Chapter 17 #3
Without warning, a crashing noise comes from the backroom.
Followed by a scream. Eamon jumps from his seat, and we both sprint to the back.
The first thing we see is Jada. She’s on the floor by the ice machine, whaling and holding her ankle.
“Ahhhh! Fuuuuck…!” Tears stream down her face as she grits her teeth.
Everyone gathers in the backroom, standing around an injured Jada.
“What happened?” Eamon barks. Connor answers while drying his hands on a towel, “Ice machine appears to be leaking. She came to the back to grab more glasses but probably didn’t see the puddle. She slipped. I’ll get this mopped up and fixed right away.”
Eamon nods before kneeling to scoop Jada in his arms. He proceeds to carry her out to the bar. She looks like she is in a lot of pain, but also has this smug look about her, while being carried by our extremely handsome boss.
Jada is taken to the nearby walk-in clinic by Eamon and seen immediately.
She apparently has a small ankle fracture.
They said she’ll need at least six weeks to heal.
That’s not good. The new hires weren’t experienced enough for busy nights, and I was a little concerned about being down a seasoned staff member.
I could manage on weekdays, but weekends were a whole different story.
Garron and Dax take up residence at their usual spot along the bar top, while Brittany does the job of two people on the floor.
She doesn’t seem to be salty at all this evening and I’m thinking that’s thanks to Jada being gone.
A couple hours later, Eamon returns from dropping Jada off at her house.
She has two roommates to help her get around over the next couple of weeks.
Eamon joins his friends at the bar and motions for me to come over to him.
“What will it be, sir?” I ask with a touch of playful sarcasm.
A smile plays on his lips, while his buddies watch our interaction from behind their drinks. “I’d like your favorite drink,” he proclaims.
“I don’t have a favorite,” I state dryly.
“When you're not on the clock, then. What would you make yourself?” He presses.
“Soda or water usually. I don’t drink.”
Garron all but shoots beer through his nose. The other men pull back slightly. Garron grabs a fist full of bar napkins in an attempt to pat his face dry.
“You don’t drink?” Eamon inquires.
Dax raises an eyebrow, curiously but still seems unfazed by this revelation.
“I… I lost my brother some years back to an overdose. I haven’t touched alcohol since. Drugs either.”
Garron’s the first to pipe up, “Well, you didn’t die!
So, I don’t see the point in—” Garron is cut off as his face thrusts forward slightly from Eamon, giving him a good whack to the back of his head.
In an authoritative tone I haven’t heard before, Eamon commands Garron to go for a long walk.
Garron stands with his damp shirt and walks out the door without question.
Eamon reaches out, resting his hand on the bar top, silently inviting me to place mine in his.
I do, and he lifts it to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to my knuckles.
“I apologize for my ox-headed friend. Losing someone you love can be a lifelong battle.” He continues holding my hand lightly, rubbing a thumb over my knuckles. “Now, about that dinner.”
I get lost in his jaded eyes and sharp, masculine features.
“I already got a table at the Oceanfront Steakhouse, this Wednesday for dinner. Does that work for you?”
Very presumptuous of him to make a reservation before we get through this whole, keeping things from me, issue.
Although, it would be ideal to spend time with him somewhere other than the bar.
For the first time in a while I have butterflies fluttering in my stomach.
I nodded, probably smiling too wide. I have more to ask him. Eamon looks pleased.
Dax sets down the glass he was sipping from, hard. I thought for sure it was going to shatter. He pushes back from the bar and walks out the big red door, following the same path Garron went.
“What’s up with your friend?” I inquire.
“He can come off as difficult at times. He doesn’t speak. There was an incident a while back, his vocal cords were damaged.”
I think back to the first couple times we’ve interacted. I guess… yeah, I’ve never heard him utter a word.
Eamon continues, “He’s a furiously loyal friend.”
I chew on my bottom lip. “Does he know sign language? I had a tutor who practiced with me when I was younger. I became fluent. Even though hearing aids allow me to hear, I still wanted to have another way of communicating.”
He takes out his phone, bringing the productive conversation to a halt. I miss the warmth of his touch, instantly.
“Not sure actually…” he finally replies. “Sorry, little fish, I have something urgent to attend to on the other side of town.” He stands from his seat. “I’ll pick you up at your place. Eight o’clock.”
I smile again.
“Great. It’s a date.” He turns to stride away, then stops suddenly, returning back like he forgot something. He puts out his hand for me to place mine in his again, kissing each knuckle individually, as he watches my reaction. “See you soon, beautiful.”
My cheeks heat and I can’t help but admire the way those slacks hug his delicious ass as he walks out of the bar.