Chapter 7 Duke
DUKE
“Gimme another,” Too Drunk Johnny said, holding out his empty beer mug.
It would seem my workday was starting off with a bang if the town drunkard was already three sheets to the wind. I snagged the mug from his grasp, moving to fill a fresh cup with water. “How ‘bout one of these instead?” Ice rattled against the chipped glass as I shook it in his face.
“Bah! You’re not getting soft on me now, are ya, boy? I ‘member when you were just this tall,” he said, holding space between his thumb and pointer finger, which made no goddamn sense.
Setting down the rag I was using to wipe the bar, I forced my eyes wide. “Dad? Is that you? Mom said you went out for milk—”
Johnny rolled his eyes, jerking the water from my grasp. “Dick,” he mumbled between desperate gulps. “You know what I meant.”
“Just like you know we’re not gonna overserve your ass. Get sober and get a ride, Johnny. Don’t make me call Beau,” I groused, snatching his keys. With a loud clatter, I dropped them into the steel canister behind the bar we’d lovingly nicknamed “the drunk tank.”
Every night was the same. Johnny came in, drank as much of the cheapest beer I was willing to serve him, and then tried to push his luck for more.
The man had been battling demons for as long as I could remember.
As much as I hated enabling his bad habits, at least I could keep an eye on him here and get him home safe if he got too drunk.
“I swear I’ve only served him a couple of beers, Duke,” Sawyer said, looking warily around me at the grumbling man who was more than likely flipping me the bird behind my back. “He wasn’t this bad earlier. Need me to call Beau?”
I shook my head. “Not worth it right now. Make the call if he tries to snatch his keys back.” I thumbed over my shoulder to the canister. “I’ve seen him make a mad dash over the bar before.”
Sawyer smiled and nodded her head, turning back to the steaming dishwasher. “I’m just gonna finish putting these away and then I’ll head over to the cabin, okay?”
“Sure thing. I made lasagna for dinner. Help yourself to as much as you want.”
“You didn’t have to do that, Duke. I brought a sandwich.”
I leveled her with a glare. “You insulting my cooking?”
“Of course not,” she hurried to say, wringing her hands in front of her. “It’s great! I just mean—”
“Be sure to take a plate for your grandma, too. You know where the Tupperware is. I happen to know Maeve loves my cooking,” I added.
Sawyer looked away, chewing on the inside of her cheek.
The poor girl didn’t have the best home life growing up.
Her mom got mixed up with the wrong crowd when she was just a baby.
The best thing that woman ever did was drop Sawyer off with her grandmother before disappearing from her daughter’s life.
While Maeve might not have had much, she gave Sawyer the best life she could.
The least I could do was treat the eccentric old woman to an occasional free meal.
“Duke—”
I shook my head. We went through this almost every week. “You help take care of my bar and my kid, Sawyer. I can cook you some damn dinner.” Her lips twitched at the exasperation in my tone. “Consider it a perk of the job if you have to. Just don’t argue.”
“You know how much I adore Harper. It’s an honor to watch her.” Sawyer’s eyes always softened when talking about my daughter. Sometimes I wondered if it hit a little too close to home, but I didn’t dare pry. Not when Harper enjoyed Sawyer’s company so much. “I appreciate it.”
“I appreciate you,” I said, placing my hand on her shoulder. “Now get out of here, will ya?”
Sawyer gave a two-finger salute as she closed the dishwasher and headed for the door. I moved behind her, watching through the dirty back window as she trudged up the walkway to our cabin. Once she was safe inside, I walked back to the bar and studied the room.
Sundays were usually quiet. So much so that I rarely worked them.
Regulars lined the bar top, gossiping like old hens.
I swore some of them were worse than the ladies at bingo.
Behind them, the tables were empty save for one or two lone patrons.
I almost glossed over the person in the back booth, but the flash of color stole my focus.
I wasn’t sure what caused Olivia Hart to be drinking alone at three in the afternoon on a Sunday, but it couldn’t have been good.
Her back was to the bar, shoulders hunched forward.
Silvery blonde hair was pulled back in a low bun at the nape of her neck, allowing me to see her side profile.
She stared straight ahead, eyes seemingly unfocused.
The only movement she made was to occasionally lift a glass to her lips.
As much as I didn’t want to, I decided it was best to say something to her. We may not have reunited on the best terms, but I could swallow my pride and thank her for the groceries. I’d intended to pay her back anyway. Might as well suck it up and get it over with now.
After checking on the regulars, I rounded the bar and touched the other tables one by one.
There weren’t many, which meant it was a shitty way to procrastinate.
Two empty glasses sat on the worn wood. Her water was untouched.
As she finished what was left of the third, she closed her eyes and sighed.
“Are you stalking me?” I asked, crossing my arms. It was my piss-poor attempt at a joke, but judging by the glare Olivia sent my way, it didn’t land.
“Lukas said you didn’t work on Sundays,” she muttered, circling one perfectly manicured finger around the rim of her glass. There was something about her that was different than before. For how tense she was, you’d think I just asked her to defuse a bomb.
“Usually don’t, but here I am.” I wasn’t going to tell her that the only reason I was here today was because of her.
How I couldn’t stop wondering what she had thought of Harper and I living in that tiny ass cabin, or the fact she’d driven clear out of the way to make the delivery in the first place.
I needed to do something other than sit around and let my mind run rampant.
There was only so much laundry a man could do while keeping his sanity intact.
“Here you are,” she echoed with a sigh. Those same deft fingers rubbed at her temple as though trying to dissolve a headache. “Just give me a minute and I’ll be out of your hair.”
“You’ve been drinking.”
Olivia snorted. “Very observant. I have been.”
I crossed my arms. “Well, you can’t drive.”
“No shit, Sherlock. I was going to call Lukas.” Then she groaned, hanging her head.
“Nope. Scratch that. If I call Lukas, then he’ll give me a lecture, and I really don’t want one of those.
Maybe I could call Cleo… Or Grady, even.
Lord knows I’ve picked him up from this bar more times than I could fucking count. ”
Her voice trailed off as she reached into her expensive purse and pulled out her phone. I wasn’t sure if I should give her privacy or not, so I decided to be useful instead. “Give me your keys.”
Olivia turned to me, eyes narrowing. “Why?”
“So I can put them up knowing you’re not a danger to yourself or others,” I bit out. “Bar rules.”
Honestly, those were only the rules for Too Drunk Johnny and the occasional rowdy out-of-towner that crossed our path, but I wasn’t taking any chances with Olivia.
Knowing her, she’d slip out without so much as a word and walk home just to spite me.
Then I’d be stuck calling everyone we knew to make sure she got home safe. This seemed like the safer option.
“Since when?” She leaned over, giving me a perfect view down her shirt. The perfect breasts hidden beneath the tight cotton blouse.
What the hell was I doing?
I tried looking away, but it was too late. The way Olivia’s lips curled told me she’d caught me staring. I was seconds away from apologizing when she cut me off. “Well, Duke? Since when has that been a rule?”
The way she said my name, accentuating the K in that flirty fucking tone of hers, had my dick twitching behind my jeans, which took me by surprise.
Since Sarah left, I hadn’t so much as looked at another woman.
I was too jaded and too goddamn tired to even entertain the thought of hooking up with someone.
Besides, it wasn’t like I couldn’t scratch that particular itch myself.
My hand worked perfectly fine and it didn’t come with expectations.
“Since I took over and got sick of drunks trying to dip out on tabs and get behind the wheel,” I gritted out. It wasn’t a total lie. Johnny had nearly taken out the big ass neon sign out front on more than one occasion. But I’d never needed to use the jar for anyone else.
“Are you worried I’ll leave you with the bill?” she asked, quirking a brow.
“No, but—”
“What about drunk driving? Does that seem like something I’d do?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, letting my eyes slide closed for one blissful moment of silence.
“Always a pain in my fucking ass.” When I glanced back at Olivia, she was waiting patiently for a response as though she didn’t have a care in the world.
This morning, I would’ve believed the lie.
Would’ve let her keep the facade going. Seeing her drunk in my bar at three in the afternoon told another story, though.
“Well?” she asked.
“I’ll let you keep your keys if you tell me why you’re here,” I countered, widening my stance.
There was no point answering her previous question because no, I didn’t think she’d drive drunk.
Especially not after what happened with her dad.
It may have been over twenty years ago, but I knew how his death affected both of his kids.
There was a brief flash of surprise before Olivia masked it with sarcasm. She picked up her empty cup, ice rattling against the glass as she shook it slightly. “It’s a bar. Why do you think I’m here?”