“Mind your own damn business, Sheriff,” Benny bites back.
Lunchtime at The Wandering Raven is busy. When there’s only one other restaurant in town, people are bound to find somewhere else to go. It’s a big reason why Griff and I extendedoperating hours when we took over. That, and Camden was asking for more shifts.
So now, during lunch, about half of our tables are full. Music drifts from the jukebox as Griff and I take turns waiting tables and bartending while Camden cooks in the kitchen. I don’t know how he does it all on his own back there, but he does, and he likes it.
Kaitlyn LeBlanc, Nicole Harlow, and Heather Davis all sit together at the four-top closest to the bar. They’re in here almost every day, tugging their low-cut shirts down and pushing their elbows together. Griff and I made a pact back in high school that we would never go there with any of them. And the fact that they’re all married now makes them a big “no go” zone.
Most of the hoity toity townsfolk who deem my brother and me murderers by association don’t bother to come here. Unfortunately, we don’t have a screening process for everyone else. My vote is still to kick out anyone who has ever looked down their nose at us, but Griff makes a good argument when he reminds me that would mean we won’t get much business. So, no matter how badly I want to punch Sheriff Clayton Jackson, he gets to stay…for now.
Filling Benny’s glass, I answer, “Actually, it’s his third. Are you volunteering to drive him home, Sheriff?”
Sheriff Jackson stammers, “What? I—Uhh?—”
“Heaven forbid you do your damn job for once,” I murmur under my breath.
Sheriff Jackson pounds his fist on the bar. “Excuse me? What was that, boy?”
Griffin is by my side, stepping in between us before I can respond. “Hey, Sheriff. I’m sure my brother didn’t mean anything by it.”
Griffin has always been the one to try and keep me out of trouble. We’ve gotten into our fair share of fights since Amos waslocked up. Griffin grew tired of always having to defend himself, so I’ve taken up that mantle. But he always steps in to diffuse the situation before shit can go down.
“Yeah, I’ll bet,” Sheriff replies with little conviction. “You tell Knox he needs to get his head on straight and remember who it was who stopped that group all those years ago from burning your house down.”
Sheriff Jackson goes back to his burger and fries while Griffin pushes me through the kitchen door. Camden ignores us as Griff gives me what he thinks is a stern talking to.
Griffin rests his hands on his hips. “Seriously, Knox? What the hell?”
“I don’t care. Acting like he was our savior when Frank and his buddies dragged us out of bed in the middle of the night, it’s bullshit. Jackson showed up after they had beaten us bloody. I still have the scars,” I bluster and point to my face.
That night wasn’t a pretty one. Before we were put in foster care, Frank decided he wanted to take the law into his own hands.
“He’s an ass. I know. But you can’t start a fight with the goddamn sheriff.” Griffin sighs, shaking his head. “Ignore him. He’s just pissy because we don’t let him go downstairs.”
Griff is right. We may not be selective about who comes into the bar, but we are very exclusive when it comes to downstairs. And although Sheriff Jackson can’t prove that our basement even exists, he’s always trying to get himself an invite.
“Fine,” I agree reluctantly.
Before I can get back to bartending, Griff stops me. “Oh, and I hired someone. She starts tonight.”
I whirl on him quickly. “What? And you didn’t tell me about it?”
“Relax, I vetted her.” Griffin makes a pacifying gesture with his hands.
Narrowing my eyes, I inquire further. “Vetted how?”
Griffin makes an annoyed face. “Not like that!” Then he smirks. “Yet.”
“No. No, no, no. We do not need a sexual harassment charge brought up against you. That’ll give Sheriff Jackson exactly what he wants.”
“I make no promises,” Griffin singsongs.
Sighing, I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Did you at least check her references or employment history?”
“Yeah, they’re there,” he says matter-of-factly.
“I mean, did you call them?”
“Why would I do that?”
