5. COLE
five
cole
M rs. Burke grips my arm as we admire the Buchanan House together. “She’s beautiful. I can’t imagine her crumbling to the ground like stale potpourri.”
“Josh and I have already spoken to our father. There’s absolutely nothing he can do to ruin this. He just hates to lose and won’t rest until he exhausts all of his options—and connections.” Sighing, I place my hands on my hips. “This house is protected as a historical landmark. Doing anything to destroy it is against the law. My father knows that. He might be stubborn, but at the end of the day, he won’t risk his professional reputation, or a trip to jail.”
“If anyone can get through his thick skull, it’s you two boys.” She pats my shoulder. “Pardon my language.”
Though it’s not necessary, I nod in acceptance of her pardon. Truthfully, I agree with her. My father has the thickest skull in all of Georgia, which is why Josh felt so compelled to come find me late last night.
I was in the middle of making out with a gorgeous woman—something I never do anymore—and my little brother walked in on us. It felt like I was in high school again, embarrassed to be caught with my tongue in a girl’s mouth.
What got into me last night?
Oh, right. Gigi’s smile. It transformed her frowning eyes into a canvas of stars, and I couldn’t get enough of them—or her.
The sight of her was all it took to turn my damn world upside down.
Mrs. Burke waves to someone over my shoulder, and when I shift, I lock eyes with the same woman from last night. My grin is instant. “Didn’t think I’d run into you again so quickly.”
“Oh, you’ve already met my niece, Ivy?” Mrs. Burke asks me.
I freeze.
Gigi’s eyes widen, and her tan cheeks flush.
“Um, well, we sort of met.” My tongue suddenly feels like it’s made of lead. Mrs. Burke’s attention is still on the house, watching it with pride in her eyes like it’s her child.
While she’s distracted, my focus darts back to Gigi. “Is Ivy your middle name, or a nickname?” I smile again, trying to figure out what I’ve missed.
“What’re you talking about?” Mrs. Burke answers for her. She clearly isn’t as preoccupied as I thought. “This is Ivy. She’s visiting from Atlanta for a couple weeks.”
I clench my jaw as I take in Gigi’s—I mean, Ivy’s —guilty frown.
“Listen, Cole, I can explain,” she pleads.
With great pain, I unclench my jaw and force a smile. “It was good running into you two. Enjoy the rest of your day.” Nodding, I brush past Ivy and make a beeline for Cream and Sugar to get my coffee fix before my shift.
I don’t stop.
She doesn’t come after me.
And not even a rich dark roast is able to lighten my mood.
Coffee and a few muffins in hand, I stalk to my truck to get to work early enough to prepare for the lunch crowd. Not many of them drink at lunch, but it’s Friday, which means it’s happy hour. Retail staff, hair stylists, and a few others around town usually take Friday afternoons off from work to enjoy some relaxed fun.
But nothing about me right now is relaxed.
I can’t believe she fucking lied to me about her own name. I should’ve known better than to touch her.
To kiss her pouty lips.
To like it when she moaned.
Damn it .
I never go so far with women I meet at the bar. I never cross that line, mostly because I’ve known them all since I was in diapers. But I keep my distance from the out-of-towners too. Whether they’re tourists trickling in from Savannah, Charleston, or Atlanta, I keep my fucking mouth to myself because anything else just leads to drama.
As I pull up to the Tap, I vow to myself to never hook up with a random woman again. No matter how mesmerizing her eyes are. No matter how witty or interesting she is, or how good she feels in my arms.
I’ve been chock-full of grand decisions in the last year, haven’t I?
I swing the back door to the bar open with more force than is necessary and come face-to-face with Kenny. “Hey, boss. How’s it going?” I ask on a frustrated exhale.
“ I’m perfectly fine. But is there a reason you nearly broke my door?” He points behind me, where the door sways open and closed, the sun beaming inside with quick bursts of light.
Shielding my eyes, I sigh. “Sorry about that. Just had a weird morning.” I move toward the door and shut it, making sure it clicks. “See? Not broken.”
He twists his lips, then smooths his hand over his stubbled chin. “Get to work.”
“Yes, sir.”
As I rush up to the bar, my chest is tight, and not just because of Gigi—or Ivy . It’s Kenny, who’s a year younger than I am. His father owned the bar when I first arrived, but old man Emerson was diagnosed with lung cancer. He passed the reins to his only son, and even though he’s usually cool, Kenny is still my boss . Answering to another person, especially one who’s younger than me, gives me hives.
I used to be my own boss. For years, I answered to no one but myself, and it was fucking awesome.
“Look who’s early today.” Scarlett enters the bar and ties an apron around her waist, sleep heavy in her eyes.
“Morning, sunshine. Coffee?”
“Always. Black.”
“Always.” I wink, and she rolls her eyes. “You know you love having me around.”
As she wraps her hands around the cup I scoot over the counter toward her, she says, “Of course, but I can’t let it inflate your ego too much.”
“Me? Ego? Doesn’t sound right.”
“My mistake. I must be getting you mixed up with the other Mr. Big Shot who works here.”
I tilt my head toward the coffee. “Enjoy your energy boost. Knock ’em dead today.”
“Always.” She holds up the cup in a toast, then walks away.
I take in the dim bar. It’s quiet during this time of day, but it’ll soon fill up with the lunch crowd. They love the specials Kenny has added since he took over, and it’s been a pleasant change of pace. Serving the people of Sapphire Creek is my favorite part of this job. Sure, I didn’t expect to still work here after a year, but it feels right for the time being.
I go through the motions of the opening shift, starting with making sure the ice bin behind the bar is full. Our ice machine has been iffy for the last two weeks.
After that, I wipe down the counters and ensure the glasses don’t have water streaks. This isn’t the kind of place where patrons care about streaks, not like the bars and restaurants I frequented in Charleston, but I like being thorough.
“I think that glass is clean enough.” Scarlett appears to my right and begins filling small vases with the flowers she picked up from the nursery in town.
I glance at the tall glass in my hands. How long have I been wiping it?
“What time did you leave last night? Did the ladies at table five give you hell?” she asks as another server, Matilda, enters from behind the bar with a basket of silverware to roll.
“Did Lisa try to give you her number again?” Matilda snorts as the array of forks and knives rattle in front of her.
“Every Thursday—it’s the same routine.” I chuckle.
“She’s going to have a heart attack if you ever say yes,” Scarlett teases.
“As will I,” I play along. “The woman is the same age as my mother, and with a worse hip too.”
Scarlett tsks. “You’re no fun. You never have any scandals for us to gossip about.”
Immediately, I remember my inappropriate scandal from last night in this very bar.
“When was the last time you went on a date?” Matilda asks me as she builds a pyramid of rolled silverware next to Scarlett.
“I’ve been on plenty of dates.”
“In this century?” Scarlett, the smartass, cocks a brow.
I scowl. “Yes.”
“What about the woman who was making eyes at you last night?”
“What woman?” Matilda gasps and abandons the silverware altogether as Scarlett and I capture her full attention.
“Her name is Ivy,” I supply through gritted teeth, my tone unintentionally harsh.
Scarlett holds her hands up. “Whoa. Sorry. Didn’t mean to strike a nerve.”
“What happened? Is this the scandal we’ve all been waiting for?” Matilda claps, and I can’t help but roll my eyes. These two twenty-somethings are completely ridiculous.
“As a matter of fact, we made out after everyone left last night.”
Their jaws drop in sync.
“She gave me a fake name, though, so clearly, it meant nothing.” I shrug. “We never have to speak of it again, okay?”
“I make zero promises.” Scarlett’s pursed lips tug into a shit-eating grin. The surprise and disbelief have worn off completely.
“You will make good on a hundred promises if you want me to get your car fixed.” I toss my own shit-eating grin right back at her.
“How do you know my car needs to be fixed?”
“Because I heard it gurgling like a spoon in a garbage disposal from two miles away. You need new brake pads, Scarlett.”
“I can’t afford them, not with the Taylor Swift tickets I just bought.”
Matilda shrieks, and I practically jump out of my skin. “You got tickets? How ? I had three laptops open trying to get tickets!”
“Got hella lucky.” Scarlett dances on the other side of the counter.
“You bitch,” Matilda playfully says.
Thankfully, they’ve moved on from my bleak personal life.
Once they pause their impromptu duet of what I assume is a Taylor Swift song, I offer Scarlett my buddy Austin’s services to fix her car. “I can get you a discount,” I add to sweeten the deal. “After all, I owe you for making you cover for me yesterday.”
“I finally forgive you.” She clutches her chest in mock gratitude, but I know she really means it. The girl works hard, and she deserves to spend her money on a concert. Doesn’t mean her car has to suffer, and Austin owes me a favor for helping him with a legal matter, anyway.
Our first few customers trickle in, and the soft music playing overhead is slowly muffled by their chatter. I nod to a few regulars, then busy myself by filling the drink orders Matilda gives me.
For the next hour, I focus on pouring and mixing cocktails, plus popping tops off beer bottles. I don’t have much time to stew over Ivy, her lies, or her perfect slender curves.
Until I look up and find her sitting at the bar on the exact same barstool as last night.
I pause, stopping the spout of Coke when the glass is only half-full.
“So,” she says. “You’re the spawn of Satan, then.”
“Excuse me?”
“That’s what Aunt Carol told me after we ran into you this morning.” She grins. “Well, her exact words regarding your father were that he’s a loathsome old man . If it makes you feel better, though, she did say his two sons are nothing like him.”
“Thanks, I guess.” I furrow my brow.
She shifts in her seat. “I owe you an explanation.”
I study the bow of her top lip, which dips and disappears as she tugs it in and out of her teeth.
Shaking my head, I continue pouring Coke into the glass. “You don’t owe me anything.”
“I’d feel a lot better if I explained.” She shifts in her seat again. Aside from Charlie at the end of the bar, she’s the only one sitting on a stool.
Scarlett and Matilda meander through the bar, completely oblivious.
I’m stranded without the option to even pretend to be too busy to listen to her.
“My name is Ivy Smith. I lied to you because… Well, I don’t know exactly why.” She laughs nervously as her gaze darts around the room.
My curiosity is piqued, much to my internal protest.
Finally, Matilda appears for her drinks. As she grabs the tray I’ve prepared for her, she side-eyes Ivy with obvious intrigue. I’m never going to hear the end of her and Scarlett’s relentless teasing.
Placing both hands on the edge of the bar, I level with Ivy. “Something tells me you know exactly why you lied but don’t want to share. Which is great because that’s your business. I just don’t want any part of your games, okay?”
“I’m not playing games.” She goes back to working her lip, and it makes me grind my teeth.
“I have to get back to work.” I toss her a tight-lipped smile, fighting my urge to pull all the truths out of her, one by one by any means necessary.
I shouldn’t want to know. She already lied to me once with something as basic as her name, so why should I believe anything else she says? She’s trouble, and I have no interest in becoming collateral damage because of a woman with doe eyes—not again.
“Do you get a break or something?” Ivy asks.
“No.” I make Charlie another whiskey neat and slide it to him.
“You don’t get a break at all? What if you need to… relieve yourself?”
Her formal phrasing forces me to crack a smile, but I quickly wipe it off as I stand in front of her again.
“He gets a ten-minute break in an hour.” Scarlett swoops in out of seemingly nowhere.
I do a double take as frustration bites at my nerve endings.
“Ten minutes? What kind of place is this?” Ivy looks around in horror like I’m in prison.
“It’s Friday, darlin’. Someone’s gotta pour the alcohol for happy hour,” I say and gently nudge Scarlett out of the way. That’s enough of her nosy interruption for one day.
“In that case”—Ivy intertwines her fingers on the counter in front of her, pushing her breasts together, which threaten to spill over her thin sundress—“I’ll have a mimosa and a menu.”
I fight my urge to groan. “Coming right up,” I rasp.
I hand her a menu and retrieve the chilled champagne from the cooler, along with the carton of orange juice. Once I set her drink in front of her, I put in her order for a salad. As I move about behind the bar to pour other customers’ drinks, I feel Ivy’s eyes on me.
And Scarlett’s.
Scarlett and Matilda both shoot me questioning stares and tilt their heads in Ivy’s direction. When Matilda comes by for another drink order, she whispers, “Is this debutante the mystery woman from last night? She’s watching you like you’re made of prime rib. I should tell her you’re more like week-old chuck roast.”
“Have I told you how delightful it is to have you around?”
“Who else would make you laugh? Charlie?” She pats Charlie on the shoulder, and he grunts. “How are you today, Mr. Everett? This summer being good to you and Jack?”
She smiles as she asks more about his German Shepherd, who’s named after Charlie’s favorite author, Jack London. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve heard the old man go on about White Fang .
I make my way back to Ivy and rap my knuckles on the bar. “Going to check on your food. Be right back.”
In the kitchen, I pause a moment to breathe. I shouldn’t be intrigued by her. By her feminine, floral perfume that hovers like a joyful cloud around her, sucking me into her orbit.
I shouldn’t still taste her on my lips.
And I definitely shouldn’t want more.
“Here you go.” Roger sets Ivy’s chef salad onto the counter, then rips the ticket from the line and sets it in a basket for Kenny to go through later.
“Thanks,” I call over my shoulder as I walk back to the bar, grabbing silverware on the way. I place both in front of Ivy and point to her nearly empty mimosa. “Another?”
“No. I’ll just have a water, please.”
I nod and hand her a fresh glass of water. “Enjoy.”
She licks her lips, and again, I fight my body’s reaction to her.
I don’t know her. I shouldn’t be so fucking attracted to her. I shouldn’t?—
“Are you going to watch me eat?” She quirks a brow, and amusement dances in her eyes.
I clear my throat. “Just want to make sure I’m here to let you know if you get broccoli in your teeth.”
“I deserve that.” She giggles into her napkin, obviously remembering her joke from last night.
When we kissed.
When she was Gigi.
No matter how upset I was this morning to find out she lied, something about her doesn’t add up. She’s Mrs. Burke’s niece. She’s witty and funny. Proper and smart.
And I’m drawn to her.
Something tells me she doesn’t make a habit of lying, and I’m too desperate to learn her story to brush off this thing between us.