“To be fair, I’ve never actually seen you or Mrs. O’Malley using a laptop. Or a computer, for that matter.”
It was true. They liked to live as if we were still in the 1950s and probably wouldn’t even have cell phones if I hadn’t gone away to college. Never mind how long it took them to learn to video call me in France.
“As a matter of fact,” my dad said, looking sheepish now, “we’re going shopping for one today.”
“I knew it. Country bumpkin my…” Smartly, I stopped before finishing that sentence.
“Speaking of.” Dad looked at his watch. “I’m picking your mom up from the hairdressers soon. Do you need a ride back?”
“Could you use an extra hand today?” I asked Beck, to which he grinned.
“You’re the manager. You tell me.”
My dad stood, chuckling. “Wish I could stay for the fireworks, but duty calls.” He kissed me on the cheek. “Take it easy on him, will you?”
“No chance,” I said as Dad walked away. I watched him, noticing how he glanced around at the bar. It must be strange, to give your entire life to a place and have to walk away from it. Part of me felt guilty for not keeping it in the family, taking it over. But O’Malley’s was his dream, not mine. With luck, Beck would buy it and keep things mostly the same.
Speaking of Beck, he was looking at me strangely.
“What?”
“We have a lot to discuss,” he said, in a rare moment of seriousness.
“Yes,” I agreed. “We do.”
9
BECK
My life was a living hell.
Nearly two weeks of working side by side with Mae, and nothing was right anymore. I watched her weave effortlessly through tables, wing night notoriously busy, as if she’d been waitressing her whole life. When Jenn called off, Mae stepped right in. No job was below her, despite her crack about chicken fingers. In fact, she was one of the least pretentious people I knew, and I knew a lot of them courtesy of my parents.
“He’s not even looking at them,” Parker cracked, referencing the fact that there was a pair of good-looking women sitting across from him that I had barely talked to. He and Delaney were sitting at the bar with their usual—one order of hot wings and one of boneless honey mustard. That comment was one of the many reasons everything felt topsy turvy.
“Zip it,” I said with half a mind not to refill Parker’s beer.
“I noticed.” Delaney offered me her most innocent smile.
“He’s a bad influence on you,” I said, grabbing Parker’s empty glass. “You used to be nice.”
“I’m still nice,” she said as a familiar face came up to the bar.
“Hey, Jules.”
“Sup, Beck? Anyone sitting here?” she asked Delaney.
“All yours. Mae said you might be stopping by so I saved it for you.”
I pulled the tap, only glancing over at the two tourist women, one who hadn’t stopped staring at me since she sat down. Unfortunately, that brief glance was enough to have her raising a hand at me. Two weeks ago, I’d have sauntered over there gladly. Now, handing Parker his beer, I made my way over but watched Mae instead. She already thought I was an incurable flirt—which was mostly true. The last thing I needed was to cement Mae’s bad opinion of me.
“Need a refill?” I asked blandly.
“Yes, please.” Her full-tooth grin revealed pearly whites as perfect as the rest of her. Too perfect, in fact, as if she put in way too much effort. Unlike Mae, who woke up looking like a ray of sunshine.
Ray of sunshine. I did smile, then, thinking of what the guys would do if I’d said such a thing out loud. They’d fall off their barstools laughing.
Giving the ladies their drinks, I wasn’t surprised when one of them made her move.
