Chapter 1
Steph
The Lucky Tap is a madhouse tonight, which means I'm working both the bar and the floor. All of us are working double time.
I weave through the packed Friday night crowd with a tray of empties balanced on one hand, dodging elbows and wandering hands with the practiced ease of someone who's been doing this too long. A country song about whiskey and heartbreak, sung along to by half the bar, plays loudly on the jukebox, rattling my teeth. The air smells like beer, fried food, and too many competing colognes.
"Steph!" Belinda calls from across the room, her blonde ponytail swinging as she hoists her own tray overhead. "Table seven needs another round!"
I nod, depositing my empties behind the bar and reaching for clean glasses. My feet are already screaming, and we're only three hours into my shift. Five more to go.
Ainsley appears beside me, cheeks flushed and smiling in a way that makes my chest ache with something like envy. She'sbeen like this for weeks now—glowing, lighter, the happiness that comes from being stupidly in love.
"You good?" she asks, already pouring drafts with the efficiency of someone who could do this in her sleep.
"Define good," I mutter, but I'm smiling. "You?"
Her gaze flicks across the bar to where Troy is sitting with Kevin, and her smile goes softer. Sweeter. Troy catches her looking and winks, and she blushes.
Damn, they're disgusting. In the best possible way.
"I'm great," she says, and I believe her.
Troy leans over to say something to Kevin, who's nursing what looks like his first beer of the night. Kevin doesn't drink much when he's here—always staying sharp, always watching. Protecting, even when he's off duty.
Especially when he's off duty.
I feel his eyes on me before I look. It's been like this for months now, ever since that night. The night he showed up at my apartment in full uniform, all controlled authority and quiet rage, and got my ex-boyfriend Carl out of my life for good. Kevin's been checking on me ever since. Subtle. Steady. And always there when I need him, even when I don't ask.
I glance up, and sure enough, his gaze is already on me. Those dark eyes do a quick sweep—checking if I'm okay, if I need anything, if anyone's giving me trouble. It's become a routine between us. He watches. I pretend not to notice. We both act like it means nothing.
I give him a small nod that says I'm fine.
His jaw relaxes just slightly, and he nods back before Troy says something that pulls his attention away.
"You know he's crazy about you, right?" Ainsley says quietly, following my gaze.
Heat floods my cheeks. "We're friends."
"Friends don't look at each other like that."
"He's just... protective. It's what cops do."
Ainsley gives me a look that says she's not buying it, but she doesn't push. She knows better. She knows what I've been through, knows I'm not ready for anything that even resembles a relationship. Knows that the idea of letting someone that close again makes my chest tight with panic.
Kevin knows it too. Which is why he's kept his distance, even when I catch something heated in his gaze that has nothing to do with protection.
"Table seven!" Belinda calls again, more urgently this time.
I grab the beers and head into the fray.
The next hour passes in a blur of orders and refills and the constant navigation of bodies packed too close together. Archer, our new bouncer, stands near the door with his arms crossed, watching everything with the sharp-eyed focus of someone who's seen trouble and knows how to spot it coming. Simon hired him last month after one too many tourists thought it was okay to put their hands on the staff. Archer's presence has helped, but it hasn't stopped everyone.
Case in point: the guy at the end of the bar.
I noticed him earlier in the week. Mid-thirties, brown hair, expensive watch, a confidence that comes from never being told no. He's been in every night this week, always sitting in my section, always watching me with an intensity that makes my skin crawl.
He's asked me out four times. I've said no four times. Politely at first. Then firmly. Last night I told him flat-out I wasn't interested.
