Chapter 7
Paige
PAIGE WINCED AT the sound of breaking glass. It wasn’t even six and she already had a mess to clean up.
Only this time, she was the one who created it.
“Oh my gosh.” Delores, the bartender scheduled to work alongside her tonight, stared down at the mess spilled across Paige’s boots. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Lie. She was not okay. Not by a long shot. “It just slipped.”
That part was true. The whiskey rocks had slipped right out of her hand. It happened the second she looked up and saw Leland walking through the door in all his uniformed glory.
It was a regular occurrence. One she was normally quite capable of handling. But tonight, the sight of him was a reminder of the shameful way she’d acted the last time they were together. How she was all hot and bothered and considering rubbing herself all over his unsuspecting morning boner.
Embarrassment bit at her insides as she crouched down, obscuring her entire body behind the bar.
Delores came at her with the small hand broom and dustpan set they used to handle minor messes. Paige took the items, sinking even lower. “Thanks.”
She wasn’t hiding, per se. She was simply doing what had to be done.
Did it also mean Leland likely wouldn’t be able to find her and she wouldn’t be required to attempt to look him in the eye after spending the majority of the past few days thinking about the part of him she’d successfully ignored for years?
Hopefully.
Like the coward she was, Paige took her time, making sure every tiny shard was collected, sweeping each one into the dustpan before tipping it into the trash bin a couple feet away.
Once that was done, she fumbled around on the counter above her head in search of a bar rag.
Thankfully, she’d left one within reach.
After grabbing it, she went to work wiping up the stickiness clinging to the scarred hardwood she’d had refinished right after her dad died.
Again, she took her time. Ensuring every drop was wiped away.
Didn’t want to get ants. It was fall, but still. Those little things could be pesky. Probably.
By the time she was finished, it’d easily been ten minutes since Leland walked in. If she was lucky, he’d looked around, assumed she’d gone home for the day, and left.
It would be impossible to avoid him forever—not that she wanted to—but a little distance would probably do her some good. It would definitely do her libido some good.
Once there was no more reason to continue hiding— cleaning —behind the bar, she slowly straightened, hands gripping the edge of the counter as she pushed up.
“You must’ve made one hell of a mess. That took a while.”
Fuck.
Leland was standing on the other side of the bar, leaned against it, eyes crinkled with amusement.
Paige continued rising, even though all she wanted was to drop to the floor and pretend he couldn’t see her. “I just didn’t want to risk anyone stepping on glass.”
One hand went to her hair, smoothing it down while the other did the same with her deep blue dress. Leland had seen her in just about every state imaginable, from sick with the flu to completely decked out for formal events, so it was ridiculous she was worried about how she looked now.
Forcing her hands to drop to her side, she fought on a smile. “Busy day?”
Leland shrugged as he slid onto the barstool across from her, obviously prepared to settle in. “It’s actually been pretty quiet.” His lips curved into a smile. “Way quieter than Monday night was.”
He was acting perfectly normal. Like he had no clue about her… reaction to him. Which was great.
Fantastic.
“You’d cry too if you had all that gas stuck in your stomach.” She pulled out a glass, filling it with a scoop of ice and Leland’s normal on-duty drink of choice, before sliding the Coke Zero across the counter.
His smile turned teasing, dark eyes sparkling in the low light of the bar. “Would you give me the same treatment you gave him?”
Her head tipped back on a genuine laugh. “You know what? I would.”
Leland picked up his drink, taking a sip before lifting a finger in her direction. “I’m going to hold you to that.”
“That doesn’t surprise me at all.” She continued laughing as she left him to go serve a set of women who’d approached the bar. Unfortunately, once those women had their drinks, another group took their place. And then another.
And then another.
Soon the bar was packed, Leland was nowhere to be seen, and she was racing around, trying to keep her head above water.
It was still a little surreal how busy the place got considering the run-down cowboy bar her father left her when he died had barely made enough to pay their bills when she was a kid.
In the years since he’d passed, she’d worked hard to morph it into the kind of place everyone in Moss Creek would feel comfortable coming for a drink.
Because cowgirls needed alcohol too. Especially since they were the ones frequently dealing with the cowboys.
And most of those cowboys didn’t know how to act right.
And at eight o’clock, one of the least right actors came striding through the door. He stopped a few feet in, eyes narrowed as they scanned the space.
Paige groaned because she knew exactly what he was looking for.
“Shit.” She took a few steps back, getting behind the bar before crouching down, trying to hide for the second time that night.
Carlton Tucker was a cross between John Wayne and Gaston from Beauty and the Beast . He was big and obnoxious with bulging muscles that were absolutely pharmaceutically enhanced and two brain cells he hadn’t quite figured out how to rub together to create the spark of thought.
And for some reason, he was enamored with her. Probably because—like Belle—she was completely and totally uninterested in him in any and all capacities.
“It’s too late. I’m pretty sure he already saw you.” Delores grimaced. “Even if he didn’t, that guy’s got a freaking sixth sense about where you are at all times.” Her eyes dipped to where Paige was hiding. “It’s creepy.”
Creepy wasn’t the word she would have used. Annoying. Obnoxious. Aggravating. All of those fit perfectly. Creepy insinuated that she was unnerved by Carlton’s attention. She wasn’t.
It fucking pissed her off.
As the owner of the only bar in Moss Creek, she’d dealt with her fair share of unwanted advances, so it would take more than a turd like him to freak her out.
But just because it didn’t unnerve her, didn’t mean she wanted to deal with it.
Especially tonight. Tonight she was over everything. Men. Her job. Herself.
And that was a dangerous place to be, because even under the best circumstances she could be a little... Abrupt.
“You want me to deal with him?” Delores leaned back against the bar, one brow angling. “I’m probably way less likely to assault him.” She tipped her head. “Which isn’t saying much, because I would love to punch that guy right in his face.”
“Don’t do that. He’d probably like it.” Paige scowled.
“Men like him want a woman they think they can tame. They get off on the idea of breaking us. That’s the only reason he’s interested in me.
” She straightened, deciding maybe a little altercation would help her relieve some stress.
“They don’t realize better men have tried.
” She turned to give Delores a smirk. “And most of them have cried.”
As predicted, Carlton seemed to hone in on her location like she was some sort of a fucking beacon. His head immediately snapped her way, eyes sharpening as they landed on where she stood behind the bar.
Too bad there wasn’t a cliff anywhere close by. She would love to go all beast mode and shove him off one. As it stood, she would have to settle for jabbing him with insults that would likely go right over his big head.
Carlton cut through the crowd before sidling right up to the bar. He leaned against it, giving her a megawatt smile that probably tricked women who’d never met him before into thinking he was attractive. “Fancy meeting you here.”
She didn’t bother stifling her sigh. “What can I get you?”
“I would love your number.” He went straight for the kill tonight.
Normally, he beat around the bush a little.
Tried to wear her down. Tonight, Carlton cut right to the chase, which wasn’t a good sign.
“I want to take you places.” He leaned closer, lowering his voice to what he likely thought was a seductive tone.
“Places I’m sure you’ve never been before. ”
Sick.
“Coming right up.” She turned away before he could say another word, moving to the line of liquor across the shelving at the back of the bar.
She pulled out two glasses and went to work filling each one with concoctions she thought would be the least palatable in existence.
Once she was finished, she dropped an olive into one and a cocktail onion in the other.
Turning back, she set them on the bar in front of Carlton.
“There you go. Want me to add them to your tab?”
His eyes dropped to the drinks before lifting back to hers, dark brows pinched together. “What are these?”
Paige pointed to the drink with the olive. “This is the Take You Places .” She motioned to the other. “And this one is a Where You’ve Never Been Before .” She widened her eyes, feigning confusion. “Those are the two drinks you ordered, right?”
Carlton blinked at her and she could almost see his two brain cells running around trying to figure out what was happening, crashing into each other in their panic.
She gave him a smile, stepping away before either of them could come up with something. “Let me know if I can get you anything else.”
She must have confused the fuck out of him, because he stayed where he was, staring down at the glasses she’d placed in front of him while she moved on to the rest of the customers lined up. If a combination of Fireball and Blue Curacao didn’t tell a man she wasn’t interested, nothing would.
A couple Carlton-free hours later, she was preparing to pat herself on the back for finally successfully getting through his thick skull, when his whiny voice whispered in her ear as she was collecting empty glasses from an abandoned eight top.
“Was that your way of flirting with me?”
Ugh. He would try to think that.
“I can promise you I wasn’t flirting.” She stacked the final glass on her tray and tried to turn away.
Her movements stalled when his heavy hand clamped onto her elbow.
In all the times he’d tried to get her attention, he’d never touched her, and that had led her to believe maybe things wouldn’t get out of hand.
But the way he gripped her now was tight.
Firm enough it would take a few good yanks to get loose.
Or a serving tray to the forehead, whatever worked.
“I know you think it’s fun to play hard to get, but I’m starting to get impatient.” Any fake charm or false smoothness was gone from his tone, leaving behind nothing but flat aggression. And just like his fake, megawatt smile, the change probably affected most women.
But most women hadn’t grown up helping their dad run a bar full of ranch hands.
“I’m sure you think you’re doing something here, Carlton. But I promise, this is not going to go the way you want it to.” Her voice was sweet enough he should be terrified. Should know he was dealing with a woman on the edge of snapping.
But Carlton was stupid. Stupid enough to think she wouldn’t knock his teeth out of his face.
“What I’m doing, is giving you one more chance to take the gift I’ve been trying to offer you.” He inched closer, his hold on her tightening. “Do you know how many women would kill to be with me?”
She gave him a sweet smile. “No. But I know how many would kill to get you to let them go.” Her hand tightened on the tray. “Because I’m one of them.”