“This was your mother,” I said, watching the understanding leave his eyes. “And almost your brother-in-law,” I said.
Thatcher let go of me, plucked Jeremy’s keys from my hand, and pocketed them.
Because little sister might look calmed down, but pissed-off female can skip the tracks at any time.
“Yeah, well, almost-brother-in-law can sleep this shit off here and I’ll deal with him in the morning,” he said. “Go—wherever it is you’re going.”
I nodded.
“When are you coming back to work, by the way?” he asked. “Regardless of where you lay your head, you have a job. Or is that too comfortable, too?”
I punched him in the arm. “Ha-ha. Yes, I’m coming back. Just—give me a few days. Hell, I was supposed to be on my honeymoon for two weeks anyway, so I’ll be back in two weeks. Roarke can more than make up for me.”
Roarke came to us four years ago to help me out in the houses with the physical labor. He was something of a side of beef mixed with a mountain, and he was a workhorse wonder who went about every single day moving, hauling, tilling, and harvesting with his earbuds in and his two turkey sandwiches on wheat bread for lunch. I think he once told me he was pushing sixty, but his body didn’t know that.
“Of course he can, but he’s mad at you right now,” Thatcher said.
“Oh, no,” I whispered. “Did he actually come?”
“In a suit, even.”
I shut my eyes. How many people could I disappoint today?
“Shit.”
“Just no going to that house alone in the meantime. Witnesses, Micah,” he said, bringing us back on track. “More than me. Someone who isn’t family.”
Well, since my friends were long gone, that currently left about four people who even knew my name, much less could be called friend enough to step up for me. One was the best friend of Jeremy’s dad’s lawyer—probably not. One was Leo—definitely not. And one kept stepping up for me minute after minute.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“First round’s on me,” I said to Gabi as we walked into Rojo’s and asked to sit in the bar area. I held up my strappy little travel purse that held $900 in cash in a secret pocket. The cash I’d taken out for our honeymoon trip to Turks and Caicos. That Jeremy had prepaid for. Karma’s a bitch. “I have some pissed-off brain cells to kill.”
I’d stopped by my room to update my ponytail from perky to side-shoulder sexy, put on a new black sleeveless minidress to go with my sassy new black strappy wedges, slapped on some face with my new makeup so I could feel like a woman again, plopped the hat back on top, and left to pick up Gabi. It almost felt normal. Like a person with a life. If having a life meant starting over with everything new and driving your friend’s car because your ex-fiancé was holding yours hostage.
Katrina Bowman, the big-boobed redhead from the diner bathroom, was bent over a karaoke machine on a tiny stage in the back, in a low-cut tank top and shorts that didn’t have much purpose. I could almost see her nipples. There was a nerdy little tech guy standing behind her who had probably been up there to wire it up but was now short-circuited by a giant boner straining against his zipper.
“Got it done, Gary?” said another guy off to the right, snapping him out of his porn fantasy.
“Huh? Yeah!” he mumbled, turning in a circle and adjusting himself. “Um, yeah. It’s all hooked up.”
“Thanks, you’re a doll,” Katrina said, standing upright and winking at him.
Poor Gary went red, then disappeared through a door to do things I didn’t want to think about.
Sully Hart and Carmen-the-lawyer were at a big table with Lanie, Nick, and another couple, the guy I recognized from a poster.
“Shit,” I said, slowing my roll.
“What?”
“It’s Bash Anderson,” I said, gesturing with my chin.
Gabi followed my gaze. “Yeah. So?”
“So, he’s a customer,” I said. “And he came to my wedding. The one I wasn’t at.”
Gabi flipped a hand casually. “Details. Come on. If I can do this, so can you.”
“Really?” I said, looking around at faces. “Show up yesterday looking like a cake topper, did you?”
“Oh, my God,” Carmen said as we wove our way to their table. “You actually came.”
“Micah kind of needed to,” Gabi said. “She’s had a night.” She winked at me as if to say, Play along, let’s make it about you.
Why not? Everything was already about me, so ya know.
“Micah?” Bash said. “As in—”
Boom.
“As in I am so sorry you had to experience that drama yesterday, Mr. Almost-Mayor,” I said, holding out a hand. “Please don’t let that affect your opinion of Cherrydale Flower Farm or my brother will twist my head until it pops off.”
Bash chuckled and took my hand. “It’s all good. And I kept my gift, so I won’t hold it against you.”
I felt my face fall and my free hand went over my eyes. “Gifts. Oh, my God. I didn’t even think about—”
“And we won’t tonight, either,” Gabi said, a hand on my arm.
I felt nauseous. “But people brought—”
“The gifts will go back, my friend,” Lanie said, reaching across the table. “Or they won’t. Don’t stress about it. It’s okay. Sit down. You look fabulous.”
I could hear Deidre Blankenship waxing on in her uppity shrill way about that classless Roman whore who destroyed her baby and Can you believe she didn’t give a rat’s ass about the gifts people gave her?
Dee Dee Blankenship wouldn’t say “ass,” and probably wouldn’t say “rat” either, but all the rest was pretty close to spot-on.
“Y’all missed Bash and Allie up there blessing the kickoff like a real king and queen,” Carmen said with a grin.
“Oh, God,” the woman next to Bash said.
“You just needed scepters and you’d be set,” Lanie said.
“So that’s what all the people outside giving away stuff was about?” I asked, thumbing over my shoulder.
“The endless honey prostitution?” Carmen asked. “Yeah, everyone thinks they have a new take on honey products around here,” she said. “They can’t hawk them inside the businesses, but the sidewalks get pretty full this week.”
“I’m Allie,” the woman with Bash said, grinning. “It’s kind of dumb, but the town gets off to this stuff. I like your hat, by the way.”
I reached for it automatically, the self-doubt waving its ugly head before I forced my hand back down. No. That wasn’t self-doubt. That was Jeremy doubt. My skin flushed with anger at the thought of his name.
“Thanks,” I said, clearing my throat, attempting to clear the toxicity from my head. “I used to have a thing for hats. I’m trying to remember that girl.” I laughed. “Says the lunatic.”
“Micah,” Carmen said. “We’ve all had to find out who we were-slash-reinvent-ourselves at some point.”
“I’m just sorry I missed the grand entrance,” Allie said, kicking back in her chair with one hand lazily caressing Bash’s.
Lanie started to laugh and I smiled distractedly as she and Gabi collectively told the story much funnier than I remembered it. Hell, it could have been made into a romantic comedy film the way they told it, but I didn’t care. It was nice to be among people, laughing, not worrying about how I was dressed or if what I said was appropriate for the company, not having to put on a dog-and-pony show. Just me. Hanging out with some funny women and easily three of the hottest men I’d ever seen in one place. My God, these ladies had cornered the lottery. Even broody Nick was lighter and happier than I’d seen him the day before, but then his long-lost deserting brother wasn’t standing in front of him.
A guy was mutilating “Wanted Dead or Alive” up there, but had a cheering section in the back nonetheless.
Carmen was right. “Feelings” had to make an appearance at some point.
“So, who needs a drink?” I said, sliding my chair back. “I haven’t seen a waitress.”
“They’re definitely short some help tonight,” Gabi said, looking around. “Bad night for it.”
“I’ll go get,” I said, mentally tallying the beer bottles on the table. Lanie had a glass in front of her with a lime in it. “Vodka seven?”
“Sprite,” she said. “Just Sprite.”
The designated driver, I got it. “Be right back.” I glanced at Gabi. “What do you want?”
Katrina sashayed by, squeezing Gabi’s arm in passing. “It’s so good to see you out again with people!” she whispered loudly, a dramatic expression emphasizing the words.
Gabi cut her eyes toward me. “Something potent.”
I made it five steps when the sight of the fourth hottest guy I’d ever seen in one place, standing behind the bar shaking a drink, stopped me silly. Leo was bartending. Leo was bartending here. Of course he was.
I glanced over my shoulder at the table where Nick sat, his back to the bar.
Crap.
There I’d been thinking it was going to be a noneventful, nice evening to soothe my wounds.
I strolled up slowly, waiting my turn, as he and another girl cranked out orders. I noticed that Leo’s crowd was mostly women, and I didn’t blame them. Just watching him mix was like watching art in motion. He may be new to this bar, but he definitely wasn’t new. He knew what he was doing, and how to work his assets. Eye contact with every patron, a panty-melting sizzling smile with every drink he handed over, and I would swear he could tell you the headcount of the room. He was a whole different Leo up there. In his element, alert, aware, those dark eyes missing nothing. Including me, just one head in a million. Goose bumps went down my spine when his five-thousand-degree gaze burned into me, while lighting some drink on fire.
I blinked away, pretending I didn’t notice, but in truth, I’d have given anything for a freezer to stick my head in.
The girl kept eyeing him sideways like either she wanted to learn from him or she wanted to learn from him. The muscles in his arms rippled every time he shook a drink, did a high pour, or tossed a bottle from hand to hand, and I was pretty sure every other woman there held their breath through every one. Them. Not me. I was good. I was breathing. I wasn’t light-headed at all by the time I reached the counter.
Nope.
Leo leaned his head back a little when I bellied up to the bar, regarding me with either wariness or weariness. I couldn’t tell. Maybe I was cramping his style, spoiling his fun, reminding him of his not so exciting real life living above a florist shop, having to share a bathroom with his flighty neighbor.
“Roman-off,” he said slowly, dragging out the word as he flipped a coin over his knuckles like he’d done with the pen earlier.
I raised an eyebrow. “McKane.”
“You look nice. I like the hat.” I smirked. That was a point in his favor. Not that there were points to be had. “What can I get you?”
“Um, I have a whole table, actually,” I said, looking back to the left so he’d follow. “Including your brother.”
Some of the cockiness drained from his expression, and I was struck with how sad that was. I wanted to take it back. Watch him light up again.
“Okay,” he said, blinking quickly as if to regain his mojo. “Thanks for the heads up,” he said more matter-of-factly. “What do you need?”
“Three Bud Lite Limes, one Dos Equis, one Corona Lite with a glass, a Heineken Dark, a Corpse Reviver Number Two, a whiskey sour, and a Sprite with a lime.”
Let’s see how good he really is.
The look of surprise on his face said the same.
“You’ve done that before,” he said.
“In college,” I said, wincing. “Instead of college, actually, most of the time.” I looked around me. “Hopefully I won’t have to do it again.”
“Good to have a skill,” he said, setting up the glasses, amusement playing at his lips. “You never know when you’ll need a backup plan.”
I rested my elbows on the bar, not caring about the hoard of women behind me waiting their turn.
“Like bartending when you just happen to land in the same town your little brother lives in?” I asked, adding a head tilt. I wasn’t flirting. I was just soaking in some of his cockiness.
He gave me an almost-smile that nearly buckled my knees.
“No idea what you’re talking about,” he said, finishing off the drinks with a flourish, cutting me a knowing look before turning around to pull the beers from ice. “I’m also set to do some land clearing across the pond and some deliveries in Denning if you’re nosy enough to need that information.”
“Hmm.”
“And you, Roman-off?” he asked as he returned, icy bottles between his fingers. “What’s your story?”
I laughed. “I think you’ve seen my story pretty up close and personal.”
He was already shaking his head as he opened the bottles deftly, grabbing a tray.
“I saw the end result,” he said. “A desperate decision of a woman who felt like she had no other choice.”
My eyes widened, my mouth opened, but the in-your-face shock sucked the words right out of my head.
“Desperate,” I echoed.
“You don’t think so?”
I looked away, my cockiness draining away. You can take the girl out from under the thumb, but you can’t take—Or something to that effect. Leo saw me as desperate? Doesn’t get sexier than that. Hat or no hat.
“Just give me the damn tray,” I said, frowning down at it.
“Hey,” he said. “Don’t take it like that.”
I barked a laugh. “Is there another way?”
I grabbed the tray but he held on, his eyes narrowed like he was studying a difficult problem.
“That guy must have really done a number on you,” he said finally.
I felt the jolt in my gut as my whole body twitched.
“What?”
“To go to this much trouble to get away, to not even talk to him the next day,” Leo said, his voice low. “Or have you now?”
His words hit every guilt trigger, bouncing off all the self-doubt and renewed anger on their way down. Especially on the heels of Thatcher asking me the same thing. Fight or flight hit me again, and I had to simmer it down. There was nothing to run away from now.
“You—it’s not—” I let the indignation pull me together. “Thank you for being there for me, for giving me a ride out of my desperation. For giving me shampoo this morning.” I shook my head. “You keep coming to my rescue, but my story isn’t your business.”
A spark of amusement flashed across his face, as he managed to scan the room again while never really leaving me.
“No, it’s not,” he said. “You’re right. Just my curiosity taking over. People usually run for two reasons. Toward something or away from something.”
“Yeah?” I snapped. “What was yours?”
The quickest of shadows passed over his face before he shut it down with a mini shrug of concession.
“Touché.”
“Whatever,” I said under my breath, pulling the tray from him, turning back to the table. “Move, people!” I yelled over the noise, making several girls jump away like the parting of the Red Sea.
Laughter was enveloping the table as I returned and passed out the drinks, and it was all I could do not to say my good-byes and leave. I wasn’t feeling this anymore. All I wanted to do was go back to my sad, pathetic, desperate little room and figure out what to do with my life. Gabi was having a good time, though, so I bit my lip and took a healthy gulp of my whiskey sour, closing my eyes as it went down. Sully slapped Nick on the back, capturing my attention enough to open them again.
“Congratulations, man,” he said. “No one deserves it more.”
“Oh, what did I miss?” I asked, suddenly feeling very odd-man-out as they all looked my way. “Or—never mind. Maybe it’s—”
“No, sorry,” Allie said, laughing. “I just spilled the news that Nick will sort of inherit my greatest love and my biggest headache.”
“That could also describe me,” Bash said, giving her a side-eyed grin.
“I don’t think Nick wants you,” Allie said.
“You notice she didn’t deny the headache part,” he said to the table.
“Allie has invited me to be an equal partner in the Blue Banana,” Nick said.
“Oh, wow,” I said, taking another sip.
“For now,” Allie said, smiling softly. “I feel other things coming on. My dad has dementia and will need full-time care soon. My daughter will be going off to college and while Angel loves the diner, she has zero interest in running it. So I need to start planning ahead. I learned not too long ago that I need to balance things and have more freedom.” She smiled affectionately at Nick. “I need to know that one day maybe I can hand this off completely to someone who loves it like I do.”
He lifted his glass to hers, emotion clear in his expression. Lanie dabbed at her eyes.
“I’ve never had anyone trust my work like you do, Allie,” he said, clearing his throat. “You—” He shook his head and everyone chuckled. “You’re the damn bomb, lady. Thank you.”
Holy shit. Nick was having a monumental moment. Not the time to tell him that his very unwanted brother was back there tending bar.
“What is this you got me?” Gabi asked, sniffing it.
“It’s called a Corpse Reviver Number Two,” I said. “Taste it.”
She took a tiny sip, her eyes lighting up. “Oh, my God, lemon!”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“It’s delicious,” she said, sucking down some more.
“And ass-kicking,” I said. “So be warned.” I held up a finger to get Lanie’s attention, thinking maybe that was the better course of action. “Um—”
Charmed at First Sight Page 9
