Chapter 3
Chapter Three
EMILY
The bartender turns to me, a smile curving up on his face. He gives me a wink and then jerks his chin. He’s asking me if I’m okay. I’m not, but it doesn’t matter. I’m a little lost inside my own head, or rather, lost in thoughts about myself and who I am.
I think about my job as a waitress at a bar.
It adds to my reputation.
The cultivated one.
I don’t like it, and I want something different, but now that I’m almost thirty-five, I have no idea what else I would even do.
It’s all I know, and it’s just who I am at this point.
I don’t have the money to enroll in any kind of college courses, so I should just accept this as my life and try to make the best of it.
Tugging down my tight tank top, I show a little more cleavage, shaking my head once to push all the negative thoughts out of my brain. I need to focus on what I can change and what I can control, which is the promise of tips by showing cleavage.
What I certainly cannot control is how Baylor Cooper sees me, or rather, sees right through me. I haven’t existed since our night together. He doesn’t want anything to do with me, and since he hasn’t promised me anything, I should just accept it and move on.
But I can’t.
Or my heart can’t… maybe won’t. I’m not sure.
Returning the bartender’s wink, I plaster on my fakest, flirtiest smile and head toward my first table of the night. I’ve got to get out of my head and back to work. I’m not going to be able to keep my lights on if I mess around too much, lost in thought.
I only stumble slightly when I see who is sitting at my table. It’s Lola-Mae, Shandy, and Maisie. They’re all smiling and chatting among themselves. I don’t want to walk up to them.
Everyone in town thinks they are all perfect, including me. Not only are Lola-Mae and Maisie with the men in town to be with, ones who used to be the most eligible bachelors in the area.
But beyond all of that, I know how they see me.
I also know I don’t have a choice but to walk up to them and take their order. The bartender sure as shit is not going to walk around his bar and come out here, and it’s still too early for the other waitress to clock in.
It’s just me.
“Hey, girls,” I call out as I approach, giving them enough time to stop talking shit about me, just in case, and being overly friendly, because if I don’t, I know I’m going to come off as a bitch because I’m nervous, and I don’t want to.
They all stop talking instantly, which tells me all I need to know. They were talking shit about me. They swing their gazes over to meet mine, and as much as I want to nervously laugh, chew the inside of my cheek, or just walk away, I don’t do any of those things.
I stay where I am, continuing to stand in front of them, my smile unwavering and my feet planted on the concrete floor. I feel like I might just fall over, but thankfully, the cement that seems to be glued to the bottom of my shoes keeps me in place.
They don’t take too long to order, which I’m grateful for because my face is starting to hurt from smiling. Maisie orders a sparkling water. Lola-Mae and Shandy both order a hard cider. I know why Maisie is ordering sparkling water. I don’t say anything, though.
It’s not my business.
It’s just something I heard floating around town. You can’t do anything in this town without someone spilling the beans to someone else about it. You could start a rumor on one side of town, and it would be on the other side before you could even jump in your car and drive there.
I know, because I’ve started rumors about myself in hopes of getting Beckett’s attention, then Baylor’s. It never worked for me, and honestly, both times, it just made me look worse than I was.
I walk back to the bar, gather their drinks, which takes me about five seconds, then I head back to their table to deliver them all. They don’t say anything, giving me chin dips and smiles instead of words. I’m okay with that. I’ll never be their best friend; that much is clear.
After I get their order delivered, the bar begins to fill up with regulars, which always keeps me busy, and it helps me to keep my mind off the three women sitting in the middle of my area. I check on them a few times, trying to keep everything easy breezy.
I’m not sure it works.
And I’m not sure it works because Maisie approaches me about two hours into their evening. She stands directly in front of me as I wait for the bartender to fill a mixed drink order.
I’m okay with her interrupting me because I’m going to have to head over to a table of rowdy cowboys whom I’m actually dreading going back to. One of them already grabbed my ass tonight. And I’m over it completely.
“I just… I wanted to say, I don’t dislike you. I hope you don’t think I do.”
Her words take me aback a bit. I assumed she hated me.
Out of all of them, she would be the one with the most right to.
I open my mouth, then snap my lips shut, and unfortunately for me, I take the bitchy road instead of the way I truly feel on the inside when I respond to her, and I hate myself for it.
“I wouldn’t care if you did.”