“You okay?” she asks, snapping her fingers once, teasing but gentle. “You’ve been staring at that receipt for five minutes, baby. It’s not gonna give you life advice.”
I let out a laugh, rubbing the back of my neck. “Sorry, sunshine. Got lost in my head.”
She smirks, setting the rag aside, and leans on the counter, her chin resting on her hand. “Must’ve been something deep. You had that faraway look going on again.”
I can’t help but grin. “You mean rugged and mysterious?”
“I mean brooding and distracted,” she fires back, her eyes glinting with mischief.
“Same thing,” I mutter.
She rolls her eyes and walks around the counter. “You’ve been thinking again,” she says softly, sliding between my knees where I’m sitting on the stool. “About Beau?”
I nod slowly, wrapping my hands around her waist. “Yeah. Him. Mama. All of it.”
Her hands come up, looping around my neck. “You miss them.”
“Every damn day.” My voice roughens, barely a whisper. “Some days it’s easier. Some days, I see his face in the flames again. Or I hear Mama’s laugh when I’m closing up. I just… wish they could see this. You. Us.”
Her eyes soften as she presses a kiss to my forehead. “I think they do, Reed.”
I shake my head, my throat tight. “I don’t know. I still ain’t sure I deserve any of this.”
She frowns and moves closer. “Don’t say that.” She gestures with her hands, tracing the scar that runs over my jaw. “You do. You more than do. You kept going. That’s what they’d be proud of.”
Her touch burns in the best way, anchoring me.
I hold her hand with mine, keeping it there. “I love you.”
She smirks, kissing me ever so softly. “I love you more.”
I tug her closer until there’s no space between us. “Not possible,” I murmur.
We stand there for a brief moment in the glow of the bar lights; her breathing steady, mine trying to keep up.
She tilts her head, smiling softly. “You always go quiet when you start thinking too hard.”
“Maybe I also like watching you work,” I tease, my thumb brushing her hip.
“Oh yeah?” she says, grinning. “Pretty sure you’ve been staring at the same stack of receipts since we opened.”
I chuckle, leaning forward so my forehead rests against hers. “Can you blame me?”
She laughs quietly, her breath ghosting over my lips. “You’re impossible.”
“Yeah,” I say softly. “But you’re the one who keeps showin’ up for it.”
Her eyes sparkle, and I swear the whole world slows down. “Guess I’m just a sucker for a man who makes good cocktails.”
“And locks up late,” I murmur softly, “so no one interrupts when I kiss you.”
Before she can respond, I tilt my head and kiss her, full of all the unspoken things I don’t know how to say out loud.
She melts into me, her hands sliding up my neck, gentle over the scars.
When she finally pulls back, she’s smiling, cheeks flushed. “Bar’s supposed to close at midnight, we’re on the clock.”
I grin, brushing my thumb along her jaw. “Then I guess we’re gettin’ some overtime.”
