Make it a Double (Pinecrest Ridge #2)

1. Sawyer

SAWYER

“You’re a pretty little thing, aren’t you?”

I glanced up at the man leaning over the bar.

He was probably in his mid-to-late forties with a sparse goatee and a faded button-down that looked like it’d seen better days.

It was only four in the afternoon, yet his breath reeked of cigarettes and beer.

The way he licked his cracked lips and stared down at my tits—which were covered up by an old Frank’s Bar T-shirt—rather than my eyes made me sick.

Some days, I hated my job.

“Sure am,” I said, pouring two shots of vodka for another customer.

Getting hit on wasn’t anything new here.

Mostly it was harmless. Our regulars called me some variation of pretty every single day, and it never bothered me.

But the comment felt icky coming from Mr. Mid-Life Crisis, whom I vaguely remembered had introduced himself as Earl.

It wasn’t just what he’d said, but how he said it.

The way he eyed me like I was a perfectly marbled ribeye steak ready to be thrown on the grill.

What was it about a woman in a bar that made every single man a little stupid? It’s like they walked inside this building and lost all sense of reason. To be fair, I wasn’t sure how much sense men had in the first place, but that was an entirely different conversation.

“Me and my buddy over there,” he pointed to another man whose shiny head looked like it was coated in baby oil, “are getting mighty thirsty.”

His exaggerated southern drawl was as fake as the smile I gave him. Sometimes I hated being polite. I had to if I wanted to keep my job, but some customers had me wondering if it was worth the headache.

“Well, I’ll be right with you after I drop these drinks off.” My eyes slid to the tray holding two shots and two beers, hoping he’d get the hint. Unfortunately for me, he did not.

Earl leaned closer and smirked. “How about you reach down and grab a fresh glass and pour me a new beer before you go? It’ll only take a second.”

The way he was smiling made me want to toss one of the drinks in his face and run. It was the least he deserved. I knew his type—clearly from out of town, likely staying at one of the new luxury cabins that’d just been built just beyond city limits.

Property developers had been grabbing up land left and right lately.

Preying on people going through hard times, who had no choice but to sell their homes and businesses just to keep themselves afloat.

There had been three notices from the landlord on my grandma’s front door in the past month.

Each of them a warning about the incoming rent increase.

We were barely making ends meet as it was.

My job paid well. Much better than most places in town, especially considering I never went to college and had no formal training in, well, anything.

Duke Bennett, my boss and the owner of Frank’s, hired me shortly after he took over the bar.

I was barely twenty-one, and I’d never so much as held a tray in my life, but I think he recognized something in me that he’d felt himself.

Desperation.

I didn’t have the best childhood. My mom was a teenager when she had me. We lived in a trailer park on the outskirts of town until she turned nineteen. Then she was gone, leaving me alone with her mother, with a goodbye note taped to my crib.

My grandma made sure I never went without, though.

Despite threadbare clothing and secondhand shoes, she took care of me the best she could.

We relied on the charity of strangers sometimes to get by.

I did odd jobs around town until I turned sixteen, when I was able to work a part-time job after school.

I’ve been working my ass off ever since, determined to pay her back for all the years she cared for me in return.

The rent increase sounded like a problem for future Sawyer. I’d have to think about taking a second job, which wouldn’t be easy, seeing as I worked at the bar almost every day.

I could probably ask Duke for a raise. We’d been talking about a promotion over the past couple of months since he was able to hire more help.

Something more managerial. But I never pushed the matter.

It felt weird to walk up to someone and tell them to pay me more, especially after all he did for my grandmother and me.

Someone snapped in my face, bringing me back to reality. “Come on, sweetheart. I don’t have all day. My buzz is nearly gone.”

I blinked, focusing on the man in front of me. “Sir, it will be just a moment—”

Earl’s hand came down on the bar, startling me. His smile had turned pointed. Cruel, almost. “You may be just a pretty face—”

“I believe the woman asked you to give her a minute.”

I turned my head to the man who’d slid up to the bar at some point during my minor internal panic attack.

Soft brown curls, perfectly tanned skin, and a smile that nearly took my breath away greeted me.

He wasn’t from around here. That much was obvious.

With his crisp slacks and pale blue button-down, he looked like he was headed to a boardroom rather than walking into a hole-in-the-wall bar in Tennessee.

And his voice? Deep and smooth like velvet. He had an air of confidence that most people only dreamed of. The kind that usually came with daddy’s money and never hearing the word no.

Earl’s friend rolled his eyes. “Wait your turn, asshole. This is between her and us.”

“And now me,” Rich Boy said. “She asked you to give her a minute. If you’d just let her do her job, she’d likely be back, and you’d have your drink by now.”

“Or the bitch could’ve just filled my drink like I asked and then we’d be fine.”

Before I could blink, he gripped Earl by his collar, yanked him back from the bar, and slammed him against the wall.

Conversations fell, and someone’s stool clattered to the ground as people tried to get out of the way.

Altercations were nothing new for Frank’s, but normally, Duke was here to shut them down.

“That’s no way to speak to a lady,” Rich Boy hissed, putting pressure on the other man’s throat. I almost felt bad for Earl. His friend had scurried away like a little rat and didn’t seem the least bit interested in helping him out.

But my sympathy only went so far, and once you called me a bitch, I was done.

“I think you owe her an apology.”

“Get your hands off me,” Earl said, struggling against the man’s grip. The man only pressed further, cutting off Earl’s protests in a gurgled cry. The room was silent save for the slow song crooning from the jukebox.

Earl’s legs buckled as the man stepped back, releasing his hold only long enough for him to suck in a lungful of air. He gripped the back of Earl’s neck and pushed him toward me at the bar. “Go on, then.”

The man in question turned to me with nothing short of hatred in his eyes.

He grabbed his coat and slammed down a twenty before spitting a half-assed, “Sorry,” and scampering from the room.

The bill wouldn’t cover his or his friends’ drinks, but I didn’t care.

Duke would understand when I explained the situation.

He probably would’ve kicked him out long ago.

I should have, but it was surprisingly busy for a Friday afternoon.

It was the last weekend of summer, and the county fair was in full swing, which meant we had our fair share of tourists getting in one final vacation before returning to their lives in the city.

I’d foolishly hoped that if I ignored the man, he’d lose interest and go away.

Sometimes it worked, other times it didn’t.

Unfortunately for everyone here, today it was the latter.

The ecstatic applause from our regulars told me all I needed to know.

Everyone else had found Earl just as insufferable as I did.

Rich Boy bent forward and helped right the stools that’d fallen, joking with one of the old men who’d just walked in.

I took the opportunity to quickly deliver the drinks I’d been holding with my sincerest apologies for the delay.

They gave me a twenty for my trouble.

When I returned, Rich Boy was perched at the bar with a smile on his face, staring directly at me. His deep brown eyes were soft. I would’ve even found them beautiful if they weren’t filled with pity.

“You didn’t need to do that, you know,” I said, grabbing the empty glasses and wiping away any trace of the assholes from before. “I had it handled.”

He tipped his head to the side, casually studying me. “I know you did, but you shouldn’t have had to. I may not have grown up in the south, but I was raised better than that. My mom would’ve kicked my ass if I stood by and let a woman be talked to like that.”

For some reason, it wasn’t the answer I was expecting. I thought he’d talk a big game about women not being able to stand up for themselves or whatever overly macho bullshit men like him believed in these days.

“Well, that was kind of you,” I said with a dip of my chin. “Thank you.”

He gave me a hint of a smirk. “That killed you, didn’t it?”

My chuckle ended with a groan. “And there you had to go and kill the nice moment. Way to be cliché.”

“It made you laugh, though. That was my real plan after all.”

“You think you’re being so smooth right now. Ticking off all the boxes on some stereotypical meet-cute.”

He leaned forward, smiling coyly. “How am I doing on that, by the way? I mean, we’re in a small town bar.

I’m the handsome out-of-towner who just waltzed in and defended your honor—even though you totally had the situation handled on your own.

You’re the cute girl-next-door who’s working at her dad’s bar to make a little extra money for college.

” His smile was damn near infectious. “And now we’re making small talk across the bar about how vastly different our lives are from one another. ”

“Not my dad’s bar.” My lips twitched. “And we haven’t done the last one yet.”

“Dammit. We were so close,” he laughed. “Do you think I’ve still got a chance?”