“If he shows up,” Bridget said, her tone conveying that she wasn’t counting on it.
“Thursdays have gotten busy. I’m here. I’ll help.”
“More tips for us,” Bridget said with a shrug, picked up her flights, and carried them to a table for two.
“You ready for a refill, Mr. R.?” Lindsay asked Paul Richardson as he slid his empty glass toward her.
“I think I’m good for tonight, Lindsay.” He smiled warmly and pulled his wallet from his pocket.
“I’m surprised to see you here on a Thursday.”
“I was told mixing things up is good for the soul,” he told her with a wink, and dropped thirty dollars on the bar. “Keep the change.”
Lindsay watched him leave, a soft smile on her face, and wished all her customers were half that pleasant.
Mixing things up is good for the soul, huh?
She thought about that. If it was true, she was in pretty good shape, because she’d certainly been mixing things up lately. And, just as it had for the past thirty hours or so, her brain tossed her an image of Piper Bradshaw. Take Charge Piper, boldly asking her on a date. Vulnerable Piper, smiling hesitantly as they sat on the dock. Naked Piper, above her. Beneath her. Touching her. Kissing her.
“God,” she muttered as a pleasant shudder rippled through her body.
“You okay?”
Bridget’s voice startled her; she hadn’t heard her approach. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.” Bridget was giving her that look again. “Seriously. Stop that.”
Vineyard was fairly busy. As she’d said, Thursdays had picked up considerably, people blowing off steam from their week, preparing for the weekend, just looking to relax a bit. Four tables were full, a party of three were sitting in the mismatched chairs on the patio overlooking the lake. Two were seated at the bar, and a party of five had just come in the front door. She and Bridget would have their hands full tonight, and that was a good thing, because she needed her mind taken off Piper, at least for a little while.
She hadn’t seen her yesterday, and that bummed Lindsay out more than she’d expected. There had been a couple texts during the day. Lindsay had been overtly flirtatious. Piper had been…not overtly flirtatious. Or flirtatious at all. She’d been pleasant. Light. But any attempts by Lindsay to reminisce about their night together had been gently sidestepped.
Lindsay didn’t know what to make of that.
Setting up another time to meet seemed like the only way to address things. It made sense. She didn’t like talking about serious matters over text. There was no tone of voice, no facial expressions, and she wanted Piper to see her, to understand what she was saying, where she was coming from. More importantly, she wanted to be able to see Piper, see her face, her eyes.
So why hadn’t she done that yet? Why hadn’t she set something up?
A beep on her tablet indicated an order for two cheese boards, so she headed to the back to arrange them as she continued to analyze her current situation.
A wheel of brie in hand, she asked herself again why she hadn’t yet asked Piper to meet.
Because I’m afraid.
Yeah, not a surprise. She knew that already. And she supposed it was normal to feel that way, but talking about it was the only way to know where things were going. If anywhere.
What if they’re not going anywhere?
It was a question that had been niggling at the back of her brain all day, but she’d refused to give it any energy. Now she forced herself to deal with it. What if Tuesday night was it? Piper had a good time. So had Lindsay. (No, Lindsay’d had an amazing time, but whatever.) And sometimes, that was all it was.
Lindsay refused to believe that. Whatever she’d felt that night, Piper had felt it, too. She knew it. She knew it.
Pulling her phone out of her back pocket, she typed out a text.
When can I see you again? Tomorrow?
Lindsay hit Send before she could second-guess herself, then set the phone on the counter where she could see it. Which was kind of pathetic and a little desperate, but she didn’t care. She didn’t want to miss a reply.
Bridget interrupted her worried thoughts as she blew into the back and snapped up the cheese boards. “Table seven is ready for their check and a party of two just came in,” she said, not even a little bit frantic. Simply matter-of-fact.
“On it.” Lindsay followed her out, and they went to work.
By nine thirty, things had finally started to slow down a bit, and they were left with four occupied tables and a couple at the bar. Zack had been a no-show, which was grounds for firing in Lindsay’s book, though she knew that Mrs. B. gave everybody a second chance. She was going to have to think about that. Maybe Piper would have some insight, as she managed a staff of her own every day.
It was the first time in almost three hours that she’d thought about Piper. She found that to be both astonishing and also a relief. Sliding her phone from her back pocket, she found a text from her mother and one from Josh, who wanted to bring his work pals by again, but nothing from Piper. Trying not to let the dejection wash over her completely, she frowned and stuffed the phone away.
Lindsay sent Bridget home at ten, then she managed things until eleven, when she locked the door. Forty-five minutes of paperwork and she was ready to head home, but as she came out of the back, she was stopped by the giant metal Vineyard sign on the wall with its faded and cracking paint. Yeah, something needed to be done about that. She crossed to it, took it down—slowly and carefully, as it was heavier than she’d expected—and took it out of the wine bar with her. It just fit in her back seat along with the blanket she used for Rocket and his muddy feet. Then she drove home, vowing not to think about Piper Bradshaw for the rest of the night.
“Yeah, right.”
* * *
At 1:17 a.m., Piper was wide awake in bed. Edgar purred loudly in the crook of her knees as she tried her best not to stare at the clock and guess when it would turn to 1:18. 1:19. 1:20.
She’d done it.
She’d told nobody. Not even Ian. But she’d done it.
She’d met with her entire staff, told them exactly what Harbinger intended to do when the merger took place in the very near future, and that if they wanted to start looking for new employment now, she’d do her best to cover for them if they needed to leave for interviews.
“Unfortunately, there’s nothing I can do for you monetarily,” she’d said, her voice laced with genuine regret. “I’m not even supposed to be warning you. I could lose my own job. But…” She let her voice trail off as an unexpected lump of emotion lodged itself in her throat and she had to swallow a couple times to clear it. “I thought it was only fair that you know. I’d prefer that you didn’t share this information or tell anybody where you got it, but I know that I can’t force you to follow my wishes. Just…do what you have to do to take care of yourselves and your families.”
In the history of speeches, it hadn’t been much. It had been quick. It had been quiet. It had been matter-of-fact. But it was so much more than her staff was going to get from anybody else at the company.
Did I do the right thing, Dad?
She’d asked the question so many times today. Out loud. In her head. Over and over. She never got an answer, other than to understand that she felt like it had been the right thing. And then no sooner would she feel that sentiment than the panic would set in. They’re going to fire me! What the hell was I thinking? Damn Lindsay and her do-gooder attitude! This is her fault.
It was interesting that she blamed Lindsay. Why didn’t she blame Ian? It had been his idea first. She’d told him, in no uncertain terms, that he was wrong. That she wasn’t going to do what he was suggesting. And then Lindsay had come along with her beautiful green eyes and her pragmatic reasoning, and Piper had been lost.
When was the last time she was so easily flipped?
Never. That’s when.
Piper Bradshaw wasn’t a person who let others influence her decisions. She
made them. She made them.
With a loud sigh, she turned onto her other side, annoyed at the clock for moving so slowly. Edgar never stopped purring; he simply readjusted his curled body so he was against her stomach. She was being unreasonable. Piper knew that. None of this was Lindsay’s fault. All Lindsay had done was shine a light in a corner of Piper’s mind that she’d been trying not to see. But the blame had to go somewhere.
When can I see you again? Tomorrow?
She hadn’t responded to Lindsay’s text, which was rude. She was aware. Her brain had been too full of worry, regret, self-flagellation, and second-guessing. She felt like she was losing control of everything. And now she’d begun to panic. Too much so to even entertain the idea of another date with Lindsay.
“Another date,” she whispered softly, then scoffed. “Please.” She knew exactly where another date would end them up: in bed. Or on the couch. Or hell, on the floor. Didn’t matter where. Piper knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she wouldn’t be able to keep her hands to herself. She couldn’t deal with that earlier, couldn’t even make room in her overcrowded mind.
But now…
It was late, but she picked up her phone from the nightstand and typed out the text anyway.
I’ll stop by after work.
She clicked Send and turned the phone to silent. And just like that, she felt her eyelids grow heavy as Edgar’s purring faded.
She’d see Lindsay tomorrow.
A small smile tugged the corners of her mouth as she finally drifted off.
She’d see Lindsay tomorrow.
Chapter Eighteen
Piper wandered into Lakeshore at 2:40 Friday afternoon feeling—and probably looking—completely stunned and very much like she’d been mentally beaten up. Ian held the door for her, and when she turned to look at him, he seemed fine. For a moment in time, she wanted to punch him in the throat.
There wasn’t much left of a lunch crowd and only two people sat at the bar—two retirement-age men sipping Coors Lights and watching golf on the TV mounted on the wall. It was a gorgeous day outside, sunny and warm with a light breeze, and a sign to the left of the bar announced a new outdoor patio. Piper could see several customers seated out there. She and Ian took stools at the opposite end of the bar from the two men and made themselves comfortable. Then they smiled at each other, however wanly.
Ian signaled the bartender, a thirty-something guy with a full beard and kind eyes. “We’ll take two vodka tonics and two shots of tequila.”
Piper snapped her head around to gape at him.
“Oh, yeah, baby. Shots. We earned ’em.” Ian scrubbed a hand over his face.
“One shot,” Piper said. “That’s it for me.”
The bartender poured the shots first, slid a salt shaker their way, and handed them each a wedge of lemon on a napkin.
“It has been a day.” Ian licked his hand and sprinkled salt on it. His grin was calm. Unworried.
“How is your head not exploding right now?” Piper asked him, her frustration coming through.
“My head is not exploding because I did the right thing,” he said, matter-of-factly. Then he held up his shot. “And so did you. To doing the right thing.”
Piper shook her head, but touched her shot glass to his. They licked, shot, and sucked in tandem. She felt the burn of the alcohol as it went down and she wished she felt better, wished she felt as sure as Ian did, wished she didn’t feel like the rope anchoring her was frayed so badly, it was about to snap and send her drifting off into oblivion.
They exchanged their empty shot glasses for full-size ones of vodka tonic. Neither spoke as they sipped, but Piper wondered if a stranger could see their differences as they sat there at the bar; they seemed glaringly obvious to her. Ian was calm, relaxed, a confident man without a care in the world. He looked satisfied. Piper, on the other hand, felt jittery, nervous and jerky. Worried. Uncertain. She felt like her eyes were open a bit too wide, as if she was expecting something to jump out and surprise her and was already preparing to see it. Her sips of her drink were too big, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. She finished her cocktail quickly, ordered another.
She’d been let go.
Canned.
Kicked to the curb.
Fired.
She’d been fired.
She’d never been fired before. Piper Bradshaw didn’t get fired. If anything, Piper Bradshaw did the firing. But she’d been called into her boss’s office just after lunch. When she’d arrived, four people were present and Ian showed up only a couple seconds after her. She knew immediately what was happening, and even though she’d known it was a possibility, she never really expected it would happen. She’d been naïve. Naïve and stupid and arrogant. There had been talk, her boss said. Things had been overheard, he’d said. Bottom line: they knew both Ian and Piper had given their staffs heads-ups after they’d been warned not to.
“I’m afraid we have no choice but to let you both go, effective immediately.”
Ian hadn’t seemed surprised. Piper had stood there in disbelief.
God, her father would be so disappointed in her.
Ian had gently taken her arm and led her from the meeting.
Half an hour later, they were in the parking lot, having turned in their security badges and carrying their personal belongings. As they approached their cars, Ian said that he wanted to have a drink with her, but couldn’t stay long. Piper had agreed. What the hell else was she going to do?
Now it was nearly four o’clock, and Ian finished up his second VT and stood.
“Piper, it’s been an honor.” He laid a hand on her shoulder and held out his other one.
She put her hand in his and they shook. “Same here,” she said, surprised by the small lump that formed in her throat.
“You have my number. Keep in touch, okay?” He smiled then, warm and friendly and inviting, and Piper was reminded that he was a pretty great guy. “Take care of yourself. Let me know where you land.”
Piper nodded, then watched him leave with mixed emotions that she didn’t want to deal with. Instead, she ordered another drink.
She was angry. At a lot of different people. At Ian for being naïve (though he would disagree with her). At her father for not being here to talk to her about what she should have done. At Lindsay. God, she was angry at Lindsay. For being Lindsay. For her pie-in-the-sky simplicity of things. For her beautiful eyes and her ability to get under Piper’s skin and for changing her mind about how she should handle the situation at work. But Piper was mostly angry at herself. For too many reasons to even articulate.
“I just want my father,” she muttered aloud.
“Pardon?” the bartender said.
Piper shook her head. “Just another, please.” She slid her glass his way. As he crafted her cocktail, she slipped the wine list out of its little holder and perused what they had. It was a much larger selection than she remembered in the past, and there were flights now. A couple of them looked familiar.
With a sigh, she put the menu back and sipped from the fresh drink the bartender gave her. The bar was dark, depressing, and she felt much the same way. Maybe some sunshine would help?
“Okay if I take this out onto the patio?” she asked the bartender.
He nodded his approval and she headed out into the light of day, knowing her train of emotions was headed to a bad place. Maybe she could cut it off at the pass.
* * *
Lindsay would have liked it to be busier for a Friday night. It wasn’t bad. They were a bit more than half full, but she hadn’t scheduled a band for tonight, and now she wondered if she should have. Smooth hadn’t been available, and that bummed her out. Unreasonably, but still. There were specials running, and those seemed to be doing fairly well, but she wanted more.
It was a gorgeous night, and while there were a few people milling out on the patio, it wasn’t really ready for many, and that frustrated Lindsay no end. She really needed to talk to Piper about it
. It was wasted space, a huge draw that wasn’t being used. She had no idea why not, why the Bradshaws hadn’t immediately furnished and decorated it. Seemed like a complete business failure. Sunset was scheduled for 8:40, according to the weather app on Lindsay’s phone. If she could get the patio furnished, fancied up a bit, she could run some “sunset specials,” that sort of thing. Might bring in more customers. She jotted a note in her little pad.
Moving from the window in the back that overlooked the patio, Lindsay headed into the office. Zack and Bridget were out front handling things just fine, which allowed her to get some paperwork and research done that she’d put off earlier. She had just opened her email when Bridget rapped on the door. Lindsay looked up into her worried face.
“What is it?” Lindsay asked, suddenly concerned.
Before Bridget could answer, Piper appeared behind her. “You have a visitor,” Bridget said with a grimace. She waved Piper into the office, then made a show of closing the door.
Lindsay had an instant bad feeling.
She stood. “Piper. Hi.”
Piper swayed on her feet a bit, and her eyes seemed slightly out of focus. “Don’t hi me,” she said.
Lindsay squinted at her. “Are you okay?”
Piper pointed at her. “I am a lot of things. A lot of things. But okay is not one of them.”
“I see.” It was clear by this point that Piper was drunk. Very drunk. And upset. “Please tell me you didn’t drive here like this.”
“What am I, stupid? No. I Uber’d.”
Lindsay tried to stifle her relief at that. She wanted to know what was going on, but she’d have to tread carefully because Piper had the demeanor of somebody who was about ready to explode. Or maybe throw up. Lindsay had brought an unopened bottle of water into the office with her. Handing it to Piper, she said, “Here.”
Piper snatched it from her hand, cracked the top open, and drank deeply from it. Lindsay took the time to scan over her. She was wearing a suit, so evidently she hadn’t been home from work yet. But the skirt was wrinkled and the sleeves to the jacket were pushed up unevenly, giving her a slightly disheveled appearance. Which was very unlike the Piper Bradshaw Lindsay had gotten used to.
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