CHAPTER
ONE
Elle
Jonathon Jackson quickened his pace, desperate to get to the love of his life. His feelings gripped him, almost magnetic in how they pulled him toward Fern. His pulse raced like a river, his heart thumping a deep vibration with each beat. She must say yes to his proposal, or he’d forget his purpose.
“Eleanor Van Helsing?”
I shut my laptop way too fast, hitting the tip of my finger as the voice startled me. My finger stung, and I hid my wince, forcing a smile as I glanced up to see Charlie Miller on the other side of the bar top.
“Elle, hi, yes. This is me.” I hated the immediate flush of embarrassment at getting caught up in the moment. It happened whenever I read or worked on my secret novel. I forgot where I was, what I was doing, and escaped. My family joked about my daydream situation, and while theymeantwell, it tended to minimize what I wanted: to live in my writing. My face burned, but I masked it as quickly as I could. “No one calls me Eleanor unless I’m in trouble.”
“Noted.” The large, beefy man placed the flats of his palms on the wooden bar. “Welcome. I’m the owner.”
“Nice to meet you officially.” I held out a hand and shook his. He had a firm grip and didn’t have sweaty palms, thank god. Sweaty palms were the worst. “Thanks for taking my resume—I really need a job.”
“Don’t we all, sweetheart.” He rocked back on his heels before pulling a sheet of paper from under a stack of pens. “You’ve waitressed for five years?”
“Sure have. Also helped behind the bar on busy nights. I have the bestcustomer is always rightface. Try me.”
His lips twitched, and he ran a hand through his extremely long beard. I imagined he lived in the woods, in a log cabin and wore plaid a lot. Definitely chopped his own firewood and had at least four tattoos. Totally used beard oil too.
“Good to know,” he said, pulling me from my momentary blip of creating an entire backstory for him.
I smiled, leaned onto my elbows, and tilted my head to the side. “I’ll be here whatever hours you have available. Do any side work. Cleaning toilets doesn’t faze me.”
“You able to stay until close on weekends?”
“Yes. I live less than two minutes away.” Hope sprung alive like flowers after a storm.Please, please, please.I wanted the money, and I knew I’d make good tips here. I refused to admit to myperfectbrother or my parents that I needed help. I’d work twenty-four seven if it meant I was on my own. It was close to campus, one of those hole-in-the-wall bars that alumni always came back to. Hockey posters covered the wall. I avoideda certain someone’sposter because ugh, what a disappointment, but the vibes were what I wanted. Busy, chill, and safe.
Charlie squinted at my resume, his bushy brown eyebrows hiding his expression. I desperately wanted to know what theholdup was. I had experience, could handle myself, and would work my ass off.
I mean, I had no choice. This was the deal with my parents—I did community college for two years, then I could transfer. They’d pay for tuition, but all living expenses were up to me. They valued education but thought it was silly to not live at home for free…and they didn’t love the fact I wanted to be a writer. With both of my parents still paying off student loans, they refused to let my brother and I get them.
Of course, Gabe received a scholarship, so that bitch was here all four years, living my dream.
Charlie’s hand was covered in tattoos—I freaking knew it—and he ran it through his hair, gray spotting both temples. He had to be mid-forties, around there. Chubby but cuddly. I could picture him with twin daughters driving him wild at home.
Focus. Get the job.
“Sir—”
“Oi, none of that sir shit. That’ll get you fired immediately.” He guffawed, putting his hands in the air and shaking his head so much his beard wiggled. “Charlie. Chuck. Those are the only two names I answer to.”
Excitement shot through me like a firework. “Wait,firedimplies I’mhired.”
“Well, yeah.” He scrunched his face like I was absolute bonkers for suggesting I wasn’t given a job. “Alex and Tina hold the bar down, but Tina’s having a baby and will be out. That’ll leave me and Alex, and I’m getting too old for the weekend shifts.”
I made a fist, punching it into the air like the ending of The Breakfast Club. Gabe made me watch it last weekend, and not only had the music stuck with me, but John Hughes’ storytelling captivated me. How he nailed teenage experience… I wanted to study his screenplays to make myself a better writer. Hell, Ihoped I had an assignment this fall that required a deep study of a writer.
“Score!” I slapped the bar top, making my laptop almost fall off. I caught it and beamed at Charlie, my new boss. “When do I start? What’s the dress code? What are the hours?”
“Alright, you’re a little hyper, but this place could benefit from it. With Callie-boy always here moping around and Tina bitching about her pain… plus, Alex is… well, they’re broody. Has a wonderful sick sense of humor. Yeah, we could use your energy.”
“Honestly, hyper is one of my good qualities.”
Charlie studied me for a bit, shaking his head and laughing. “I admire your confidence.”
