He pulled back, grinning. “Deal.”
Richie peeked his head in the window. “A little help out here!”
Ashton patted my butt and then walked for the door, looking over his shoulder as he fixed me with a curious gaze. “Oh, Millie?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
“Later you’re gonna tell me who called and got you in a weird mood, right?”
I swallowed hard, unable to keep the panic from my face. “Right.”
Shit.
I could lie, say Julie and John broke up and then a week later say they were back together. But … this was our fresh start and I didn’t want to start a relationship on lies.
I’d tell him after we closed and pray he understood.
The next two hours passed in a blur. Ashton was sitting in a barstool relaxing behind the bar and popping beer tops while his cousins did the harder work. On my orders of course. We’d crowned the winner of the band battle and named the Cherry Pies our new house band. They were surprisingly good, and I’d heard a rumor that a talent scout had even shown up at some point in the night.
All the bands asked the same thing on their way out. “When can we play at this venue again?”
I took their info and told them we’d do an open mic night every Tuesday and Wednesday when the house band wasn’t playing.
“We’re going to need to hire more people,” I told Ashton, bleary eyed as I closed down the kitchen and Richie made last call. Staff was way too low and service too slow tonight for my liking, but no one seemed to mind.
I started to help Richie wipe down tables when I noticed the chalk wall we’d painted on the far end of the bar had writing all over it.
‘Best nachos in town.’
‘Holy Avocado toast Batman.’
‘I lost my virginity tonight.’
Whoa, what?
“We carded everyone, right?” I asked Ashton as I read the chalkboard.
He grinned and nodded. “My buddy worked security, whole night was legit.”
This thing was thrown together so last minute it wasn’t even funny.
There were only about twenty people left in the bar when the clock struck 3 a.m.
Benjamin, leader of the Cherry Pies, grabbed the mic. “Alright, y’all, you don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here.”
People booed, chugged their drinks and then started to walk out.
“Long Live Wayne’s Place!” A guy stumbled out with his fist raised in the air.
We all smiled and the band started to pack up. I finished wiping down the tables while Ashton did the bar top, and by the time we turned off the lights and got upstairs it was near 4 a.m. and my eyes were crossing.
I kicked off my shoes, faceplanted in Ashton’s bed, and didn’t bother brushing my teeth. Only when I felt the bed dip did I remember Ashton wanted to talk about the phone call. I peeled one eye open, praying against all odds that he was asleep next to me. He wasn’t. He sat fully clothed, looking down at me with a frown.
“You okay?” he asked.
My throat went dry, and I sighed, forcing myself to sit up. Taking a deep breath, I let it all out. “When you kicked me out of the hospital, I didn’t leave. I went downstairs and gave a sample with your Gran to be tested as a donor liver for your dad.”
His eyes went as wide as saucers but he didn’t say anything, so I continued.
