Not that I was doing better before my mom passed. Considering all the hours I pulled at the firm, I was practically nocturnal. Ever since I could remember, I’d always dreamed of moving to Manhattan and becoming a sought-after lawyer. Right now, my office sign said paralegal, but I was gaining theexperience I’d need for law school. My apartment might be the size of a shoebox, but at least I could say I was actually living in New York City.
I made it out of Erie City, my hometown. That had to count for something, even if it always seemed like I was drowning. Between my steep rent and the mounting debt from my undergraduate program—not to mention the inevitable bills law school would accrue—I was making just enough to scrape by. Eventually, I hoped to be able to do more, to live an adventurous life. But that required making the jump from paralegal to attorney. So, most nights, after working from sunup to sundown, I’d go home and study for hours.
Sleep was a luxury Iliterallycould not afford.
With a sigh, I tossed my study materials back into my bag and attempted to tame my wavy mess of hair. That was a problem for another day.
Working at the Skyline Lounge might only be only for tonight, but I had to admit—I liked it. The constant pounding bass of the dance music drowned out my intrusive thoughts. People’s inhibitions came free when they escaped under the pulsing strobe lights, and it fascinated me. For a few hours, I left my lonely world filled with textbooks and facts and just…existed. No grief, no studying, no demands other than a fake smile and another round of drinks. It wasn’t an easy job, don’t get me wrong, but it allowed me to shut down the part of my brain that loved to remind me of everything I’d lost—for a few hours, at least.
As I shoved the last of my errant locks into my hairband, Mark, Chelsea’s husband, walked into the room. He ran his hand over his bald head, staring at me as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. “Hey, I need a favor. Think you could help upstairs tonight?”
I froze, peeking behind me to make sure he wasn’t talking to someone else. “Me?”
“Please, Kins. I need someone to cover the VIP bar. Our usuals, Lara and Paulo, both have the flu, and Chelsea’s needed to keep everything running smoothly downstairs.” He stared at me, almost wincing. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t an emergency.”
God, I wanted to say no. I’d never stepped upstairs into the VIP area. Even as Chelsea’s best friend, I didn’t have enough clout to sit in that section. They always reserved the secluded area for our hometown heroes—namely, one of the major league sports teams. Erie City might not be the biggest in New York, but, over the past decade, it had become home to two different professional teams: the Sparks, for football, and the Hawks, for baseball.
With the Hawks playing tonight, there was a good chance some players would head our way. I swallowed, trying to ignore the pit in my stomach. Sure, I’d seen plenty of the guys walking through the bar, but it was different to serve them. A cold sweat broke out on my palms, but I squeezed them together. I couldn’t let Chelsea or Mark down.
“I can handle it.”
Mark took a step closer and then paused, his lips pursing, deep in thought, most likely listing off the names of any other bartender who might come in to cover upstairs. While Chelsea and I had been friends forever, Mark and I had a bit of a frostier relationship. Probably because his wife was my soulmate, and I had no interest in sharing that title with him. So, he surprised me when he said, “Thank you, Kinsley. Means a lot to Chelsea that you’re here. Means a lot to me too.”
“Yeah, of course.” I nodded. “I’ll be up there right away.”
Without another word, Mark stomped out of the room, off to make sure Chelsea had everything covered. As I watched his back retreat into the bar, I steeled my shoulders and took onelast look in the mirror. Shit, I should have taken Chelsea up on her makeup. Too late now.
“Don’t fuck it up,” I whispered to myself. “How hard could that be?”
TWO
As it turned out—reallyfucking hard.
The first hour had been fine; barely anyone bothered to come up here while the sun was still out, which gave me time to get myself together. I’d tended bar plenty of times in the past, but the Skyline was a lot different from the college bar I’d worked at before. My former bar only had broken stools and peeling paint, a stark difference from the high-end fixtures here. From the rich, dark amber of the top-shelf whiskeys to the hefty crystal glasses stacked behind the bar, Mark and Chelsea spared no expense in this section. I stared out into the luxury booths lining the back wall until a voice startled me.
“Hey, are you new?”
My face flushed as I shook my head. “Not really. I’m just helping Mark and Chelsea for the night.”
I turned and took in the other bartender who’d joined me. He had dark tan skin and stood much taller than me, and that was saying something, because I wasn’t short. His dark hair was shaved on the sides, leaving room for small lines that turned into an asymmetric design. He held out his hand to me. “Cade. Nice to meet you.”
“Kinsley,” I smiled.
Cade’s eyes stayed on me for a second longer than polite, and I tried not to squirm under his attention. It was ridiculous. Once the bar got busy, I’d have no problem playing the part, laughing and flirty with customers as I filled their glasses. But that was all it was—an act. It had been a long time since anyone interested me enough to take things any further.
Cade was handsome. That was a universal fact. From his powerful jaw to his captivating smile, he had features that would draw anyone in. At least, anyone whose internal attraction meter wasn’t stuck at zero. Maybe in another life, where grief and constant stress didn’t consume all my thoughts, I would have smiled back, hoping for a spark between us.
But right now? There was nothing.
“So,” I cleared my throat as I stepped away, “when does it get busy up here?”
“Wednesdays can be hit or miss, but we usually get a rush around nine,” he said as he started putting away the glasses I’d washed earlier. “Might be a little later, because the Hawks are ending a series tonight. Some players stop in after their games.”
“What are they like?”
Cade paused for a moment as he continued to wipe down the glasses, staring out at the railing that divided us from the crowd below. “Most of them are good guys, just looking to relax after the game and hang out with each other.” He grimaced. “Except for Jace Lyons. He’s a fucking mess, so keep an eye out for him. Cut him off a couple of weeks ago, and he almost decked me.”
I shook my head. “What the hell is wrong with people?”
