Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
Harrison
“Wow, Hayd, you aren’t messing around, are you?” I ask. I eye the tray he’s holding with eight shots. I assume two for each of us.
He shrugs. I glance over at Holden, and there’s no denying the concern on his face.
“Yeah, well, you’re gonna need these,” Hayden says. He doesn’t make eye contact with me.
Huh?
Hayden passes out the shots and insists we drink the first one at the same time. So, we do.
“Fuck, Hayden.” Henry sputters through a cough. “J?ger? Seriously, are you trying to kill me?”
“You’ve become more of a wuss since you got married. You know that, right?” Hayden asks.
“Sure. Whatever you say.” Henry takes several gulps of his water, presumably trying to get the flavor out of his mouth.
Hayden smiles. He actually fucking smiles, and it’s damn good to see since it happens so infrequently nowadays. The thought saddens me.
Hayden’s always been on the quiet side, more like me than like our more boisterous brothers, but he was engaging and happy.
Now he’s more withdrawn, and he isolates himself.
Yes, he’s grieving the loss of his marriage, but I’m concerned about him.
His newly found habit of drowning his sorrows in alcohol worries me.
“Here,” Henry slides his second shot to the middle of the table, “One of you take this. No way am I doing another.”
Holden swipes it before Hayden can. He doesn’t like J?ger either, but I’m guessing he’d rather down it than let Hayden have another. I down my second shot without waiting for them, eager to get it over with.
I stand. The need to stretch my legs and walk off some of the restlessness is strong.
“I’m going to get a beer. Everyone want one?”
Holden and Henry nod when I glance at them. When my gaze reaches Hayden, his eyes bulge, and he’s gripping the back of his neck.
“What is going on with you tonight?” I ask.
“Nothing.” He sighs. “Yeah, I’ll take a beer.”
“Was that so hard?” I don’t wait for an answer before I huff and walk away.
When I’m only four or five feet from them, Hayden calls out my name, and I stop and glance over my shoulder.
“Just don’t be a dickhead.”
I prevent myself from telling him to shove off and resume making my way to the bar.
He’s more off than usual tonight, and I don’t want to start an argument with him.
Moments later, everything clicks into place.
The reason Hayden looked stressed when I offered to get him a beer and told me not to be a dickhead had nothing to do with him. Zilch.
It had everything to do with her. Delaney Larson is bartending here tonight, and she’s dressed sexy as sin while she’s doing it.
My first instinct is to skip the line and cut off the guy she’s serving.
He’s ogling her ass in that amazing skirt whenever she turns away from him.
Instead, I use up the ounce of control I still possess and stand in her line.
I’m fourth in the queue, which means I must watch three other men interact with her.
I want to pound all three of them into the ground—the first, for his blatant ogling, the next two for shamelessly flirting with her.
It’s while she’s preparing the drinks for the man before me that she glances up and notices I’m next in line. Her eyes almost pop out of her head, and a small gasp escapes her. Her cheeks turn ruby red, and she rips her eyes off me and turns her focus back to her customer.
“You okay there, sweetheart? No need to be nervous around me. I don’t bite. Unless you want me to, that is.” Seriously, the sleazeball thinks that’s a good line? Creep.
Irritation flashes over Delaney’s face, but she rapidly masks it. She’s professional as she rings him out.
“I’ll see you again soon, gorgeous.” The man turns to walk away, and Delaney must read the agitation in my posture and the slight step I take in his direction, fists clenched.
“Harrison, no.” There’s a pleading tone in her voice that instantly stills me, so I force myself to let the man go and turn to her.
“What can I get for you?” I notice her hands are a little shaky.
“What are you doing here, Delaney?” My eyes bore into her. I want to throw my suit jacket around her body and drag her alluring ass out of here.
“Crocheting,” she deadpans. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m working. Now, what can I get for you?”
“Why are you working here? In that outfit, nonetheless.”
Her eyes flicker to life with fury. It’s a far cry from the uncertainty they had in them just seconds ago.
“It’s none of your business how I dress or why I’m here, Harrison. Now order something, or please step out of the line.”
“Fine,” I hiss. “Four beers. Whatever you have.”
She moves to get me the beers, and I follow her with my eyes.
I loathe the uniform that’s intended to expose her for the pleasure of those coming to the bar.
A woman can wear whatever makes her feel good about herself.
But I hate the idea of any woman being made to wear something that puts her on display so that she can work.
Shit. She already has two of the beers poured, with the third almost done.
“Why are you working here?” My tone is softer this time.
Delaney ignores me and finishes working on my order. When done, she rings me up, plasters on a forced smile, and thanks me as I put a twenty in the tip jar.
I take my tray of drinks and march to the table I’m sharing with my brothers. As I approach, they’re eyeing me warily. What the hell did they think I was going to do, Hulk out at a high-end charity event?
I set the drinks down.
“Damn it. Way to be unreliable,” Holden says to me, annoyance dripping from his voice. “Here.” He slides a twenty-dollar bill across the table to Henry.
I narrow my eyes at the pair of them, but I don’t have time to figure out what they’re playing at. I pick up a beer, chug half of it, and turn back to the bar.
As I walk away, I hear Holden demand his money back and Henry answer, “Double or nothing.” The asshats are betting on how I’ll react to Delaney being here. Let them bet. I’ve got more important things to address.
I wait patiently in Delaney’s line three more times over the next thirty-five minutes. I’ve tried everything I can think of to get her to talk to me, but she won’t budge.
I’ve just returned to the table and added four more beers to the conglomeration that I’ve previously dropped off. But this time, when I turn to go back to the bar, Holden is in my path.
“Stop, Harrison. Okay, man?” He places a hand on my shoulder.
“Take your hand off of me and move out of my way.” My tone leaves no question that I mean business.
“What are you hoping to accomplish? Do you want to embarrass her? I’m guessing you’ve already accomplished that.”
“Fuck you. She won’t tell me why she’s here,” I growl. I don’t say that it worries me that maybe we aren’t paying her enough, or she’s in some financial trouble, or something else just as bad.
“She doesn’t have to tell you. It’s her business. You think this is easy for her? Having her bosses show up when she’s working a side gig as a bartender in a low-cut blouse probably doesn’t top her list of fun ways to spend her Friday night.”
“Go to hell. Don’t look at her blouse or any part of her,” I hiss.
“Really? That’s what you took from what I said? Fine, asshole, be my guest. Go ahead and screw up any chance you have with her.”
Holden steps around me, and I stand still for a few seconds. Then, despite the fear niggling at me that he might be right—that I might ruin things with her—I head back to her line and step into it.