Chapter 2
KENDRA
“Drinks for table nine.”
The bartender moves two wine glasses out of the way to fit the last beer on the tray.
I have to use two hands to pick it up and carry it over to the rowdy table in the corner.
I take at least a minute to weave between the busy tables, stopping as a woman pushes her seat back right in front of me, nearly spilling the entire tray of drinks.
“Sorry, I didn’t see you.”
“No problem.” I’m the queen of patience, having waitressed across the country for the last six years. It’s all about smiling and waiting and keeping it together no matter what happens.
I set the drinks down at the table and collect the empty glasses.
Both the evening shifts I’ve worked have been like this. I’m happy for my brother that the place is so busy. Business is good for him and the club.
I’m on my way back to the bar with the tray of glasses when Travis saunters in. My feet stumble, and water sloshes over the side of one glass. I catch myself before the entire tray goes down.
Damn, that man can still make me lose my balance.
I thought six years might have dulled my feelings, but when I saw him sitting at the bar this afternoon, his biker jacket on, a layer of messy stubble over his strong jaw, and silver flecked through his hair, my heartbeat went up several notches and it hasn’t come back down.
Now my palms are sweaty, and I’m having trouble concentrating on my tables.
I thought my girly crush on my brother’s best friend might have dulled, but nope. It’s turned from a girly crush to a womanly longing. One look at Travis’s broad shoulders and tight white t-shirt and there’s damp heat between my legs and my nipples are tingling.
Too bad he’s not interested.
My hair falls across my face, and I curse myself for the pink streaks I’ve had for the last few years.
I thought it looked edgy and cool, but to a man like Travis it probably shows how young I still am.
His hair is peppered with silver, and there are crinkles at the sides of his eyes.
He’s the kind of man that needs a woman, not a too-chunky girl playing dress up.
“Excuse me. Can I get some ketchup?”
The woman’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts, and I turn to her. “Sure.” I give her my best smile. “I’ll bring it right over.”
I deposit the glasses at the bar and grab a bottle of ketchup to take back to the lady.
“Food’s up for table eleven,” the slight girl in the kitchen calls.
I give the lady her ketchup and head over to the serving hatch. As I walk past the bar, the skin on the back of my neck prickles. Glancing up, I catch Travis watching me. His dark eyes dart up from my butt, and he looks away.
Did I just catch him checking me out?
All kinds of heat courses through my body, and I wipe my palms on my apron as I get to the serving hatch.
“Someone can’t take their eyes off you.” Maggie waggles her eyebrows, and I glance back to see Travis staring at me again.
“He’s been watching you all night,” Maggie whispers. “Again.”
Her mousy brown hair is pinned up under a chef’s hat, showing off her round face dusted in freckles.
I met Maggie when I arrived yesterday and liked her immediately.
She’s supposed to be a cook but has been helping anyway she can in the kitchen.
She’s quiet but observant and will be one hell of a chef one day.
I don’t know where my brother found her, but she’s so petite she looks like a kid working in the kitchen.
“I’ve known Travis for years,” I say, trying to brush it off. “He’s just being friendly.”
“Uh-huh,” she says with a knowing smile.
The plates are slippery in my sweaty palms, and my feet seem to have trouble walking. I wish Travis would disappear into the back office so I could get on with waitressing without feeling like my knees are about to give way.
I deliver the food to table eleven. There are a bunch of empty glasses and I clear them off the table, holding the tray over my head and maneuvering through the crowded restaurant to get back to the bar.
Arlo, the bartender, is preparing a sampling board for table thirteen. They’re a bunch of hipsters who must be staying at the ski lodge judging by the way they’re dressed. They’re the only ones here whose flannel shirts look freshly pressed and whose beards are neatly trimmed.
I shake my head to myself, marveling at what a good thing my brother has going on here. The brewery provides decent beer for the locals and craft beer for visiting hipsters just like these.
I scoot around the side of the bar with my tray of glasses, thinking I’ll put them in the dishwasher since Arlo is busy.
I don’t notice Travis until I get around behind the bar. He’s crouched down restocking the fridge. He stands up abruptly, and I run straight into the solid muscles of his chest. My feet stumble, my breath leaves my chest, and this time there’s no saving the glasses.
The tray goes down. Glass shatters everywhere. The smashing sound silences the restaurant, and all heads turn to me.
There’s a moment of utter silence. Then someone claps and the restaurant cheers, and everyone goes back to eating.
“I’m so sorry.”
My cheeks heat with embarrassment. Of all the people to run into, it had to be Travis. I drop to the floor at the same time as he does, almost bumping heads. I pick up shards of glass, trying to ignore the fact that I’m so close to him I can smell his scent of hops and some musky male body wash.
“It’s okay. I’ll take it out of your pay.”
I glance up at him, and his lips twitch. “I’m kidding. It happens all the time.”
Now he’s being nice. I’ve been waitressing for the last six years, and not once have I dropped an entire tray of glasses or seen anyone drop an entire tray of glasses. Travis must think I’m an incompetent klutz.
“I don’t know what happened.” I pile broken glass onto the tray while embarrassment claws at my skin. “I didn’t expect you to be hiding behind the bar.”
He chuckles, and it’s a deep throaty rumble that I feel in my bones.
“I was stocking the fridge. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
He startled me the moment I walked in the door. I came back to help my brother and to see if my feelings for Travis had changed. That’s a big nope.
Travis’s hand shoots out and clasps me around the wrist. Heat from his touch skitters through my body, and my breath hitches.
“You’ve cut yourself.”
I glance down at my hand, and there’s a thin trickle of blood oozing from my index finger.
“Damn.”
Travis lets go of my wrist, and I slip my finger between my lips. A metallic taste hits my tongue as I suck hard to stem the blood flow.
Travis makes a strangled noise, and I glance up at him. He’s staring at my mouth as I suck the finger between my lips.
His pupils dilate, and a low growl rumbles from his chest that I feel all the way to my core. My skin heats with embarrassment as I realize what this must look like, even as heat floods my panties at the hungry way he’s looking at me.
Travis stands up quickly, and the moment passes.
“Get a bandage on that. I’ll get this cleaned up.”
He saunters out of the bar area without looking back.
I watch him go with a new lightness in my chest. Travis is attracted to me, I’m sure of it. If only I can get him to see me as something other than Quentin’s little sister.