A smile I put there, which is a heady feeling.
Is that flirting?
Probably.
Flirting with someone I shouldn’t be?
Definitely.
If I’m not careful, I’ll be flirting with disaster.
CHAPTER
SEVEN
Collin
I double-check the front entrance is secured and flip off the lights as I make my way to the back of the bar. It’s just after nine, and thanks to an afternoon baseball game, everyone cleared out a little after eight, so closing down at nine was a piece of cake.
But it hasn’t been quiet.
Apparently, there’s been a herd of elephants moving in above this place because the amount of foot traffic on the back stairs and the heavy feet on the floor have echoed through the bar, despite having some classic country playing from the jukebox. But, oddly, the noise has been…settling. Probably because it reminds me of home, back when I was younger. Four kids all under one roof, and most of the time with friends in tow. To say it was chaotic every now and again is an understatement.
Grabbing the money bag with tonight’s drawer, I slip it in the safe in the small office and head for the back exit. I always go through the rear entrance because it’s closer than returning to the front door to leave. As I make sure the lock is secured and step outside, I smile when I realize quickly I’m not alone.
“Jeez, Way. Can you not pick it up and walk normal?”
“Fuck off, Duncan. I’m the one going backward down this ramp, and this couch is fucking heavy.”
I stop and smile, watching as two guys struggle to get a couch out of the back of a moving truck. “You know, if you take off the cushions, you’ll be able to grip it easier without having the extra fluff in your face.”
The two guys stop and practically drop the couch in a start. “Who the hell are you?”
“Collin. Bartender.”
“Ahh,” the taller of the two says, adjusting his hold on the couch and trying not to drop it.
“You could be a peach and help my brother. He’s apparently a wimp and can’t lift shit,” the slightly shorter one announces, earning him an eye roll.
“Fuck. Off. Duncan.”
The other brother just snorts a laugh as they carefully remove the couch from the truck and head toward me. Before I can reopen the door for them, it flies open and out comes Emberlyn. “I’ve aged three years while waiting on you dorks!”
I can’t help but laugh. Emberlyn reminds me of my own sister.
“You could help, Em,” one of the brothers hollers as they juggle the couch up the broken concrete steps.
I realize instantly they’re going to need some assistance getting this couch through the doorway and up the stairs. It’s a pretty big couch, with what looks like oversized cushions and a chaise lounge on the end. “Uhh, why didn’t you remove the lounge?” I ask, dropping my stuff on the ground and grabbing one of the corners.
“Because my stupid-ass brother didn’t think we needed to,” the brother I’m standing beside grumbles. “Notice whodidn’tgrab this end?”
With the lounge attached, we have to hold the back of the couch up higher to keep it from hitting every step as we ascend. It’s not easy, that’s for sure, but we make it work. Now, getting it through the apartment door takes some shimmying and pushing—and a little bit of cursing—but we manage that too.
“Why didn’t you take the chaise off?” one of Lizzie’s uncles asks as they watch us try to get the piece of furniture into the living room.
“Ask the dumbass,” the brother standing next to me states, sounding a little breathy.
“Hey, it worked, didn’t it?”
