why you decided to buy Fiddlers.”
“After last night,” he said through clenched teeth, “I made Jeff an offer he couldn’t refuse. Cash. He signed this morning.”
“Well, congrats,” I clapped once, slow and sarcastic. “How would you like me to serve you?”
“Just get back to work,” he muttered, exasperated. “You’re the manager now. Run it however you want.”
Then he left, slamming the door behind him.
And I stood there, stunned, staring at the door like it had personally betrayed me.