4. Brooks
FOUR
Brooks
B anging on the door has me whipping my head up from where I’m counting the till. I put a finger up to tell Nick I’ll be there in a minute, but the face of the thorn in my side stares back at me from the other side of the door.
“We’re closed! Your hazing session is over!” I shout, flicking my eyes back to the money in my hands before transferring it to the bank bag, moving it into my office, and locking it in the safe.
As I do all of this, the banging on the door continues.
Grumbling, I march toward the door, my hand itching for my bat as I unlock it and open it. “The night is over. You’ve had your fun. Go back to your hotel…” I look around, realizing the cabs I called are nowhere in sight.
“I think I left my phone inside if you’ll just move…” her words trail off as she pushes past me, her lithe body brushing against my front as I turn, my astonishment written all over my face as she meanders to the table Tay’s party had been harassing customers from all night long.
“Didn’t I call you a cab? Why are you not in it?” I ask her, letting the door shut as she gets on all fours and crawls across a floor I wouldn’t dare my worst enemy to touch. I can’t actually recall the last time I cleaned it.
“Didn’t I call you a cab,” she drunkenly mocks as I cross my arms over my chest, eyeing her ass as she feels around beneath the booth for her phone.
I flick my eyes up, scolding myself for how long I looked in the first goddamn place. Then I try stowing some of the building aggravation in my chest before it erupts, and the shrapnel lands all over the floor of my bar, along with every other emotion my patrons left behind tonight.
She leans forward a bit more, reaching as her shirt tugs up and her thong peeks out of the top of her pants.
“Fuck’s sake!” I muse, pulling my phone from my pocket to click on the flashlight before bending and pointing it so she can see.
“Aha! Got it!” she slurs.
Thank fuck.
She stuffs the phone in her oversized bag of party tricks she lugged in here earlier, and I move to the door, opening it as she grimaces at me, her pretty lips in a line that says she’s had enough of me for one night.
The feeling is mutual.
“Never known you to open the door for me like a gentleman,” Nick says playfully, tipping his hat to me as he walks through the fissure with Joe’s pizza in hand. The scent of it wafts along with him on the breeze I’m letting in.
He eyes the little fucking menace as she shifts her bag onto her shoulder but says nothing. He turns once behind her, darting his eyes at her in question instead.
“You have your phone. Time to go.”
She turns her gaze on Nick, looking him up and down before swinging her glassy gaze back to me. “That pizza smells heavenly.”
Great, Nick walked through the door with the one thing drunk girls can’t resist: carbs.
“It is! Best in the tri-county area,” Nick muses, opening the box. “Got some garlic knots, too. We’ve got plenty if you want to st—” He trails off, seeing my gaze harden. “No,” he says, slamming the box shut as she leans inward, “don’t think there will be enough, actually. I have to… feed the local squirrels and all that…”
Fuck’s sake. He’s never been good with the pressure of awkward situations. I scrub my hand down my face as she looks between us.
“Squirrels?” Her sinful lips tip up, and I can’t help glaring at them.
The way they curve like a bow but are full and soft… I growl inwardly, batting the fucking thought away as I grab her by the shoulders and lead her closer to the door. “Time. To. Go.”
“But the cabs, they left, and…”
“Oh, come on, man. We can feed the squirrels another night,” Nick jokes, and I narrow my eyes as she escapes my hold and heads toward Nick.
He grins and opens the box just in time for her hands to head toward the pizza.
“Stop!” I shout, startling even Nick.
All eyes swing to me as I heave a calming inhale. “At least be civilized and go wash your hands first. You were just crawling on the floor, after all,” I tell her.
Nick snaps the box closed. “Not cool, babe. This is Joe’s finest mega meat trio. What were you thinking?”
I fight a laugh as she puts her hands up in defense with a menacing smile plastered on her face. “Sorry! I didn’t know it was Joe’s finest!”
Seeing Nick banter back and forth with her makes my stomach churn. Shit, seeing him with a smile on his face is something I never thought I’d see again. When he returned to US soil, he was a shell of his former self, and I wagered my life to get even an ounce of this version of him back.
She drops her bag onto a table and saunters toward the bathrooms while Nick moves to the bar and places the pizza down.
“Who the hell is that?” he whispers as if she can hear through walls.
Fuck, maybe she can. She’s got powers of some kind if she can make Nick laugh as much as I’ve witnessed in the last few minutes. If you’d have asked me about an hour ago, I would’ve told you she was Ursula the Sea Witch, given legs to torment men on land.
“One of Taylor’s bridesmaids for her and Spencer’s wedding next weekend.”
I pull out three glasses, filling each with ice before shooting soda in them with the bar gun. I shove one toward Nick before placing the other next to him.
He opens the box of pizza, and I tear a slice off. I close my eyes and moan. “Fuck, I needed this.”
Opening my eyes, I find the alluring hazel ones of my nemesis staring back at me as she pauses beside Nick, a pink tinge filling her cheeks as she gapes at me.
“What?!” I ask, gripping a bar towel and wiping my mouth clean of whatever the fuck she’s looking at.
She needs no more ammo tonight. I’m going to have wounds for days after all the shit she pulled in my bar. Butch won’t have it any other way. No one has ever dared to act how she has. If she were anyone else, I’d probably respect her more for going toe to toe with me.
She sighs, rolling her eyes as she slips onto the stool next to Nick. “Nothing.”
She raises her hands to both of us as if to allow us to inspect them before she digs in. “Do you want to smell test them?” she asks Nick.
He laughs again, and its melody nearly patches my soul, which has been a little broken for the last few years.
“No, pretty lady, we trust your word for it.” He pushes the box toward her as I tug at a piece of my crust.
Even if she’s nice to Nick and makes him smile, she’s a pain in my ass. I remind myself of that fact as I add more bricks to the wall that had slowly been coming down around my heart as I watched them interact.
She licks her lips as she tears into the biggest slice, her fiendish throat singing praises for Joe’s cooking instead of curling around the notes of a country song.
I gulp down half my soda as Nick looks between the two of us, narrowing his eyes.
“So,” he drawls out, “what’s your name?” he asks, swiveling toward her on his stool.
She looks up at me, seeming to mull over the idea of giving it to him in my presence.
I grind my teeth. She has this thing about her. I can’t quite put my finger on what it is, exactly, but it’s fucking annoying. I know that much.
“Indie,” she says as she swallows down her pizza.
My head tilts. Of course, I knew her name already. Taylor introduced us awkwardly when I shut down their little karaoke stunt before closing, but there’s something about hearing her say it.
“That’s a cool name. Original.”
It’s fitting for someone who shines brighter than anything around her. Independently illuminating every space she’s in like a star.
What the fuck is the matter with you? Get your shit together!
The inward chiding does the trick, breaking me out of my stupor as I turn and start washing the glass that’s now empty in the sink behind me, all while keeping my ears open to hear their conversation.
“My mom was from Washington and in her hippy phase when she had me. There was a girl named Willowbark in my kindergarten class,” she says, grabbing a garlic knot and sinking her teeth into it.
I lick my lips as I watch her eat. I feel like a bystander in my own bar.
Nick laughs. “Stop! No, there wasn’t!”
“There was, and I think there was an Apple, too.”
“Now you’re just pulling my leg.”
“No, I’m not!” She laughs, and I swear the electricity in the place flickers, given more power by the notes in her tone.
I slam my hand down on the bar, nodding toward the pizza box. “You’ve had your pizza. Get your bag. I’ll take you back to your hotel.”
She swallows, looking at Nick as if he’ll save her.
“Man, what has gotten into you tonight? I know you’re always high-strung, but this…”
I whip my gaze toward him, and he puts his hands up in defense. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger, but you’re being an asshole.”
“Oh yeah, and who are you delivering this message from?” I sneer.
He playfully points toward Indie, and she bursts out laughing.
“It’s true; I told him that.”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t encourage her. She’s drunk.”
Nick gasps, feigning shock. “Indie!”
She shrugs, sliding off the stool. “It was an accident. Honestly, it’s a miracle I got drunk with all the interruptions to my night and my drinking. In all fairness, I should be drunker.”
Making my way around the bar, I pull my keys from my pocket. “I’ll be back,” I tell Nick.
“Oh, don’t rush on my account.” He winks at me, and I snap my teeth at him.
Indie looks over her shoulder as she grabs her bag. She narrows her eyes at me before smiling at Nick. “I never got your name?”
He stands, wiping his hands on his jeans before offering one to her. Of course, he pompously pulls her hand up to his lips and kisses the top of it before telling her, “Nick Holt, it’s been a pleasure to meet you.”
I roll my eyes at him.
She looks between us, likely trying to suss out our relationship.
“This brute is Brooks Holt, my brother,” Nick adds, and she grins.
“Makes sense. There’s usually a balance in a family, isn’t there? One nice brother, one mean one.”
Nick places his hand over his heart. “I’m flattered, ma’am.”
“Cut the shit,” I tell him, shuffling over and opening the door, holding it wide for her exit. I’ll be glad to be rid of her. However, I won’t be truly rid of her until the wedding week ends. Fuck, it’s going to be a long ass week.
“Well, clearly, I’m the nice brother,” Nick says as Indie finally approaches the door.
“Thanks for the pizza,” she tells him.
“Oh, you’re welcome,” he says, his tone full of enough meaning to knock me over the fucking head with it.
I give him a look before leading Indie toward my beat-up truck parallel parked in front of the bakery a few shops down from the bar, opening the door for her as I stand back.
“You sure you’re okay with taking me? I can Uber,” she says.
I shake my head with a grin on my face. “Ain’t no ooober here, city girl. This is Abaline. Plus, I have a feeling if I don’t take you myself, you’ll haunt my bar for the rest of the week.”
She scoffs, hopping inside and setting her bag down in the middle of the bench seat. “I promise you, I’ll never come back to your bar.”
“Thank God,” I snap, slamming the door shut as I take a few steadying breaths and make my way to the driver’s side.
The end of the week can’t come fast enough.