Axel leans in, eyes bulging as if I just admitted to slaughtering the man myself. “Did he say anything? Do anything that might have indicated he was in trouble?”
“He was in a hurry, and he was a complete annoyance.” I shoot a quick glance to Shep because he happened to be my second annoyance of the night.
“Did you see him with anyone?” Axel continues his interrogation.
“He was sitting with some guy at the bar. I’m pretty sure Bryson turned over the surveillance evidence to the police.” For some reason, that toasted bride comes to mind, and I shoot a wry smile to Shep.
“What?” Lex demands. “I know that look. You’re hiding something.”
“It’s nothing, I swear. It was a crazy night, and the place was crawling with mental cases. Case in point—Shep”—I steal a moment to sneer at him—“and an entire flock of women dressed up in defunct wedding dresses. They were pretty toasted.”
“Divorce party?” Lex perks up at the thought. Lex is happily married, but something about the bitter side of life has always appealed to her. She’s pleasantly damaged that way.
“You’re close,” I offer a congratulatory nod. “Breakup bash. Fortunately for the bride-to-be, they never made it toI do.” I try not to rewind that psychotic night back in my mind. “Anyway, it was definitely some testosterone-based vitriol happening.” I slit a glance Shep’s way. It’s still happening, and I’m the one carrying the bitter baton.
Baya delivers our food, and we knock it all out in record time. Axel and Lex get up to leave, and we hug it out.
“I’ll be calling you,” Lex says it like a threat, and I certainly appreciate my sister’s brand of hostile concern.
They take off, and it’s just the nuisance and me.
“Well, my shift is starting in a few. Be gone, boy.” I slap him over the chest with a set of spare napkins I pulled out of my apron, and that tiny piece of paper flutters through the air like confetti. “Oh my God!” My limbs flail in a genuine panic, and Shep snaps the paper up effortlessly, holding it over his head as I try my best to snatch it back.
“What’s this?” He tips his head to the side, that cocky grin blooming on his face, and I can’t help but notice those dimples of his digging in deep.
“You infuriate me!” I shout as I leap up and try to take what’s rightfully mine, even if I did inherit it in a rather horrific way.
Shep spins around and examines the paper. “07-45-22-20? What is this?” He turns back, that obnoxious smile wiped from his face. “Your locker combination, sweetie?”
I snap it back and fold it neatly before settling it back where it belongs. “Yes, that’s exactly what it is.” I don’t bother rolling my eyes because it just so happens I like Shep believing he’s right in this case. It’s my murder memento, and as dark as that sounds, I’m not giving it up to Shepherd Collins of all people. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get to work.”
Shep sags into me. That dark stubble on his cheek looks soft enough to touch, and, oddly, my fingers twitch to do just that. “You won’t just be starting your shift, you’ll be starting your internship. I’m letting you do both at the same time so you don’t have to spend any more hours at this place if you don’t want to.”
“Really? You’relettingme?” I can’t help but give him a hard time, even if I am enormously grateful. “Thank you, I think.”
“You’re welcome, I think.” Shep lays a warm hand over my arm, an endearing move if he was my brother, but a completely irritating move considering he’s not. I take a brisk step out of his grasp, and his brows dip disapprovingly. “Your job is to think of something extracurricular that drums up business for this place, and if that happens to be something that could work for you as well financially, that’s bonus points. It’ll be next to impossible, though. I’m not really expecting you to pull off that feat.” He gives a conciliatory wink as if gifting me an out.
I don’t waste a moment before getting in his face. “Then that’s exactly what I’ll do.”
“Serena”—he says my name as if he felt sorry for me—“this is a bar. A hookup joint personified. Don’t waste the energy. Just streamline their soda machines or something simple to that effect.”
“Something simple?” My rage hits its zenith, zero to hot-headed hero in less than a scathing second. Come to think of it, Shep has always had the power to accelerate my heart rate—especially after that infamous night. And more than I hate that infamous night, I hate the fact it never seems to affect him. And why would it? He’s the ass that caused it in the first place. A perpetrator is seldom sorry for the damage they cause. Not that I’m damaged. In fact, I’m better than ever before.
“You think I’m too simpleminded to take on the challenge, don’t you?” I poke him hard in the chest, and my finger feels as if I’ve just poked a wall of granite. “You think my brain cells couldn’t handle jumping through the hoops required to come up with something great, don’t you?” I give another hard-hitting poke and, my God, Shep is made of steel. I’m pretty sure if I poke any harder I’ll have a broken finger to contend with. “In fact, I will think of something extracurricular not only to help the Black Bear increase their profits, but I’ll line my bank account with some extra green myself.” Which would be great, considering my bank account is far more used to a bright red bloodbath instead.
A thought comes to me, swift as a lightning bolt, and I suck in a deep breath.
“You’re right. The Black Bear is hookup central.” I glance to the crowd funneling in, filled with coeds and hot as hell jocks that look ready to party. “A dating app for WB.” I straighten triumphantly. “The hookups, as you so crudely referred to them, can meet up at the Black Bear, a safe, public environment, grab dinner—which will increase the bottom line for the owners and bring the nickels rolling in my direction too, considering I’ll be charging a fee to access my bevy of beauties.” I blow a breath over my nails and buff them against my collar. “Now scat! Your wicked work here is done.”
I take off for the kitchen and put on my nametag as the masses continue to filter through those doors. It’s going to be a long night. The summer is already off to a psychotic start and we haven’t even gotten out of the gate. Harley and that sleazy dive club she mentioned come to mind. Maybe I will do something out of character and totally insane to unwind.
I clock in, speed back out to the bar, and smack into Shep as he’s heading for the exit. Our eyes lock for a moment, and something in the pit of my stomach cinches. A jolt runs through me just the way it did all those years ago, and I slap my hands over his chest, pushing him away. Shep lifts his arms in the air as if surrendering before backing up and bolting out the door.
Just the memory of what happened all those years ago infuriates me even more.
I loosen and tie my apron once again, a habit I’ve picked up on when I’m good and frustrated, and working ten tables in a packed house has usually done it, even though this time the honor clearly goes to Shepherd Collins. I’m about to segue behind the bar when I look up and spot a dark-haired guy with a pale as paper face. There’s something eerily familiar about him, and I squint into him trying to place him. Maybe one of Tyson Swanson’s friends? No, too old. Harley had better not have anything to do with this guy. He totally looks like trouble—trouble!
That’s it. That’s where I know him.
