Chapter 3
Blake
It only happened this morning—greasy slicks of death coming in on the tide—but the Tidal Tavern numbers are down already. Most people wouldn’t notice a difference: laughter and voices mingle with the music and clinking of glasses as people unwind at the end of the day, just like a normal afternoon, but the locals look stressed, and there are empty chairs dotted around the place.
I’m weaving through the groups clustered around tables, round black tray balanced on one hand, offering smiles and light-hearted banter to my regulars, trying to quell my worry.
“Hey Jimmy, ready for another beer?”
Jimmy is a wizened older guy. He runs a garage in town and often pops in for a drink after work. “You know it, Blake. Need to drown my sorrows after the news today. Besides, my body is no temple.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s not a temple. It’s a microbrewery with legs.”
The familiar scent of burgers and fries fills the air, and a group of pretty young women walks through the door.
Moving through the tavern, I feel the knot of worry in my stomach tighten. There are definitely fewer bodies pressing against the bar waiting to order drinks, while people are looking worried as they exchange stories about what they’ve seen. The usual bustle feels just a bit off, like a familiar song played in the wrong key.
“Blake, can we get another round here?” A guy at a corner table calls out, and I flash him a quick thumbs up.
“Coming right up!”
Behind the bar, Lucy Tanner is pouring drinks, her brown hair pulled back in a neat ponytail. She hands a couple of glasses of house white to a customer and catches my eye. “You okay, Blake?”
“Yeah, just worried about the spill. Plus, numbers seem down already. I can’t believe it.”
Carlos Ramirez, our part-time waiter and bouncer, stops with a tray of burgers and fries. “People were talking about it non-stop at the hardware store today. It’s bad, Blake.”
His broad shoulders and calm demeanor usually make me feel more secure, but today, his words only add to my anxiety. The bar is my own version of controlled chaos and is pretty much the center of my world these days. This is supposed to be the busy season, and the very last thing me and Mom need is another hit.
Taking a moment, I survey the scene.
The bar is filled with people of all ages, laughing, talking, the scent of alcohol, sweat and perfume lingering in the air. The round tables are occupied by groups of friends and couples chatting and enjoying their drinks, while the small dance area is alive with bodies moving to the beat of the music, the stairs leading to the roof terrace visible behind them.
In front of me, parallel to the back wall lined with shelves holding bottles of liquor, is the long wooden bar, a handful of customers eagerly waiting for their next drink, while my uncle works in the kitchen on the food orders. John and Yu Chan, our summer glass runners, move between tables, clearing empties and delivering fresh drinks and food.
This is my place. It may not be perfect, but it’s mine to run however I want. My moms have owned it for years, but lately they’ve been leaving me to my own devices. They trust me, and the last thing I want to do is make them think I can’t handle this, especially with everything else going on between them.
Yu Chan pauses at the bar. He’s a pre med at college and full of enthusiasm and energy. “I need a round for table seven. They said to put it on their tab.”
“Thanks, Yu Chan. Let’s keep things moving, guys.” I reach for the cranberry juice, pouring it into the cocktail shaker, suddenly remembering Jimmy’s beer and the round for the guy who ordered earlier. Yu Chan and Carlos have already disappeared and I ask Lucy to make their drinks.
“Got it.” Lucy leans in, catching my eye as I finish the cocktails for table seven. She was a couple of years below me at school, and her brother Jake is a good friend of mine. “Try not to worry. I heard they’re starting the cleanup efforts soon. Things will get better.”
I pour a shot of whiskey and slide it across the bar. “Let’s hope so.”
Carlos sets down his tray and loads up an order of drinks. “People are canceling their bookings at my aunt’s bed-and-breakfast. I think tourist numbers are going to be way down for the rest of summer.”
My mom Trudy has enough on her plate without worrying about business, too. And Mama Charlotte—well, she doesn’t need another reason not to come home.
The night wears on, and I move through the bar, filling orders, cracking jokes, and doing my best to keep the energy high. As I hand a drink to a regular, I catch a glimpse of the news on the phone in his hand—images of oil-slicked beaches and struggling wildlife flash across the screen.
My heart sinks, feeling sick about the wider impact of the spill. I’m worried about the Tavern, but I love these beaches, this place. I may not have grown up here, but it’s home.
“Blake, we’re out of gin,” Lucy calls out, snapping me back to the present.
“I’ll grab some from the back.”
I head down the narrow corridor to the storeroom, pausing in the small, dimly lit space that smells of beer and the sharp tang of spirits, and lean against the wall. The moment of quiet gives me a chance to breathe, to center myself. No matter what, I need to keep my worries about the Tavern from Mom.
Back behind the bar, I hand Lucy the gin and see the Valiant Hearts boys walk in—Patrick, Lucy’s brother Jake, Antonio, and Mike. By the time they make their way to the bar, I’ve got their usual orders lined up and ready.
“Hey, guys. It’s on your tab.” A lump forms in my throat as they take their drinks and thank me. It’s impossible to be around the guys and not think about Danny.
Patrick looks at me, a serious expression on his face. “Thanks, appreciate it.”
They head upstairs, no doubt to discuss the oil spill. A short time later, the door swings open again, and in stroll Liam and Ethan, late as usual. My eyes lock with Ethan’s, and a surge of heat floods through me. How could it not? He’s gorgeous—black curly hair, those piercing gray eyes, and an athletic build that draws every girl’s attention.
“Blake,” Liam greets me with a friendly smile. He looks like a fairer version of his older brother Patrick, but the two couldn’t be more different.
“Hey, you two. Your usual?”
As I pour their drinks, Ethan’s eyes are on me. I hand him a beer, condensation running down the glass.
“Thanks,” Ethan says, his voice smooth and warm.
“Anytime. How’s our bird rescue going? Any news?”
“He’s doing well the last time I checked in with the rehabilitation center.” Ethan holds my gaze and a tickle of heat warms my core, until Liam calls his name.
They head upstairs to join the others, and a guy at the end of the bar catches my eye, waving me over. I plaster on my professional smile and head in his direction.
“Hey there, beautiful.” He leans in closer than necessary. He’s already drunk. “I’ll have a scotch on the rocks. What’s your name?”
“Blake,” I reply, setting his drink in front of him a moment later. “Can I get you anything else?”
“How about your number?” His teeth are too small for his mouth, and his eyes rove over me in a way that makes my skin crawl.
I force a laugh. “Sorry, not on the menu.”
He doesn’t take the hint. “Aw, come on? I can show a girl like you a good time, trust me.”
“I’m busy working,” I say firmly, turning away to help Lucy with a big order.
But he’s more insistent than most, getting up from his stool and following me as I head back toward the storeroom to get some more vodka and lime juice.
“Don’t be like that,” he says, trying to grab my arm.
I brush him off, irritation bubbling just below the surface. “I said no. How about you go back to your seat and we can both get on with our nights?”
He follows me into the narrow hallway, bumping against one of the walls as he stumbles. “Just one night, gorgeous. What’s the harm? You and me could burn the house down.”
I’m about to turn and give him a piece of my mind when a familiar voice cuts through the tension. “She said back off. Leave her alone, buddy.”
Pivoting to see Ethan standing there, his presence filling the narrow space, anger sharpening his features. The guy looks at Ethan, taking in the broad of his shoulders, the expression on his face, like he’d think nothing about putting the guy in the hospital.
After shooting me a filthy look, the guy mutters something under his breath about frigid bitches and edges around Ethan, retreating back to the bar. Ethan steps closer, his eyes intense as he looks me up and down, making sure I’m not hurt.
The air feels thick and electric, like walking into a room filled with buzzing neon lights. It’s almost tangible, the tingling sensation you get when lightning is about to strike.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, I had it under control. It’s nothing new.”
Ethan’s gaze doesn’t waver, and for a moment, it’s like he’s looking right inside me. “You shouldn’t have to deal with that.”
“It’s fine. He wasn’t a threat, just a nuisance.” The last thing I want is Ethan thinking I need a knight in shining armor to save me. I’ve always stood on my own two feet. I’m not going to stop now, even though a little voice in the back of my head said I didn’t mind feeling just a little bit protected.
“I know you can handle yourself. Just... be careful, okay?”
“Always.” Ethan’s a good guy, but I don’t need him, or anyone else for that matter.
Ethan hesitates for a moment, as if he wants to say more, but then his head drops a little, his hair falling into his eyes. He turns away and I watch him go, my heart pounding for reasons that have nothing to do with the unwanted attention from earlier.