“How’s Dawn?” Ryan asked.
“Hello to you too, Ryan,” Kissie replied, climbing onto the stool next to him.
“Sorry. Hi, Kissie.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “You’re looking…refreshed.”
Biting her cheek, she said, “Thanks. I took a little walk around town and it’s cold as hell out there.”
“That must be why you look so flushed. The cold.”
Trig cleared his throat, drawing Ryan’s attention. “Is there a reason you’re giving my—” he caught himself. He must be sexually frustrated to the point of delirium because he’d almost accidentally called Kissie his girlfriend— “you’re giving Kissie such a hard time?”
“Yeah, Ryan. What the heck?” Kissie shot back, nudging Ryan’s shoulder with hers.
“Oh, no reason.” Ryan’s gaze shifted from Kissie to Trig and back again.
Until Kissie asked, “Do you have any more of that soup? Dawn woke up hungry and—”
“On it!” Ryan was up and around the bar before Kissie had finished her sentence.
Her brow furrowed. “He’s weird today.”
“He’s weird every day,” Trig said with a sigh.
With Ryan opening and closing cupboards and shifting pots and pans around in the kitchen, Trig realized he and Kissie were alone for the first time since this morning.
“Hi,” she said, reaching across the bar to hook her finger around his thumb.
“Hi,” he said back, wondering if he could lean forward fast enough to kiss her before Ryan came back. Ultimately, he decided against it.
He’d gotten carried away with her this morning, unable to resist her warm, naked body in the blurry space between asleep and awake where defenses laid low and consequences hid in the shadows. But it was afternoon now, bright yellow sunlight glinting off the pool while guests and townies swam before they’d all descend on the bar.
When he looked at Kissie in the cold light of day, he saw a gorgeous woman who would absolutely demolish him when she left in the morning. He needed to pull back, pump the brakes. Even though the rule about making her breakfast had been a lie, he needed to make a real rule of his own: No falling in love with another woman who would only leave him.
“When does it start getting busy?” she asked, wiping her hands on her skirt. “I’m nervous.”
“Have you ever tended bar before?”
She grimaced. “For, like, a hot minute in college. I was awful at it.”
“Awful? How awful?” He might have to keep her on beer and wine only.
“Well, the low point was when this one dude spit the drink I made him out on my dress because it was so bad.”
“Shit.” Trig whistled. “That’s harsh.”
“Yeah, I got fired that same night.”
He patted her hand. “If it’s any consolation, I probably would have fired you too.”
“Well, too bad for you,” she said, pulling her hand away and flipping her hair off her shoulder. “I’m volunteering, so you can’t fire me.”
“I’m not sure that’s how that works.”
“It is too.” She stood from her stool and walked around the bar, pushing her clasped hands out in front of her to crack her knuckles. “Now, show me what’s in a Long Island Iced Tea.”
When she reached for a bottle of whiskey, he grasped her waist and pulled her back.
“Definitely not whiskey.”
