He blamed himself for not being there that night to protect me, and no matter how many times I tried telling him it wasn’t his fault, I just couldn’t seem to get through. He felt like he’d failed me, and I could see the pain in his eyes every time he’d looked at me.
I wasn’t just an employer to him. I’d been like a daughter, and as far as he was concerned, he’d fallen down on his job.
As much as it hurt to leave him and Jase behind, it was what I needed to fully heal, and when I told Bennett where I planned on going, I’d nearly come undone at the tears that formed in his eyes before he pulled me into a crushing embrace and whispered how proud of me he was.
“Not yet, but I will,” I told my brother.
“Good. I know he’d love that. He’s missing you something fierce, sweet pea.”
That lump in my throat returned, doubling in size and making my voice rough and husky. “I miss him too. I miss both of you, but I worry about him with Mom and Dad. If they knew I got the idea to move here from him—”
“They won’t find out,” Jase assured me. “Only people who know the reason behind you picking that town are the three of us, and none of us are telling.”
That was a bit of a relief, but I still had other concerns when it came to Bennett. “I hate thinking of him with them,” I admitted in a soft voice laced liberally with concern. “You moved out years ago, and with me not there anymore . . .”
“I’ve got my eyes on things, little sis. No need to work yourself up. You know as well as I do that man’s more than capable of taking care of himself.”
Jase had a point. Bennett might have been viewed as nothing more than the hired help by my folks and the circles they ran in, but that didn’t mean he put up with their shit. Truth be told, I honestly believed my father was a little scared of Bennett. He might have been a good twenty years older, but he was still a big man, and there was some serious power in his aging frame.
He’d never spoken a word when my dad would go into one of his indignant rages, mainly because he didn’t need to. He was so big and intimidating, all he had to do was stand there silently with his arms crossed over his wide chest while giving you this look. I’d never been on the receiving end of that look myself, but I’d witnessed him give it to my father enough times that I knew it could rattle even the sturdiest of men.
Jase admitted to me once that he’d gotten the look when Bennett caught him and a bunch of his friends getting drunk at a party when he was sixteen. He said it was so scary that he and his buddies nearly pissed their pants.
“I know,” I said, blowing out a frustrated breath. “I’m probably overreacting, just . . . promise you’ll look out for him, okay? You’ve seen firsthand how vindictive Mom and Dad can be when they don’t get what they want.”
A sound akin to a growl vibrated out of the speakers. “I still can’t believe they disinherited you.”
“I can,” I replied with a biting laugh. “I don’t know why you’re so surprised. That move was totally in their wheelhouse. But it doesn’t matter. I still have the trust from Grandpa that they couldn’t touch, and that interest is more than enough to live on, even with the cost of the house and the renovations. Losing that money isn’t the end of the world. It’s not like I’d done anything to earn it anyway.”
“That’s bullshit,” he spat angrily. “You earned it simply by being born into and surviving this cesspool of a family. And after what you suffered through? I can’t believe they’d be so—”
“Jase, enough,” I clipped, stopping him before he could complete that thought. It was bad enough I now had the nightmares and anxiety that came with what had happened to me that night. I didn’t need my loved ones constantly bringing it up. It was something I’d lived through that would, unfortunately, always be a part of me. That didn’t mean I was okay talking about it all the time.
“Christ, I’m sorry, Farah. I didn’t mean . . .”
The agony was clear in his voice, and I found myself softening mine in an attempt to make him feel better. “It’s all right. But now it’s my turn to tell you there’s no use in getting worked up. It’s over and done with. I’ve moved on.” Or as on as I could move, seeing as the scars—both mentally and physically—still lingered.
There was silence for several seconds, and I knew my brother well enough to know he was trying to gage the sincerity in my voice. “You sure, honey?”
“Positive,” I answered truthfully. “Besides, I was already thinking about getting a job anyway.”
“If you want a job, not a doubt in my mind you’ll get one,” he said with sincerity, and I felt that burn through me. My brother. He’d always had complete faith in me and believed I could do anything I set my mind to, no matter what that anything was.
“I love you, bub,” I said, my voice scratchy with emotion.
“I know, sweet pea. I love you too. Down to my bones. And even though you’re living a thousand miles away now, I’m always here for you. Always. You got that?”
I sniffled again, blinking the tears from my eyes so I could see the road before me. “That’s it,” I declared fiercely. “I don’t care how angry it makes Mom and Dad. I get you for Thanksgiving.”
Jase chuckled before he stated, “I can give you that.”
“Keep being sweet, and I’m taking Christmas too,” I snapped.
“My Farah wants Thanksgiving and Christmas, I’ll make it happen. You know that.”
God, my brother.
Lifting a hand off the steering wheel, I batted at the tears that had fallen onto my cheeks. “All right, bub. I’m sure you need to get back to work, so I’ll let you go.”
“Okay, talk soon. And I’ll be looking out for those pictures once construction gets underway.”
We hung up just as I pulled to a stop at a red light. The sound of a loud, rumbling engine starting up shot through the air, and I looked to the right just in time to see a man on a motorcycle pulling out of the parking lot of a bar I’d seen in passing a few times during my trips into town, but had never paid much attention to.
The place was called Bad Alibi. I remembered thinking that was a pretty cool name for a bar the first time I saw it, but other than that, I hadn’t given the place much thought. However, as I looked to the old saloon-style building now, I noticed a sign posted in one of the front windows. It had to be fate, seeing that help wanted sign just after I mentioned getting a job to my brother minutes before. It was fate that brought Bennett into my life with his stories of this beautiful town. It was fate that had led me to look online myself to find that stunning Victorian after dismissing every house my realtor had shown me. So I had to believe that seeing that sign now was fate extending her hand once more.
I’d never imagined myself working at a bar, especially one that, from the number of motorcycles out front, catered heavily to bikers.
But I was a whole new Farah. And New Farah could do anything she wanted.
Chapter 2
Farah
My excitement and certainty that I was meant to do this lasted all of ten and a half seconds—exactly as long as it took for me to hit my blinker, turn into the parking lot of Bad Alibi, and park my car.
Shaking off the nerves suddenly coursing through my body, I forced myself to kill the engine and climb out. I hooked my purse over my shoulder and started for the door.
The moment I stepped inside, I instantly regretted that I hadn’t found the time yet to throw out the wardrobe from my old life and go on a shopping spree, and as I looked around at the people currently staring in my direction, I mentally penciled that in as the next item on my to-do list.
To say I was out of my element here was downright laughable. I stuck out like a pimple on the tip of your nose that popped up just hours before prom.
The black floral-print silk blouse I was wearing had cost a small fortune, something that was obvious just by looking at. I might have been wearing jeans like most everyone else in there, but where theirs looked worn and comfortable, mine
had bejeweled back pockets and I’d spent as much on them as most people spent on one month’s rent.
“Can I help you, darlin’?”
At the feminine voice, I turned toward the bar and locked eyes with the pretty brunette who looked to be in her mid-to-late fifties standing behind it. I gave her a sincere yet shaky smile and started her way, the heels of my Louboutins clicking on the distressed wood floors with each step I took. “Hey. Hi. Yes. I mean, I hope so.” I extended my hand across the bar. “I’m Farah.”
She took the handshake I offered with a polite, “Nice to meet you, Farah. I’m Darla.”
Getting down to brass tacks before I could lose my nerve, I stated, “I’m here about the sign in your window.”
Her head cocked to the side as she gave me a questioning look. “Sign?”
“Um, yeah. The help wanted sign? I was hoping I could apply for the job. Whatever it is.”
Her brows drew together, and she gave me a slow once-over before finally meeting my eyes again, still looking confused. “You wanna work here?”
At the disbelief in her voice, it was my turn to be confused. I mean, it wasn’t as if the bar was a dingy hole in the wall. I hadn’t exactly had a lot of time to scope the place out, but from what I’d been able to see, it was pretty decent. “Well, yeah.” Then a sinking feeling hit the pit of my stomach. “That is, if you haven’t already filled the position.”
“No offense, hon, but I’m not really sure this is the place for you.”
I felt my shoulders slump as I deflated a bit. “If it’s experience you’re worried about, I waited tables in college.” Another example in a long line of ways I’d disappointed my parents. A waitress at a college bar? Unspeakable! “It’s been a few years, but I can pick it back up in no time. Or if it’s a bartender you’re looking for, I can learn. I’ve always been a quick learner. Hell, I can even bus tables.”
Giving me eye contact so direct I couldn’t help but fidget under her intense scrutiny, Darla leaned in, resting her forearms on the bar and clasping her hands together. “You’re new in town, aren’t you?”
I wasn’t sure where she was going with that question but answered anyway. “Yeah. I just moved here a few weeks ago.”
“Where’d you come from?”
I hesitated for several beats, getting the impression that my answer was going to make or break her decision. “Connecticut.”
“Of course you did,” she said with a dry laugh that made my back grow stiff.
“I’m sorry?”
She let out a sigh, and I got the feeling that she found having to deal with me as annoying as swatting at an incessant gnat. “Look, it’s not a lack of experience I’m worried about. From your fancy getup, that expensive-as-hell purse, and that Merc you cruised up in, not to mention the fact you come from a place known for havin’ more WASPs than a damn hive, I’m willin’ to go out on a limb and say you’re from money. And the only reason a chick from money would ask about a job at a bar like this is because she’s either lookin’ to slum it for a bit, or she’s on the run from somethin’. Both of those scenarios bring drama with them, and neither are somethin’ I’m in the mood to take on.”
Humiliation creeped in, heating my neck and cheeks as I lowered my voice and declared, “Excuse me, but you don’t know me well enough to make a snap judgement like that.”
“Oh honey.” She let loose another humorless laugh as she stood tall. “I know you. Trust me.”
“No you don’t,” I snapped, losing hold of my temper, something I hadn’t done in years. “You do not know me. If you did, you’d realize how insulting everything you just said about me really is.”
She arched a single brow. “So you’re sayin’ you don’t come from a line of rich-ass, entitled snobs?” My mouth snapped shut, not because I was offended, but because I couldn’t deny that. With the exception of Jase, my family was the very definition of rich, entitled, and snobby. “See?” Darla said when I took too long to answer. “Told you I knew you. And while I appreciate you comin’ in, I’m gonna have to pass. I need someone dependable that’ll last. I hire you and you decide you’re done sowin’ your wild oats, I’m left one waitress short and have to go through the hiring process all over again, which, honest to God, is not somethin’ I enjoy.”
She started to turn, dismissing me completely, and just like that, the dam broke. My mouth opened and words began pouring out before I could attempt to stop them.
“Yes, you’re right. I come from money. And you’re right that my family is full of a bunch of rich, entitled, WASP assholes. But you were wrong to paint me with that same brush. I didn’t come in here because I’m looking to sow my wild oats as you so politely put it, and I’m not on the run from anyone. I’m here because I’ve just recently moved to town to start fresh. Sure, I might not need to work, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to. And, yes, I have a trust fund that I could easily live on for the rest of my days, but I’m not that kind of person. I like to be useful. I like helping wherever I can. I never really fit in with my family, mainly because I felt a woman’s worth was more than lunching and shopping, something my parents and I never saw eye-to-eye on.
“I’m here because I never cared much for the life I was stuck with, and that includes the philandering asshole I’d been engaged to. You might look at me and see a spoiled brat with money, but I promise you, that’s not who I am. I learned the hardest way possible that life is short, and since learning that lesson, I promised myself I was going to start living for me, and that’s why I’m here.”
By the time I finished my rant, I was breathing heavily and my hands were shaking so badly I had to clench them into fists. Everything that had just come out of my mouth had been completely unplanned. Never in my life had I laid myself bare like that for anyone, especially a stranger.
The moment I registered all the personal details I’d just revealed, my eyes went wide and that trembling in my hands moved throughout my arms. The only thing keeping me from melting into a puddle of embarrassment was the fact that it was still relatively early, so the crowd in the bar wasn’t very big, and I’d been speaking in a hushed tone the whole time, so no one else had heard me.
“Sit,” Darla ordered, pointing to the stool beside me.
“I—what?”
Spinning around to the fridge tucked in behind the counter, she whipped the door open and pulled out a bottle of beer, uncapping it as she returned to me, and said, “Park it right there and drink this. You look like you’re about two seconds from keelin’ over.”
“Oh, um . . . I don’t think—”
“Sit,” she repeated in a tone that left no room for argument. So I sat. “Drink.” Admittedly, she was slightly scary, so I picked up the beer and took a big gulp, wincing at the harsh bitterness as it went down. I heard humor in her tone as she asked, “Not a big beer drinker?”
When I looked at her, I saw the harsh, bossy demeanor was gone and she was grinning now, making her a million times more approachable. “Not a big drinker in general.” Having said that, I took another huge gulp, needing the fortification the alcohol would provide. The second drink went down a little smoother, but I still sucked in a hiss between my teeth and cringed, putting the bottle down. “Thanks. That helps.”
She resumed her position with her arms resting on the bar. “You good now?”
My cheeks heated, and I knew from experience that they were glowing a bright red. “Yeah, I’m good,” I mumbled, looking down and picking at the label on the bottle with my thumbnail. “Sorry about that. That whole speech kinda got ahead of me.”
“Don’t sweat it,” she replied casually. “Happens to the best of us. So you said you have waitressing experience?”
My head shot up and my eyes went big as they locked on hers. “I—yeah. Yes. I do. I have waitressing experience,” I answered quickly.
She gave me a quizzical look before stating. “This place can get pretty rowdy. You sure you’re up for that?”
I igno
red the uncomfortable prickling in my skin at that, and declared, “Absolutely!” with a bit too much enthusiasm. “I worked at a bar on my college campus for three years. If I can put up with a bunch of drunk college students, I can put up with anything.”
“Not so sure about that,” she noted with heavy skepticism. “This is a biker town, hon. You get what that means, right?”
I wasn’t sure I fully comprehended what she was trying to get at, but I wasn’t about to admit that to her. “I can handle it. I promise,” I insisted.
“Fine,” she relented on a huff. “I’m willin’ to give you a trial run—on a few conditions,” she added hastily when my excitement threatened to overtake me. “First, you don’t wear clothes like that for work.” She pointed to my ensemble, and I cast my eyes down to look myself over before returning them to her. “Nothin’ wrong with it, necessarily,” she continued, speaking in a way that told me my style was definitely not her cup of tea. “But this job pays shit. All the money comes from tips, and if you come in here lookin’ like you’re ready to head to a yacht party, these people’ll eat you alive.”
Something came over me just then, and I felt my lips stretch into a teasing smirk. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’d never wear this to a yacht party. An event like that calls for a sarong, wedges, and a bathing suit.”
“Good, you can be a smartass,” Darla said with an approving smile. “You’ll need that here. That leads me to condition two. I know some places are all about the customer bein’ right, but this is a bar in a biker town. You don’t take shit from these guys. Got it? You work your ass off to sell as much booze as possible, but that doesn’t mean you have to put up with assholes bein’ handsy. Someone gets in your space that you don’t want there, you got every right to get them out.”
Fall in Love Book Bundle: Small Town Romance Box Set Page 255
