“It’s a damn shame.”
I only nod. No one else is as bothered as me, but then I lost two people I’m close to. Maybe I’m looking for explanations where there are none.
The bar is filled with people, and Molly is spinning in different directions, filling mugs and clearing away empties. As I walk by the large group of ten, I get flagged down. More orders. I need to write them down, or I’ll forget my list. Another couple enters. The man is an old ranching buddy of Ransom’s, and he steps over to pull me into a big hug.
“A damn shame, Meredith,” he says.
“Thanks,” I manage with my mouth smashed against his shoulder, but he smells like sunshine and fresh-cut grass. Just like Ransom. “Getting the same thing tonight?” I ask before I dissolve into a public bout of tears.
He releases me, and I stumble back. “Absolutely. Drinking one down for Ram.”
Just for Ram? Nobody ever seems to remember Holly…
I force a smile and rush to the bar. As I’m filling one of the road crew’s mugs, a wave of citrus-and-cedar heat washes over me. Warmth winds its way down my body, nestling between my thighs as my nipples wake up.Crap.I should’ve worn my padded bra today.
“What else?”
That deep rumble of his glides over my skin, and my brain quits working. My body very much reacts, and against all my good judgment, my underwear grows damp.
“What?” I ask in a mix of breathlessness and crankiness. He should’ve stayed at the table with Bea.
“What other orders are there?”
I release the tap. He’s propped one hand on the counter and is resting the other on his waist. His five-o’clock shadow is at ten o’clock, and my fingers twitch to trail over his chin. How rough is his stubble, and would it mark the most sensitive of skin?
Someday, I’ll learn to draw a line between appreciating good looks and not craving the poison that accompanies them. Tonight is not that night.
“A lot. Why?”
“I can fill some.”
He wants to work? Did I step into another dimension between Ben’s table and the bar?
“You don’t know anything about working here. Not the prices, or where everything’s at, or…or…” There has to be another reason he can’t help. I don’t have time to train someone who isn’t willing to listen to me.
“I was buried in data for hours today.” He points to each beer on tap and rattles off the prices, quotes the flight cost, and lists the various options. Looking smug, his mouth curls into a half-smile. “The rest hasn’t changed much.”
It’s changed a lot. It’s unrecognizable. It must be, because if Calder Cross can just jump in after twenty years, then what the hell am I doing with my life?
“We have credit card machines and iPads.”
“It’ll take me two minutes to figure those out. How about I get Hank and Stella’s order?”
Ram’s friends. “They want to drink to your dad.”
“Okay.”
“Not my sister.” I chew the inside of my cheek and turn away.
“What’s their order?” he asks more gently than I could’ve imagined possible for him.
“A short Razzy and a tall Angus.”
With a curt nod, he digs a cold mug out of the cooler and gets to work.
Molly spins around, casting a wide-eyed, questioning look in my direction. I can only shrug and finish the road crew’s order.
The night flies by in a flash. I keep an eye on Calder—purely for professional reasons. I can’t have him scaring off customers just because he might be the new owner of the place. When he delivers Hank and Stella’s drinks, he receives a hearty handshake, chats for several minutes, and then dives back into filling orders.
