by Kennedy Fox
Although it’s Friday and Ethan doesn’t normally work, he’ll be here tonight for a few hours. Kenzie is coming in soon to help with the late rush. Once the ranchers finish their shifts and have dinner with their families, they’ll come down and drink for a few hours. The weekends are definitely busier, and having an extra set of hands is always nice so I can focus on manager duties too.
“Another cold one…” George holds up and waves his empty beer bottle at me. In his mid-fifties, he’s one of our regular customers and drinks like his stomach is never-ending. At least he’s a decent tipper, though.
“Coming right up,” I tell him, walking toward the cooler to grab him a new one. His wife, Mary, comes in with him sometimes, but he’s riding solo tonight. “Where’s the missus?” I ask when I swap out the bottles.
“Her sister is visiting this weekend. Hence why I’m here and not at home.” He tilts the corner of his lips before taking a sip.
“Ah…” I say with a smirk. “Not a fan, huh?”
“Oh, they cluck like hens all night long. It gives me a headache, so I come here to look at your pretty face instead.”
“Be careful now, George. Your compliments might go straight to my head.”
“And trust me, she doesn’t need a confidence boost,” Ethan adds, coming up to my side. “She’s already full of herself.”
I jab my elbow into his ribs, causing him to let out a harsh breath. “Look who’s talking, Mr. Suave. I could smell your cologne the second you walked in. Who’re you tryin’ to impress?”
“The ladies, duh.” He chuckles, moving around me.
“You mean Harper.” I cackle, and he gives me a dirty look. They’ve been best friends since they were in diapers, but he’ll never make a move. She’s the daughter of my dad’s best friend, Dylan. We’re all friends and grew up together, but she’s currently dating some asshole they went to high school with. “Stop being a chickenshit,” I tease.
“Look who’s talkin’.” He gives me a pointed look, then flashes a cocky smile. “Plus, I’m too young to settle down. Gotta play the field a bit.”
Shaking my head, I hold up my palm toward Ethan and look at George. “See? This is why I’m single. Men are just too annoying and full of themselves.”
Speaking of which…
The door opens, catching my attention, and Diesel walks in with Grayson and Wyatt, one of his townie friends. He laughs and playfully pushes Wyatt before our eyes lock, and his smile deepens.
“You were sayin’?” George taunts, chuckling around the neck of his beer before he takes a long sip.
Blinking, I clear my throat and grab a rag, needing to stay busy. It’s not uncommon for Diesel to hang out and drink after work, but ever since he put Nick in his place, I can’t stop thinking about him.
“Hey, Row,” he says, taking a seat next to George, and the other two follow suit, sitting down on the other side of Diesel. He knows I hate that nickname, yet he says it to annoy me anyway.
“Hey, Adam.” I flash a smug grin, knowing he hates it when people use his real name especially in public settings.
The corner of his lips tilts up into a shit-eating smirk. “You know, it only makes my dick harder when you call me that.”
I gulp, then glare at him as I shake my head. “Pretty big talker there.”
He winks, then continues, “Didn’t know you’d be workin’ tonight.”
Liar. Yes, he did. With the exception of my birthday weekend, I’ve worked every Friday night since I moved back a month ago.
“Yep, I’m closing. Putting my big fancy finance degree to work.” I chuckle because this was the plan after graduation. Maybe not bartending per se but being involved in the family’s businesses and training to handle all the financial accounts. It’ll be a while before I completely take over, so I’m managing the bar for now. “What can I get y’all?”
Diesel looks at them before glancing back at me. “Three beers to start. We’ll save the shots for right before I kick their asses in pool.”
“Pretty cocky for someone who almost broke their neck earlier,” Grayson teases.
“Cocky is his middle name,” I interject before I grab their drinks and set them down in front of them.
“Got that right,” Wyatt adds.
“So how were you a dumbass today?” I ask, holding back my worries.
“They’re being dramatic,” he states calmly before bringing the beer to his mouth. The mouth I shouldn’t be fantasizing about.
“This motherfucker…” Grayson starts, shaking his head. “He’s on a tractor, and instead of parking it where it belongs, he wedges the damn thing between two others with no space to actually get down. So he decides to jump to the one next to him and nearly misses. Then he does it again and falls on his damn head.”
“It was my shoulder,” Diesel corrects. “And I’m fine, by the way. Thanks for your concern.” He narrows his eyes at them, and I snort at their interactions, shaking my head at the way they give him shit. It’s too easy, though. Diesel’s a big kid in a grown man’s body.
A really sexy body.
“You poor thing,” I sing-song, resting a hand on my chest. “I’ll keep you in my thoughts and prayers.”
He cocks a brow. “I like you thinkin’ about me.”
My eyes slide to George, who’s shooting a half grin. “Told you,” I tell him.
George laughs, and Diesel furrows his brow, clearly not amused he’s not in on the inside joke.
“Told him what?” he asks. “That I’m charming? Good-looking? Your future baby daddy?”
I nearly choke as a blush creeps up my neck and cheeks.
“That men are annoying. You just proved my point.”
“You wound me, Row.” Diesel sticks out his lower lip, pouting.
“Sorry to burst your enormous ego, but men like you are the worst ones out there,” I say matter-of-factly.
“Gentlemanly? Kind? Willing to punch an ex-boyfriend for their best friend’s little sister?” he challenges, raising his eyebrows and clenching his jaw. The scruff on his face is a little thicker than usual, and a fantasy of his facial hair brushing against my inner thighs emerges into my head. I immediately blink the vision away.
“He’s gotcha there,” Grayson chimes in.
I roll my eyes, no longer wanting to give this conversation any more attention. Luckily, more customers enter and order drinks.
Ethan and I take turns with the customers, mixing cocktails while making sure the place stays clean. Kenzie shows up for her shift and replaces Ethan, and before long, it’s nearly closing time. Diesel, Grayson, and Wyatt played pool and darts, taking shots after each game. I watched them silently, forcing my eyes away before Diesel could catch me staring, and have started wondering what the hell’s wrong with me. Diesel’s been like an annoying brother to me most of my life, and now whatever is sparking between us is freaking me the fuck out. I know I’m not imagining it.
“Diesel, we’re heading out,” Grayson says.
“You better not be driving,” I tell him sternly.
“They’re not,” Diesel reassures me. “We’re staying at Wyatt’s apartment tonight. It’s just down the block. We walked.”
“Ah, okay. Good,” I say as I turn toward the register to grab their tab so they can cash out.
“I’ll meet you guys there in a bit,” Diesel tells them after they pay.
Grayson and Wyatt stumble out, leaving Diesel and me alone with a couple of regulars on the opposite end of the bar. Kenzie is busy wiping down tables and sweeping, not paying any attention to anything else.
“Here,” he says, grabbing my attention with his signed receipt.
I grab it from him and go to input it into the system when I read the tip amount he wrote.
“Diesel, I think you made a mistake and added too many zeros,” I say, chuckling and glancing over my shoulder at him. He looks sober as hell, which is crazy, considering the amount he drank tonight. His lips are in a firm line, and his eyes
pierce through me.
“No, that’s right.”
My face falls, and I think I’m in shock. “You don’t have to tip me that much.”
“I know, but I wanted to, so let me.”
“No.”
“Yes. I’m the customer, and I’m always right,” he fires back.
I snort, shaking my head. “I can’t allow you to do that.”
“And why not?” he challenges.
I slump my shoulders in embarrassment. “Because I need to earn the money to pay Nick back without it being given to me. You did enough, and I already feel guilty you got involved.”
“It’s not a handout. That tip was hard-earned.”
“You’re full of shit, and you know it.”
“Just take it, Row. It’s not like I have a wife and six kids to support. I can afford it.”
“I wasn’t saying you couldn’t,” I quickly defend. “I just don’t want your pity.”
“I’d never pity you, Rowan,” he says sincerely.
“Fine,” I say in defeat, but quickly add, “Just this once. Don’t get used to me giving in so easily when you try to overtip again. Got it?”
He chuckles, enjoying this way too much. “Sure, whatever you say.”
I groan with a smile. He’s so damn stubborn sometimes.
“Do you remember the night of your eighth grade winter formal?” he asks after I input the tip amount and take out the cash, stuffing it into my apron.
“What?” I ask, scrunching my nose. “That was like…ten years ago. Why do you ask?”
“Because I remember it like it was yesterday and wondered if you did too.”
I swallow hard because I do remember and even found myself recalling it not too long ago. How could I forget my first kiss? Or that it was with Diesel.
“Um…yeah, kinda. I guess.” I blush, thinking about it.
Before he can continue, Kenzie comes up to me. “All done. Chairs are up, floors are swept, garnishes are stocked. Do you need me to do anything else?” she asks.
I think about the closing checklist, but I can’t really concentrate on anything other than the fact that Diesel has chosen tonight to bring up a memory that’s haunted me for years. “Nope, I think that’s all. Once I cash those guys out, I’ll just have receipts to go through, and then I’ll close up.”
“Do you mind if I go? I know I’m supposed to so you aren’t alone, but—”
“I’ll stay with her,” Diesel interjects. “That way you don’t have to wait, and Rowan doesn’t have to close alone.”
“Are you sure?” Kenzie asks eagerly. She must have plans, but it’s almost two a.m., so I can’t imagine she’d be doing anything this late. Then again, she is almost twenty-one and on her college summer break, so anything’s possible.
“I was gonna stay anyway, so go right ahead,” he tells her. The two of them don’t even ask what I think about it, but honestly, I’m glad they don’t because my throat has suddenly gone dry.
The final patrons pay their bill, and I follow them to the door so I can lock it and flip over the open sign. Nerves tickle my skin as I walk back around the bar and feel his eyes on me. We’ve been around each other for most of our lives but hardly ever alone. And never in this kind of situation.
Honestly, most of my memories with Diesel are of him aggravating the shit outta me. He finds ways to tease me, and I always ignore him the best I can. But ever since I’ve moved back and he threatened Nick, there’s been a shift between us.
An indescribable one.
“I remember the exact dress you wore that night,” he says, my back turned to him as I print out the end of day reports. “Probably makes me sound like a creep, but—”
“A little.” I chuckle. “But I remember the song we danced to, so it’s not any less creepy than that, I suppose.”
Turning around, I see his intense gaze on me. Butterflies swarm my stomach as I watch his expression.
“Why are you asking about that night?” My voice is soft.
Diesel shrugs. “I actually heard that song on the radio recently, and it reminded me of my first kiss.”
I blink hard and retreat a step. “Wait, what?” Tilting my head, I study his face and then my eyes lock on his. “That…that wasn’t your first kiss.”
The corner of his lips tilts, amusement written all over his face. “Actually, it was.” He furrows his brows. “Why’s that so surprising?”
“Well, considering your history…” I chuckle anxiously. “I just assumed you started kissing girls in kindergarten or something.”
He laughs, his shoulders relaxing. “I probably did, but those don’t count. Our kiss that night…”
“That counted?” I ask, my cheeks flush by the direction our conversation went. Diesel’s rarely serious, and things feel different with him tonight. That kiss affected me, more than I was willing to admit at the time, but nevertheless, it sparked numerous fantasies as I bloomed into a teenager.
“It did,” he states honestly. “But I thought maybe it didn’t mean as much to you since you seemed to hate me after that.”
“I didn’t hate you,” I blurt out. “I was thirteen and…awkward.”
“Then why’d you lash out at me after I took you home?”
“I don’t know.” I suck in my lower lip, shrugging. “After Riley suspected us, I guess I figured that if I pushed you away first, then you couldn’t reject me.” I shrug again, embarrassed. “Teenage girl insecurities.”
Narrowing his eyes, he rests his forearms on the bar. “You’re the one who called me gross,” he reminds me. “I denied it so Riley wouldn’t punch me in the face, and afterward, you avoided me like a bad haircut.”
“It was ten years ago, Diesel,” I emphasize. “We were kids.”
He leans back against the stool and stares at me before speaking. “I guess you’re right.”
Needing to end this unpleasant conversation, I grab my store keys from my pocket and shake them in my fingers. “I better close up.”
Diesel nods, staying silent as I walk to the office. My nerves are in overdrive, like I’m thirteen all over again, and it takes me three times to input the right safe code before it successfully opens. I grab the log notebook and sit at the desk, writing in the total amounts for the day. Once I’m done, I walk back to the register and take out the cash to put in the zipper pouch for a bank drop afterward.
One of the reports I printed calculates our inventory and how many cases I need to restock, so I do that next.
“Can I help with anything?” Diesel asks when I return in front of him.
“Sure.” I smile and hand him the list of what I need.
He follows me to the stock room, and we make trips back and forth until the beer fridges are stocked full. I look around a final time, double-checking Kenzie’s work and wiping down a few stools before I spot clean behind the bar. She took care of most of it, but missed some small things.
“Would you mind wiping down the liquor bottles while I finish up in the office? I have just a couple more things to do,” I say.
Diesel nods with a grin. “Can do.”
“Thanks.”
We’ve been working in silence, the tension between us thick and electric. I input some information into the computer, then sign off. I tidy up the desk and double-check the safe is locked. I’m stalling, too nervous to face Diesel, and I hope he doesn’t call me out for my weird behavior.
The sound of glass breaking draws my attention, and I shoot out of the chair, then rush to the bar. “Are you okay?” I ask when I see a shattered beer mug on the floor.
“Don’t come over. I’ll sweep it up.” He walks around the mess. “Where’s the broom?”
“It’s in the storage room. I’ll grab it.”
“No, let me. You finish what you’re doing.” He walks toward me, closing the gap between us. I swallow hard as my gaze lowers down his body, taking in how good he looks in his tight jeans and boots.
“If John asks, tell him Ken
zie did it,” he teases, and we both laugh, which eases the tension some.
“She dropped an entire bottle of tequila once, so trust me, one mug doesn’t even put a dent in the amount of shit workers have broken around here,” I reassure him.
Diesel walks around me to get to the cleaning supplies, and I head back into the office, needing the space to clear my head for a moment. I don’t know what’s happening right now, but I’ve never felt this nervous around him, and now suddenly, I’m worrying if I have food in my teeth and if I remembered to pluck my eyebrows this morning.
I leave myself a few Post-it reminders, then do one final glance around the bar. Closing never takes me this long, but Diesel has me completely distracted and on edge. But I need to face him, lock up, and get out of here. I square my shoulders and walk out to where he’s waiting.
“All good?” I ask casually.
“Yep, everything on my end anyway.”
I snort. “Thanks for your help,” I tell him, swallowing down the large knot in my throat. “Although you did volunteer so…”
He chuckles, nodding. “That I did.” Then he walks toward me with a shrug. “Hope you didn’t mind the company?”
Diesel searches my face as the space between us gets smaller and smaller. “Uh, no. Not at all. You’re a lot easier to boss around than Kenzie,” I tease, taking a small step back.
“I don’t know about that…” He lifts his baseball cap, an old one he’s worn for years, and brushes a hand through his messy hair.
“I think that hat is on its last leg,” I say, dragging out the conversation for whatever reason I can’t figure out yet.
“You think so?” The corner of his lips tilts into an amused smirk. “I’ve had this since I was—”
“Fifteen,” I answer without thinking. I’m not sure why I just blurted that out or how I even remember, but the memory resurfaces of the first time he wore it. He’d been working on the ranch all summer, which meant I saw him almost every day. I was horseback riding when he and Riley drove up on a four-wheeler, and I couldn’t stop staring at him. The boys typically wore things to keep the sun out of their eyes while working—either their Stetsons or baseball caps—but this one fit him like a glove, and it stood out to me for some reason.
