TWENTY-TWO
Lizzie
The place is packed, and I’ve never felt a deeper sense of pride than I do right now.
I did this.
All my hard work over the last few months—hell, years—has paid off.
“If we’re not careful, the fire marshal is gonna show up,” Collin hollers over the music as he pours two draft beers.
“Yeah, but I’m not sure there’s anything I can do about it now,” I state, worrying my lip between my teeth.
Collin gives me a soft smile, one that barely touches his lips. But I see it in his eyes, so that’s how I know it’s there. “If he shows up, let me talk to him. I’ve known Troy for years. Volunteered on the department for a few years after I got out of the Air Force.”
I nod, though I’m certain he’s going to want to deal with me as the property owner. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” I say over the noise.
Cade walks behind us, carrying two cases of beer to restock, singing along with the band. I crack a smile, mostly becausehe’s been doing that since the moment the band started playing, and also because he’s so different than his twin, who has barely tapped his foot along with the beat once or twice.
Thank God for Cade. Earlier this week, I went to Collin and asked what he thought about hiring one of his siblings to work tonight for cash. I realized we could potentially need help with restocking coolers, picking up empties around the tables, and making sure the trash is taken out when it starts to get full. Jani has her son this evening and really didn’t want to work, and Guy worked the afternoon for me. Knowing his brother as well as he does, Collin knew Cade would be more than willing to work, and when asked, he agreed readily.
Now, he’s saving our asses, since both Collin and I have been so damn busy refilling drinks we never would have had time to do what is needed. I haven’t even had time to pee, let alone take a drink of water.
Collin uses what’s left in a bottle of rum and glances at the shelf. “Hey, Cade, can you grab two bottles of Bacardi and anything else we may be low on?” He tosses his twin the lanyard of keys, which has everything for the bar, including one for the dry storage room where the liquor is kept.
“On it,” Cade hollers between lines of a Billy Ray Cyrus song. Gathering up the empty boxes he just tore down, he turns to me and says, “When I get back, I’ll watch the bar. You take a quick break.”
“I’m good,” I reply, even though I really have to pee.
He snorts. “You look like your eyeballs are floating.”
I turn and make a face. “How in the world would you know that?”
He just gives me that knowing, cocky grin. “You’ve been extra squirmy, and Charli gets like that when we’re four-wheeling and she has to pee.”
I chuckle and shake my head. “Fine. Two minutes.”
He glances at the liquor counter behind the bar and makes a mental list of a few things we’re low on before digging for the right key and taking off for the storage room.
“Take longer than two minutes, Lizzie,” Collin says gently, his body practically pressed behind mine. To the naked eye, it would look like two coworkers moving around each other to work, but to me, it’s much more. I can feel the heat of his body, feel the pulse of his energy. His warm breath tickles my neck, and all I want to do is stop, cock my head to the side just a bit, and feel the brush of his lips against me.
That won’t happen, of course—at least not down here. We’ve managed to maintain a very professional working relationship while at the bar, and tonight is no exception. His touches have been brief and warranted but have packed a punch to my libido, nonetheless.
“You should go first,” I reply, grabbing two beers from the cooler.
“Nope, ladies first. Always.” He turns and gives me a look that indicates he’s not necessarily referring to the use of the restroom. He’s big on making sure I get off first, or at the very least with him, before he takes his own release. “Stop that.” His breath is hot against my ear, his hand brushes against my side.
“Stop what?” I ask, holding his gaze.
His lips curl up in a smirk. “You know what. I can practically read your thoughts, and they’re dirty.”
I feel my cheeks blush hot, but Cade returns with the bottles of liquor, breaking the mounting sexual tension behind the bar.
“All right, take a break. I’ve got this,” he states, clapping his hands together and smiling widely. To his brother, he asks, “You ready to make some money? Magic Cade is here.”
“Oh God,” I groan, sharking my head. “The shirt and pants stay on!”
He barks out a laugh. “I make no promises, Lizzie Lou. I give my fans what they want.”
