“But what if it wasn’t just a short-term thing? What if the bar was struggling for a long time?”
“Don’t you think my dad would have done something? That he would have been scrambling to—” And then it dawns on me. The numerous times over the years when the bar would barely reach capacity on the weekend. The half-empty stockroom… “Oh, fucking hell. He didn’t care. This bar has never been about the money for him. It has always been his passion project, a gift he gave himself after his first client went platinum. And as long as the door remains open, he’s happy.” I let out a shaky breath, realizing just how much is on the line. “Oh god, Hollis. We’ve got to keep that bar open.”
“We will,” he says fiercely, pulling me into a tight hug. “Don’t worry.”
I melt into his arms. He smells like the woodsy soap he uses in the shower. My head rests against his chest, and he runs a hand through my hair.
Nothing about this is sexual. It’s comforting and sweet, so why do I want him to stop being gentle and kiss me?
The next time we kiss, it won’t be for show, Pres.
My throat goes dry, and I take a small step back.
Distance. I need distance.
“I think I’m ready to ask you for something,” I say, my voice slightly hoarse.
His eyebrow quirks. “Okay.”
“Will you look at the bar’s finances and help me figure out a way to save the bar?”
A tiny smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, Pres. I’d be honored.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
HOLLIS
Just as Brian, the general contractor, is finishing up with our tour around the club, Pres gets a text from her sister. She lets out a heavy sigh as she reads it.
“What is it?” I ask as I wave goodbye to everyone. “Did she cancel again?”
“Not exactly. She says she can’t get away, but has a short break in forty-five minutes if I want to meet her there.”
Mercury didn’t exactly know this lunch date included me. She just thinks Pres is doing the big sister thing and trying to catch up since they haven’t seen each other in a while.
“At the recording studio?”
She nods. “Honestly, this may be our best bet if we want to see her in the next month.” I snort, and she looks up with a tilted brow. “You think I’m joking, but I’m not. Outside of Sunday dinner, which she only makes time for because she knows Mom and Dad love it, she’s a hard woman to pin down.”
“Well, since you’re still adamant about telling her before Hendrix, I say we swing by. We can even grab some takeout and feed her before she has to get back to work.” I throw my armaround her shoulder, taking full advantage of the loophole that allows PDA in public.
God, her hair smells good.
“I doubt she’s even thought about food today. That’s actually a great idea.”
“See, I’m not just a pretty face.”
She laughs as we get to the Jeep and stop. She turns to look up at me and smiles. “No, you definitely aren’t.”
A wicked grin spreads across my face. “Did you just call me pretty?”
She scrunches her face and gives me an assessing gaze. “You’re all right, I guess.”
I take a step closer to the car to cage her in. “All right? I think you might be lying.”
Her eyes flash with anticipation. “Why would I lie?”
I take another step until our bodies are flush.
