Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
BLUE
“I absolutely cannot believe you’re married to Mr. Moneybags,” Tuffy whispered as we served drinks to two out-of-towners who were more interested in each other than in the bourbon I was handing over.
“It’s like I said,” I replied, flashing a quick smile. “We had a crazy moment and just did it. But that doesn’t mean we’re blissed out in holy matrimony. We still have to, like… learn each other’s middle names.”
“It’s like one of those reality shows. I watch them all the time. But they usually wait, ninety days or something. You two just put the cart before the horse. The poor horse is somewhere lost in a field.”
“Something like that,” I laughed as she walked down to grab another order.
I glanced toward the end of the bar, wondering if West had chickened out.
He’d said he’d join me behind the bar, but it had been at least fifteen minutes since I left him in the office.
And for a guy who could cut billion-dollar deals before breakfast, the thought of working behind a dive bar in his hometown seemed to rattle him.
I was about to go check when he finally appeared, looking more relaxed than I expected, but only on the surface.
The sleeves of his borrowed shirt were rolled up over his forearms, and he walked with that casual sort of confidence people only get after years of knowing they’re the smartest guy in the room.
But his eyes were still too tight. Still scanning. Still braced.
Then he saw me. And just like that, something shifted in his whole body. The tension in his shoulders dropped. His mouth curved into this slow, crooked grin that hit me somewhere between my stomach and my knees.
He nodded toward the patrons at the bar as he got close enough to speak. “What side do you want me to take?”
Laughing, I threw my head back and shook it. “I’m not gonna toss you in the deep end alone. You can barback for me. Help out.”
“Whatever you want,” he said with a wink, brushing past me and heading straight for Tuffy.
“Good to finally officially meet you,” he said smoothly.
Tuffy stared at him, slack-jawed, probably wondering how she’d ended up slinging beers next to a man who looked like he belonged on the cover of Forbes.
“N-nice to meet you too, Mr. Brooks,” she stammered.
“Call me West,” he said.
From that point on, things moved fast. Orders came in quicker than we could fill them.
Mostly from women who definitely didn’t frequent Fiddlers, but had somehow gotten word that the town’s most eligible billionaire was behind the bar.
I wasn’t gonna lie, it was tempting to lean across the counter and flash my ring.
Maybe with a little smile and a “hands off, ladies, he’s taken.
” But that would’ve stirred up more trouble than it was worth.
So I kept my cool, slapped on a smile, and took the next round.
Three women at the end of the bar all wanted something different and complicated, so I lined up the glasses and reached for the tequila, but West already had it in his hands, twirling it like a damn baton.
“I got it,” he said casually.
I stepped back and watched. He didn’t just make the drinks, he performed.
No measuring, no recipe. Just instinct. He added juice with a flick of his wrist, squeezed a lime, rimmed a glass with salt, and did it all without breaking stride.
When he was done, he nodded toward the drinks and tilted his head at me.
I slid the glasses down the bar. The women took a sip, giggling like they were tasting something illegal. Then I looked back at West.
He wasn’t watching them.
He was watching me.
“What’s next?” he asked, still smug as hell.
I rolled my eyes. “I should’ve known you could bartend.”
He didn’t answer, just smiled and started taking the next order himself. For the next two hours, we worked like a well-oiled machine. Me, West, and Tuffy were a weird little trio slinging drinks and pretending everything was normal.
And frankly, it was kind of fun.
Once the crowd thinned, we took a few minutes to restock and reset the bar. I slid up beside him, nudging his hip with mine.
“So… I take it this isn’t your first rodeo?”
“Surely you don’t think I just woke up with a few billion in my account, do you?”
“Honestly?” I snorted. “I figured you popped out of the womb wearing a three-piece suit.”
He chuckled, then turned serious. “After I left Harmony Haven, I worked behind the bar at a little place in Atlanta. Learned quick that people open up easier when there’s alcohol involved. Makes them honest.”
I nodded. “Same with small towns. Cheap beer and too much time, next thing you know, everyone knows everything about everyone else.”
He looked at me and nodded with a small knowing smile. It hit me how different this night was from what I imagined. It was better, and I wanted to do it all over again.
“Hey, darlin’,” I heard the familiar drawl coming from the other side of the bar and my heart dropped.
I almost forgot Aiden even existed. “You sure know how to make a guy suffer,” he went on, grinning like we had some kind of inside joke.
“Been walking around all week thinking about you, waiting for the day you finally make good on all those promises you fed me.”
I opened my mouth, scrambling for some kind of polite brush-off, but before a single syllable could escape, West was there.
Not behind me. Not hovering to the side. Right there. So close his arm brushed mine when he stepped forward, his hand flattening against the bar with deliberate force. His entire body angled toward Aiden like a predator closing in.
“Excuse me?” West’s voice was low, tight, every syllable sharp enough to cut.
“Wait, West—” I tried, but the words died on my tongue.
Aiden finally registered him, blinking fast. “The hell’s this about?”
“She’s not going anywhere with you.” West didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. The calm in it was lethal enough.
Aiden’s smirk faltered. “What’s it to you?”
West lifted his left hand, the glint of gold catching in the low light. His eyes never left Aiden’s face when he said, flatly, “I’m her husband. Which means it's got everything to do with me. Blue is mine. You got a problem with that?”
For a second, one stupid, reckless second, I thought Aiden might puff up and push back. But then West’s stare landed on him full force, cold and unblinking, and I watched the fight drain right out of him. His jaw worked, but no sound came.
My heart kicked hard, my mouth bone-dry. West wasn’t just bluffing, he’d laid everything out in the open without hesitation. And God help me, he looked like he’d enjoy it if Aiden gave him a reason to escalate.
“I should, uh… I should leave,” Aiden muttered, already backing up. His bravado crumbled as he all but tripped over himself in his rush for the door.
I turned on West, heat rising to my cheeks, ready to scold him for overstepping. For terrifying a guy who had no idea things had changed. But the words never left me.
Because one look at West stopped me cold.
The hard set of his jaw. The muscle ticking there. The way his eyes followed Aiden until the door slammed shut, like he hadn’t fully ruled out dragging him back just to finish what he started.
“You good?” I asked, my voice softer than I intended.
He didn’t glance my way, just gave a single, clipped nod. “Of course.”
“Kinda feels like you went a little caveman there for a sec,” I joked, which wasn’t entirely a joke. West had clearly had a possessive nature that gave me whiplash against his good natured demeanor.
“Just didn’t want him getting the wrong idea,” West side, then started wiping the counter mindlessly.
For the rest of the night, West barely left my side. He made drinks and even convinced Tuffy to let him stock the fridge in the back. Every time I looked at him, he seemed a little more comfortable. A little more present.
And then the door opened again.
I glanced up out of habit, and once again found myself frozen in place.
Because standing in the doorway, wearing a worn Kings cap and a face that hadn’t graced Fiddlers in weeks, was Easton Brooks.
He was a former regular turned lover boy when he met Jesse.
Any other night and I’d have been glad to see him come into the bar.
But he had a look on his face that made me think he wasn’t there for drinks and a good time.
Tuffy gasped. “Uh oh—?”
“Yep,” I whispered, heart slamming in my chest.
Easton scanned the bar slowly, his eyes landing on West, then slid to me. His brows rose slightly, his mouth twitching into the beginnings of a smile.
“Well,” he drawled. “Ain’t this something.”