Hmph. I’m not old enough to be ama’am.
Am I?
“Hardly,” I grumble to myself.
I’m nearly done with the limes when the first wave of people arrive.
It’s always in groups. Even if they’re all alone, it’s like some telepathic signal goes out, drawing them in.
I’ve grown to accept it.
Two older men slide into the stools nearby.
“What can I get you boys?” I give them the same smile and nod as they order.
A couple of whiskey sours, and the night has begun.
By the time Sawyer comes up with the next case, I have three pending food orders to redirect him on.
Without a word, he takes the slips and u-turns into the kitchen.
“Who’s that?” One of the older men gestures toward the swinging door as I slide his next round in front of him.
“Oh, that’s one of my helpers.” I always prefer to not drop names of anyone.
And Sawyer has always come across as the shy type.
“So not your boyfriend?” The first jostles his buddy with a grin.
I let out a throaty laugh. “No man can tie me down.”
It was a mistake I’ll never make again. Chris turned out to be an absolute monster. I should have seen the signs early when he would get rough with me.
But I never expected the level of evil I had married. Joining a group of vile men to rape and murder? Behind my own bar?
Yea, that’s a fuckup I don’t ever want to repeat. I’ll happily remain single forever.
“Don’t look so sour, sweetheart. Have a drink with us, we’ll bring a smile to those pretty red lips.” The first one looks old enough to be my father.
His buddy looks likehisdad.
Ew.
“Gosh, wish I could.” It’s always easier to play them off. “But I’m not allowed to drink with the customers.” I’ll never tell them that I’m the owner and made up that rule for myself.
“Come on.” He leans forward conspiratorially. “Your boss won’t know about just one.”
“Maybe some other time.” I whisk myself away to take orders from a new group seating themselves near the pool tables.
Pushing into the kitchen, I hang up the slips and lean against the counter. “How’s it going?” I exhale hard, blowing a stray lock of maroon hair away from my eyes.
Sawyer pauses and pushes his baseball hat up. “Fine. I got the two pizzas cooking and the cheese sticks have—” He leans back far enough to glance at the wall. “—two more minutes.”
“Oh good, I have a chance to hide.” Reaching into the fridge, I grab a diet soda and twist off the top.
He blinks at me and glances towards the bar. Side stepping closer, his palms flatten on the counter and he leans in near enough I catch a scent of leather and fresh grass. “Is there someone out there getting ornery with you?” His voice is a deep rumble, but quiet enough it stays between us.
When did his nuts drop? He sounds like amanall of the sudden.
