“To new friends,” they echoed.
The place filled up while they ate and drank and talked. It was so easy with these women. People came in off the street, bringing the chill with them but laughter, too, and the space quickly crowded. After a bit, the lights dimmed, the music and voices got louder, and the energy shifted. When the man came to remove their plates, George asked, “What’s happening tonight?”
“Dancing.”
“That might be a bit more than we can handle for tonight.” George’s eyes slid to Abby. “You mentioned someone leaving you in the lurch. Are you looking for waitstaff?”
“Indeed I am.”
Abby piped up before she’d fully considered what it would mean to work in a place like this. “I’m looking for a job.”
“Yeah? Got any experience?”
“No, sir.” She looked him straight in the eye, deciding not to be afraid. “But I’m good with people.”
“Hm. You know anything about cocktails?”
“No.”
“You drink wine.”
“It’s my third time.”
Although his face was in partial shadow, his smile shone big and brassy.
With a chuckle, he reached down a hand. “You’re hired.”
“What? I…I’m not sure wh—”
“Just say thank you”—he wiggled his fingers—“and shake my hand.”
She reached out and let him take her hand in his grip, expecting to feel something from his touch—excitement like when her skin had touched Luc’s, or tenderness or desire.
But no. Nothing. The second man to shake her hand in her entire life, and she felt nothing more than the pleasant warmth of human contact.
What had Luc done to her?
“My waitress quit on me, and I’ve been buggered ever since. Luckily, the punters don’t come ’round as much after the holidays, which gave me a bit of a respite, but still. Look at this crowd. Just turned February—love is in the air. And it’s almost the weekend, which means there’ll be a good dose of lust, at the least.” Jessie made a loud huffing sound, quickly smothered, and Rory’s eyes narrowed on her before returning to Abby. “When can you start? Tomorrow?”
Tomorrow. Abby’s body hummed with the possibility. She’d find a way to get back to the mountain. She’d walk if she had to. “I don’t have a car or a place to stay that’s—”
“Still got the apartment upstairs?” Jessie cut in, and everyone turned to look at her.
Rory’s face broke into a long, slow, syrupy smile, and there was something different in his voice when he focused on Jessie. “Matter of fact, I do. Remember it, do you?”
When nobody responded, he looked at Abby. “It’s nothing fancy, but I’d be happy to give it to you.”
The Church would never find her here. A den of sin like this. She could hide in plain sight. Heavens, she could get Sammy out tomorrow. Not wanting to seem too eager or ungrateful, she glanced at George before focusing back on Rory. “How much is the rent?” She swallowed hard.
His expression was interested as he took her in—or curious, maybe. “For you, darling, nothing.”
“Oh, I couldn’t do that. I’m—”
“She’ll take it,” Jessie said, chin up, face obstinate as she looked Rory head-on for the first time. “He may seem like an ass, but you’ll be safe with Rory. He’s only an asshole to me. Besides, he owes me for all the grief he’s given me over the years.”
He narrowed his eyes and smiled hard before turning back to Abby. “You can bring your things tomorrow.”
“Thank you, sir.” It was a relief, suddenly, to feel like she wouldn’t be a burden to George and Clay. Besides, Rory wouldn’t care where she went when she wasn’t working. Being here would make getting Sammy a cinch. She thought of the walk to the mountain and then the return trip, with Sammy in tow, and amended that. It would be a trial, but one she was up to.
