by Jami Wagner
I stop slicing the lime in my hand, set the knife calmly on the bar top in front of me, and focus on her. Sara hasn’t made eye contact with me once since she shared her announcement. She’s not telling me something. She’s sitting on one of the high-top stools at the other side of the bar, planning the next week’s work schedule. She looks up from her papers and her long, blonde curls fall around her guilty face. Big, blue eyes look everywhere but at me before returning to the calendar lying in front of her. She clicks her pen twice before she says anything.
“Come on, Kelsey, this is your final semester of college. Do you really want to be running a bar and going to class?” She glances up. “Besides, we both know you hate working in general, and if I can’t rely on you to show up on time to bartend the 3:00 p.m. shift, there’s no way you can manage this place for a whole a year while I’m gone.”
A whole year! I thought she didn’t know how long she was going to be gone.
I let out a small huff, grabbing the knife and cutting into the green ball in front of me a bit more harshly than I should, all while cursing at how well she knows me. It’s true. I hate being told what to do and when and where I need to be. I hate working. Correction—I hate working on a schedule someone else has made for me—even if it works around my classes—and rules are my enemy.
Yet here I am, about to graduate with a degree in accounting, which has nothing to with writing, my dream job. Writing would let me be anywhere at any time and be happy. Accounting will do nothing but give me a job where I’ll have to work eight to five behind a desk. I’ll probably work harder than I do as a bartender while making half the money. And that says something, because life as a bartender can be pretty intense work. What was I thinking?
Make Daddy proud. Maybe an accounting degree will get him to notice you. That’s what I was thinking.
“I’m only late because I got lost in my studies.” My voice is cheery and exaggerated.
“Ha, yeah okay, studies. I wasn’t aware you were majoring in how to take the longest naps ever,” she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
I give her my best sad face, bottom lip out and all. I can’t help it when I fall asleep from a boring textbook. Hand me a romance novel or some suspense, and I’ll pull an all-nighter.
“But the main reason I’m not leaving you in charge is because you stress easily. I don’t want you becoming too overwhelmed this semester. It’s your last one. Enjoy it.”
That’s sweet of her. But I still think she’s holding back information.
The idea of new management terrifies me. I admit I need someone who can cut me some slack—college isn’t as easy as some people make it look.
“Who is your replacement, and what if they fire me while you’re gone because they don’t know how I work? They don’t know me like you, and they won’t ‘let it slide’ on account of the best friend rule.”
It’s quite simple: We always forgive each other no matter what and we don’t judge each other or do anything that would cause the other to fail in life. Hence, if she fired me, I would fail in helping pay our rent.
“My cousin is coming to take over. I promise I already told him about you and that no matter what happens, he can’t fire you.” She shrugs, continuing to write out the schedule. Just like that. Problem solved. “Those weren’t my exact words, but I run this place, not him. Technically he has to do what I say even if I’m not here. So you can stop having whatever huge mental freak out your having, because it doesn’t look good on you.”
I try not to smile. I was not having a huge freak out. Minor, possibly.
It’s the first week of my final semester of college and everything should be going exactly the way I’ve written in my planner. A day shouldn’t go by without having at least one item checked off. Even if it’s as simple as watering the plants on Friday.
The main focus of my plan is the fact I’m housesitting for my parents for most of the semester, which means I’ll have plenty of alone time to study and pass the last of my dreaded accounting classes. I still can’t believe I left payroll accounting and tax income for the last semester. If I were smart, I would’ve taken them earlier. Scratch that, if I were smart, I would have enrolled in a degree for creative writing and taken a full credit load every semester to finish college earlier. But no, I didn’t do that and now I’m graduating in the fall with a degree that means more to my father than me.
The next piece that makes my life so easy right now is working for Sara at The Black Alcove Bar. She’s my best friend and my boss. It has its perks, such as my free-flowing schedule to work around homework and class. This bartending shift is defiantly a key player that’s holding me and my perfected plan together. All my friends work here and it feels like home. We’re a team that wants to succeed, and we do everything we can to help each other whether it’s at work or not.
Another piece keeping me happy: the fact my cheating ex-boyfriend lives on the other side of town. And thank god for that because I throw up just a little in my mouth every time I lay eyes on him. All summer he’s been finding reasons to “bump” into me. He feels like he needs to explain himself, but I understood the girl underneath him just fine. I’m ready for space to focus on me and what I want. To finish college and find a job writing before I find one in accounting.
The last and best part of my plans—there’s still one more month to enjoy weekends sunbathing at the lake. In all honesty, I probably won’t make it out there, but knowing I have the option is nice.
That’s the plan. Plain and simple with no room for errors. Those details might not be the ones written down, but they are engraved inside my head and they aren’t going anywhere. This final five months of college should be something I look forward to with a positive attitude. It’s the time in my life when everything is finally coming together. I should be shouting and celebrating.
Unfortunately at this moment, I’m anything but positive.
“Well, maybe I can teach him to do what I say, too.” We laugh at my joke even though a part of me really isn’t joking. “Which cousin is it?” I ask, leaning my hip against the bar and glancing at the cooler behind me.
It should have been stocked last night, but Sara and Logan were closing. This is the third time in two weeks she’s asked me to come in and help open after the two of them shut the place down. After her announcement, I’m starting to think it’s her way of getting in some extra friend time. Either that, or she and Logan aren’t actually working when they’re together. I’m going with option B, but if I say that out loud, they will both deny it.
“Umm, Ethan,” she says.
Ethan.
I freeze, resting my forearms against the counter.
“He was the cousin who used to stay with us over the summers. The same cousin you dumped a bucket of paint on when my dad was redoing the floor in this place.” She pauses to look down. “I’m so glad he decided to go with the whole tie-dye floor thing. It gives this place some color.”
I smirk. I only dumped the paint because Ethan was trying to remind me about our so-called “kiss.” We got lucky when Sara’s dad actually liked the mess I made. He went out and bought buckets of assorted colors, letting us kids go wild coating the cement floor. I aimed for Ethan with every bucket I touched.
“Anyway, his dad and my dad are brothers, so he’s used to the whole owning your own business thing. Plus, he just got a business degree and wants to add this to his experience,” she continues. “He’s only a year older than us; you have to remember him.”
Oh, I remember him. How could I forget? Still to this day no one knows what happened, not even Sara. I should have known geeks were the worst.
“You know he had that stupid mushroom haircut thing going on and glasses.” Sara laughs, but then the giggles fade and she stares off at something behind me. I follow her gaze to find nothing important, and when I look back at her she’s again focused on her papers. “That’s the one problem with this plan. I haven’t seen him in years. I hate to be sha
llow, but I can’t have a nerd running this place. We have a reputation to uphold and he could ruin it.”
She glances up. “Come on, Kelsey, you have to remember him.”
Oh right, she’s refreshing my memory. I give my head a slight nod as I pretend to remember.
“Yeah, he was the one who was always following us around. I bet we could still make him wait on us hand and foot.” We both begin to laugh again but are quickly cut off.
“I don’t think that’s going to happen this time.”
I jump at the deep voice that echoes inside the empty bar. In the doorway stands the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. Tall, dark, and handsome doesn’t even begin to describe him. Is that … Ethan?
Sara hops off the stool with a giant smile on her face and quickly rushes to give him a hug. The veins that appear in his toned arms as he gives her a tight squeeze send a flutter through my entire stomach. Holy crap, he’s huge. This is not the nerdy boy I remember. His body looks firm and sexy.
When Sara lets go of him, she turns to me. Her movement grabs my attention, snapping my eyes to hers before he can catch me checking him out.
“Kelsey, you remember Ethan,” she says, and I can tell she’s happy with her decision to leave him in charge. Looks like her bar’s reputation is going to survive. “I was just telling Kelsey how you’re going to take over for me while I’m gone,” she says to Ethan. Although I don’t think he heard her. His eyes are focused solely on me.
Ethan takes a step forward in his black shirt and blue jeans, and I watch him cautiously until he’s standing in front of me. My fingers grip tighter onto the counter, trying to keep myself standing. He’s even more gorgeous now than he was before.
His green eyes are bright against his short, black hair, and when he smiles, I know instantly that I don’t stand a chance at holding my damn plan into place. Not that I ever did. He extends his hand to me, but I just stand there. I don’t move. I don’t do anything. Not even blink.
He lets out a deep chuckle, and my heart races so fast and loud, I swear he can hear it. “You haven’t changed a bit.” He raises an eyebrow, never taking his gaze off mine. “Still keeping quiet, I see.”
I swallow and then break our eye contact. Holy crap. When I look up again, Ethan is glancing over to Sara, who’s standing next to him, leaning against the counter.
“Is she this quiet with the customers too?” he jokes.
“No, she isn’t,” Sara says then looks at me with both eyebrows raised. She’s trying to tell me something. She tilts her head toward Ethan and her eyes grow even bigger as they flicker toward Ethan and back to me.
I return my attention to Ethan and open my mouth.
Crap. What am I supposed to say? Think, Kelsey, think. Either speak or close your mouth. You haven’t spoken to him since that unfortunate summer. It was just one kiss, nothing to get worked up about. Don’t embarrass yourself.
I nod. “Hey,” I say, wiggling my fingers and cringing at the pitch of my voice. “How’s it going?”
Sara erupts into a fit of laughter I’ve never heard before, and I can feel my cheeks as they begin to blush. I look away the moment I feel the tears trying to fight their way forward. Ohmygod! Ohmygod! Ohmygod! So much for not embarrassing myself. How high did my voice seriously just go?
I stare at the countertop, pretending to be deeply distracted by a dent in the wood. I trace my finger over it and silently hope they’ll leave soon, when Ethan’s calming voice grabs my attention.
“Things are going good, just got to town. The wind here is annoying as hell, but I can get used to it,” he says with a half grin. He winks at me then turns to Sara, who is staring at us with a satisfied smile on her face.
“Do you want go over my responsibilities out here or in your office?’ he asks, getting right to the point of his visit.
“I’ll meet you in there.” She points her office.
“Cool,” he says. “I’ll see you around, Kelsey.”
Ethan flashes a heart-stopping smile my way before he turns for Sara’s office and disappears.
The moment he’s out of sight, my breathing returns, and it feels like I just finished running a marathon.
“You are totally into him,” Sara says, pointing behind her with her thumb and walking backward toward her office. “You were blushing a deep red just now. I can’t believe I’m going to miss everything. Now, get out of here, and thanks again. I don’t know why I get so on edge about the way Logan cleans at night. I promise one day I won’t call you in to help last minute.”
I don’t respond to her while she laughs since my mind is still processing the fact Ethan is back and is going to be my new temporary boss.
After she closes the door, I let out a long breath before grabbing my purse from under the counter and marching out the door, straight to my car.
I round the corner from the bar and wave to Mrs. Mulligan, who’s walking into the diner next to the BA. She waves back then stops to watch as I get closer to my car. She’s nearing her eighties, which means she’s starting to become very nosey. Something my mom warned me about—and she should know. As Mrs. Mulligan’s neighbor, Mom has put up with more than a few surprise visits.
I pull the keys from my purse but pause mid-step when I see the large silver and shiny Toyota Tundra parked next to my tiny, white Ford Focus. The truck still has new plates and makes my car look like it’s owned by a homeless person. God, even his truck is gorgeous.
I’m so totally screwed. I shouldn’t be stunned into silence or struck in awe by Ethan or any other man. Men suck. Always have and always will.
Ethan
This is going to be one hell of a year.
I sit in one of the old torn chairs in front of Sara’s desk, resting my hands behind my head as I wait for her. The chair squeaks when it leans back, and it goes far enough to make me think it’s going to tip over. I sit up straight and pull my thoughts together.
I’m here to manage this place while Sara is away as a favor to my uncle, but mostly to get my father off my back. I’m not like him or my brothers. I can’t manipulate people to get things I don’t deserve. Like this bar, for example. If it weren’t for the fact I’m sick of my father telling me how ungrateful I am and a pathetic man, I wouldn’t be here secretly helping him sabotage his way into owning this place. Most normal guys my age would tell their dads to “fuck off,” but not me. Family is important, and as shitty as they are some days, they’re the only family I have. And that reason alone is why I’m here.
My mindset walking into this was “get in, get out in less than two weeks.” Sara needs someone for almost a year, but the sooner my dad is happy, the sooner I don’t have to listen to him anymore. But now, I might take a little longer. I wasn’t expecting to walk in and find a certain slender and still beautiful brunette standing behind the counter.
Kelsey Brian.
One look from her and I forgot everything.
All she did was stand behind the counter, staring at me, and I already know there’s no way I’m going to stop thinking about her. Hell, I don’t think I ever have. Those big, golden eyes practically undressing me the minute I walked in the door. Her full, pink lips falling slightly apart as I walked closer. She smelled like Red Hots, the cinnamon candy, and my body had responded immediately.
I never could forget that girl. I wanted her so badly every summer I came here, to Wind Valley. That last time I was here, I had to beg my father to let me go. I had to have one last chance with her. When she found me during Sara’s barbeque and pulled me to a hidden spot, I knew this was it. I was going to get exactly what I wanted. I was finally going to kiss her.
Then I ruined it.
My cell buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out to see a text from my father.
Dad: Don't let me down.
I read the message twice, remembering the last thing he said to me before I came here. You better turn that heart to stone before you give the Connelly name a poor reputation. My father’s words are b
randed into my brain.
Fuck. As much as I hate it, I better repeat that every day. Kelsey’s hot, but getting my dad off my back is more important right now than any woman.
Sara closes the door behind her and sits on the other side of her large desk. She doesn’t say anything as she sorts through the papers in front of her, probably trying to find the one she needs. There are papers covering every inch of the wooden surface, and my need to always have things in order is trying to push its way out. I stand quickly and move to a bookshelf, picking up random pictures to keep my hands busy before I start to clean off her desk for her.
“Is everything okay?” she asks.
“Mmm hmm, everything’s good.” I glance down at her surroundings. Fuck, this office is a mess.
Sara smiles before finally clearing off a spot and setting a stack of papers on the open area. “These are for you. I need you to fill them out before we get started,” she instructs, gesturing to the stack. “Thanks again for helping out. Our fathers couldn’t have picked a better time to make up.”
They haven’t actually made up, but she doesn’t need to know that. It is all an act my father put on to get me into this spot. Deep down, I know my father shouldn’t be mad at my grandfather for leaving everything to Sara’s father, but without my grandpa here to defend himself, my dad is taking it out on my uncle. And he’s doing that by sending me here to find a few account numbers that he can use.
My grandfather’s will said the bar belonged to my uncle. But there’s also a clause that says if the day comes where money is misused in any form, the bar will then transfer to my father. Hence, my dad wants the account numbers to move money that isn’t his into accounts that personally belong to my uncle.
“That will happen with stubborn old men,” I say instead of the truth, returning to my seat across from her.
“What’s it been … six or seven years since I last saw you?”
It’s been seven, but if she can’t remember, neither can I.
