Chapter 2
Tori
Personal boundaries meant nothing to this woman. She treated property lines the same way she treated speed limits — optional and only for other people.
I should’ve dragged her back the second I heard her heels clacking across the porch, but by the time I made it over there, she was already bossing the new guys around like she’d been hired as their interior designer.
Typical.
The men looked almost identical, except for the scattering of gray hairs in one’s close-cropped beard and in the inky black hair at his temples. They were both tan, tattooed and massive.
The taller one, with his broad shoulders, accent and bright smile, looked like he was actually entertained by it. That should’ve been my first warning.
People who encouraged Gran’s nonsense were dangerous. Either they didn’t know what they were getting into, or they did know and enjoyed the inevitable ensuing chaos. Both were equally bad in my books.
This dude was well over six feet and oozed an easy-going patience in the face of Gran shoving furniture around as if she were auditioning for a home makeover show.
He filled up the whole damn room just standing there, with his broad chest and those tree-trunk thighs.
I was five-three on a good day and I spent half my time at the gym, teaching guys twice my size why it was a mistake to underestimate me.
But standing in front of him, I had the distinct and irritating feeling he could pick me up and move me out of the way like one of those boxes if he wanted to.
Easily.
Probably one-handed.
Which only made me bristle harder.
So, when he introduced himself with a genuine smile like we were going to be best friends, I gave him the only answer the situation warranted.
What else was I supposed to say?
‘Nice to meet you’? Invite him over for pie?
No fucking chance. He was too big, too cheerful, too … much. I didn’t have the energy for someone like him setting up camp in my life, even temporarily.
Kai had one of those faces you tried not to look at but always ended up doing so anyway. Sharply defined cheekbones combined with an easy warmth. His features were striking, but his expression softened them, making him appear friendly and approachable.
While this wasn't the first time I'd seen him, I hadn't been prepared for just how massive he was up close. His uncle was right up there with him, too. They definitely looked alike with their black hair, arms adorned with traditional-looking ink, and thick physique.
Kai was dangerous for multiple reasons, and I wasn’t about to let him and his never-wavering, brilliant smile anywhere near me. I didn't trust anyone who smiled so much. It just seemed unnatural. What the hell was he so happy about?
Neighbors we might be, but I liked my neighbors how I liked my sperm donor: absent.
I managed to turn Gran back towards the house, but she kept looking over her shoulder and shouting each time she thought of something else, as if she wasn't ready to let the guys off the hook just yet.
“You were rude,” she announced the second we stepped into our house. “That boy is a gift from above. And tall! Did you see the size of him? You could climb him like a tree.”
I stopped dead in my tracks, almost choking on my own spit. “Gran.”
“What?” She batted her eyelashes innocently. “I’m old, darling, not dead. If I had working knees, I’d be over there borrowing sugar every day.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “We’ve literally just bought a ten-pound bag at Costco.”
“Details.” She waved me off like it was beside the point.
Then she let out a wistful sigh, the kind of sigh usually preceding her announcement of impending doom.
“Anyway, I’ll be gone soon. Dust in the wind, child.
So someone in this family should make use of him before the Grim Reaper comes calling. ”
“Make use of him? Seriously, Gran, that just sounds wrong. Besides, you’re fine,” I grumbled. “Your doctor literally told you last week you’ll probably outlive me.”
Unsurprisingly, she ignored me. “Mark my words, Tori. The boy is special.”
“And don't even think about wandering back over there while I'm at work,” I called after her. “Seriously, Gran, I mean it. No bothering them, no ‘checking in,’ no … whatever it is you think you’re doing.”
I shook my head as I watched her disappear into the house. The last thing I needed was a man. Especially one wrapped in a tall, handsome package of sunshine and hunky muscles.
The Neon Possum hung like a multi-colored bruise across the corner of the college strip, its green-and-purple glow spilling onto the cracked sidewalk outside.
Inside, the air was thick with the smell of spilled beer, sticky cocktail syrup, and the faint tang of cleaning solution someone had sprayed earlier but that would never fully disappear.
The hum of the fridge mingled with the thump of bass from the jukebox, and every clink of glassware added another layer to the chaos.
I grabbed a rag and began carefully tracing the pattern of the wood grain as I wiped down the bar. I’d been working at the Neon Possum for just over a year, ever since I turned twenty-one, and by now I could move through the chaos almost as if it were choreographed.
A guy leaned on the bar, hair sticking up like he hadn’t met a brush in years — frankly, his head resembled a broccoli — and asked, “Hey gorgeous, you bartending tonight?”
I raised an eyebrow, the corner of my mouth curling up. “What gave me away?” I deadpanned.
He blinked at me and I suppressed a sigh.
“Umm … so, you here often?”
“I work here.” Pursing my lips, I shot him a pointed look. “Yes, I’m here often. What can I get you?”
Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t say it.
“Any of the European beers you got on tap.”
Can’t believe he actually didn’t say it.
“…and your number.”
God fucking damnit.
My eyelid started twitching as I took in his smug smirk, but nevertheless, I pasted on my tried and true customer service smile.
“Sorry, not allowed to fraternize with customers. And we only have domestic beer.”
“Aw man, that’s bullshit.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Did I actually agree with his sentiment? Not in the slightest. But I’d learned it was easier to make them think some kind of higher instance set the rules.
Once I placed his beer on the counter, he muttered something under his breath, threw a handful of cash down on the bar and shuffled off to a booth.
The bar filled fast as the night wore on. Patrons stumbled in, some testing boundaries, others oblivious. I managed them all with the same mix of subtle humor and precision — a raised eyebrow, a dry quip, a firm hand on a wayward glass.
The regulars never caused any trouble; they had learned long ago what I would and wouldn't tolerate. The college kids who rotated through each year, though? They liked to test the waters, just to see how deep they ran.
Men who tried to charm me learned quickly that flattery didn’t replace cash, and cash didn’t replace boundaries.
One guy leaned across the counter, his voice too smooth. “Hey, you ever let a guy buy you a drink?”
I gave him a small smile, just enough to be polite, and set a shaker down. “Sure. Buy the drink, not my attention. It’s one of my better deals tonight.”
He laughed nervously, tilted his head and moved on without leaning again. Stacked up over time, small victories kept the bar in order, the tips coming in, and my savings account growing. At this glacial pace, however, I might just about be able to afford another semester by the time I turn thirty.
Hours passed in a blur of clinking glassware, shouted orders, and the occasional spill I swooped in to contain.
I corrected the bar back stacking glasses, redirected the couple arguing quietly in the corner, and reminded the group of frat boys at the back to keep it friendly without scaring them off. I didn’t need to be cruel to assert myself; sharp timing and a confident stance were enough.
Most of the patrons didn’t want to risk getting kicked out of one of the only bars in town.
By the last hour my apron was smeared, my hands sticky, my hair damp, and my muscles tight.
When I’d checked my phone, there was one missed call from Mom sitting on the screen. We kept missing each other because her schedule as a nurse in Atlanta was even crazier than mine.
When the last of the drunkards stumbled out and the neon flickered across empty chairs, I leaned against the counter and let myself breathe, water bottle in hand.
I’d started doing the odd shift every weekend when I turned twenty-one. It was just supposed to provide some extra income while I was studying at Blue Ridge University, then my funding from the Pell Grant ran out. I simply took too long to decide on a major.
After changing my mind twice, I lost track of how much remaining funding I had and, before I knew it, it was all gone. Poof. No matter how hard I tried to catch up, I couldn’t make up for lost time.
This happened around the same time Gran’s beloved Mercury Grand Marquis which had literally survived three decades with her behind the wheel — and mowed down more than one trash can — gave its last dying breath.
When it rains, it fucking pours, and naturally, the cost of the spare parts needed to get it running again was astronomical.
Gran wasn’t allowed to drive anymore, so I considered it my responsibility to get it fixed. Which meant I rode the bus for the time being and caught rides with coworkers.
I was working almost every other night now, trying to save as much money as possible in order to eventually foot the bill for my classes again.
Gran offered to cover the costs, of course.
But while she wasn’t exactly struggling financially, I didn’t want to rely on her or take advantage of her generosity.
She deserved to be able to spend her hard-earned money however she wanted. I hadn’t even had the courage to tell my mother about my failure.
She would have offered to pay for my classes too, but raising me on her own had already taken its toll. I could never ask more of her, especially not because all of this was my fault.
There was no one to blame for this situation but myself. All I needed to do was persevere and work hard. I’d get there eventually. I’d successfully survived another night.
Mostly.
Mostly was enough for now.