But right now, the one person that truly knows me is Piper.
The other people that did…
They’re not here anymore.
And that has to be okay.
Alvin stands on his hind legs and stretches his paws on my nude-colored tights, and I unhook him before he can cause a tear.
With that small interaction, I’m back in the present and saying goodbye to Piper and Maeve, the latter looking sheepish after being chastised by my best friend.
I parked far enough away that neither of them can see me counting to myself in my car.
When I finally start the engine, I plant a smile on my face and wave to them as I drive past the building.
2
BLAIR
It’s crazy for a weeknight.
The dance floor is packed, the booths are full, and the bar is busy.
Unfortunately, a few bartenders called out, so it’s just Travis and me tonight.
I know my feet will be killing me by the end of the shift, but I also know that this means at leastdoublethe tips.
Thankfully, I’ve been at this long enough that every drink is memorized in my head, and I’m great at multitasking.
Despite the staff shortage, no one has complained about waiting, which I count as a personal victory.
“Behind you,” Travis’s low voice says at my ear as he moves past me while I refill the ice. I ignore the shiver that runs down my spine, chalking it up to being startled by his proximity.
We make a good team. He’s the one that trained me in all of this and was more patient than I expected him to be. His outward appearance can be disconcerting—he’shuge,coveredin tattoos, and rarely smiles, but he’s also kind and gentle. He listens to my stupid jokes when business is slow and asks me questions about the cat rescue.
His presence is calming, and I secretly look forward to the shifts we have together.
As he passes me, I catch a whiff of his scent, and my mouth waters.
Wood and smoke. Like a starry night, away from the rest of the world, with the only light coming from a campfire.
I clear my throat and swivel around, quickly pouring shots into each glass before topping them with whatever juice or soda is needed.
His tattoos are showing tonight, his muscled arms on display in his black t-shirt. I find myself looking at them more than necessary and want to ask questions about all of them.
A little bit of grey and blonde stubble shows on his cheeks and chin tonight, too. His dirty blond hair is cropped short, but just long enough that I could run my fingers through it if I really wanted to.
Not that I want to, though.
Travis is a work friend, and that’s it.
He’s a great coworker.
It’s only once the crowd dies down and we’re rinsing glasses that he has a full conversation with me.
“I saw a cat today,” he murmurs, and I feel his eyes on me as I wipe down the bar counter.
My ears perk up. “Oh, yeah? Where?”
