Page 7 of The Perfect Heart

But Nash didn’t move for a heartbeat, his eyes on me before he shook his head, a move so slight I almost didn’t see it, and disappeared around the corner to his office.

I looked around the bar and took a deep, steadying breath. Ready or not, it was time to get to work.

Chapter 4

Nash

THERE WAS SOMETHING that I loved about the quiet after last call, after the final customer had stumbled out and I had locked the door. After the day’s rush and the evening’s raucous activity, the Tipsy Tiki was tranquil, the TVs off, the lights and music turned low as we worked our way through closing duties.

By the time the clock struck one, almost all my employees had gone home for the night, except for Halle and me. In fact, I had been tying up a few things in the office and had been surprised to walk out and see my old friend still swiping a rag across the bar.

Hoping I wasn’t being too creepy, I leaned against the open doorframe between the back and front of the house and watched her for a moment.

There was still a surreal element to having Halle here, back in my life. Since middle school, we had been each other’s comfort and confidant, partners in crime and everything else, from football games to school dances to hanging out in a small town when there wasn’t much to do.

Halle had been in my life, and then she was gone. But now she was suddenly back. It was enough to give me whiplash.

And yet, there she was, wiping down the counter of my bar, her first shift at the Tipsy Tiki over. And she had done well, too. Not that I’d had any doubt.

Okay, so I’d had a little bit of doubt.

The Halle I remembered had been bright, boisterous, and funny with a wicked sense of humor. She had been full of life and dreams, her eye on the future far from anything this little town could give her, as with many of the friends we had graduated with.

The Halle here now was subdued and watchful, her smile slower to appear. For a time this morning, as Joseph and I had shown her the ropes, I’d had a thought that she wasn’t up for a job that required an enormous amount of interaction with people, most of them strangers. Then the first customers had streamed in looking for a warm meal, a drink, and time out of the cold, and Halle had seemed to turn on whatever spigot needed to flow.

I had, of course, checked on her throughout the day, making sure she was holding up all right. But I had seen my answer in the brightness of her smile, in her friendly banter with locals and tourists alike, in the way she had barely stopped to eat.

And now, too, she seemed happier, brighter than she had been when she walked in this morning. Maybe it was the healthier flush of color to her cheeks or that she was humming along to the low music as she slowly, methodically polished her way across the long bar counter.

“You know, you don’t have to do that. We only buff the counter once a month, and I think Joseph did it a couple of weeks ago.”

The humming came to an abrupt stop as Halle’s head snapped toward me. The look of quiet contentment had evaporated instantly, her shoulders tensing, fear echoing in her eyes until she realized it was me. But her shoulders still rose and fell rapidly.

Holding my hands up, I slowly approached as though she was a skittish deer. “Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” Her words said one thing, her actions another—she dropped the rag and put a hand to her chest, looking away from me as she collected herself. When she looked up again, she offered a smile that lacked warmth and didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You just startled me. That’s all.”

Startling was one thing. Halle’s reaction had been something different.

“Okay, well—” I ran a hand over the curls on my head, “I didn’t even realize you were still here. Was closing up okay?”

Her smile grew more genuine. “Oh, yeah, no problems. Joseph showed me what to do, and I think I got everything. He mentioned the bar and that you only do it once a month, but, well, it’s my first day on the job. Figured I might as well go the extra mile.”

Laughing as she grinned and shrugged, I joined her behind the bar to double check everything was done before I locked up for the night. “You know you don’t have to do that here, right? You don’t have anything to prove to me.”

“Maybe not to you, but I don’t think all your employees are thrilled I’m here. Did you tell them I’d never worked at a bar before?”

I had leaned over to check the garnishes in the small fridge under the sink when her words caught me, and I nearly slammed my head on the underside of the counter standing up. “Which employees?”

Halle backed a step from me, and I wondered if I had snapped the question too intensely.

“Which employees?” I asked again, this time with less force. But I wanted to know what was behind the seemingly random question—you didn’t ask something like that without a story behind it.

“Well—” Halle hesitated.

Did she regret telling me? Was she wondering if the employees would get into trouble?

“I just want to know, Halle. Part of my job as the bar owner is to make sure employees are getting along. Otherwise, we won’t have a great work situation here.”