Page 52 of Gin and Bear It

“No, he paid with cash and just got a drip coffee. He asked if you come in a lot or if I’ve seen you with Jada.” She frowns. “Do you know him? Is he a crazy fan?”

“Not sure.” I wrack my brain for anyone I know who might want to follow me. The legal bullshit doesn’t have to deal with me or my character, so they can’t be searching for dirt.

Yeah, it might be a crazy fan. We’ve had a handful over the years, but they usually went after Caro or Gordon. The ones who went after me were usually women I flirted with briefly, and usually there was a paper trail or some hint on social media that they were going to cross a boundary.

And he asked about Jada, anyway. I never showed her face or posted her name, though she posted me on her social media.

Even so, there are ways for people to figure things out. But something in my gut is telling me that’s not the case. The only other person who could possibly care about us being together is Jada’s family. Could her cousin be having us followed?

It sounds insane, but the more I think about it, the more it makes sense. Danika can’t just accuse us of being fake married to contest the will. She needs hard proof, and a private investigator can get it.

Shit.

“Do you need help? Is it a record label thing?” she asks, her voice low. “Is it a stalker fan? You can hang here if you want.”

“No, we’re good. It’s nothing. He probably just recognizes me but doesn’t know where he knows me from.” Another perk of being in the background of the band. “Thanks for this.”

“I would have given you the cousin discount.” She pokes the tablet a few times and turns it toward me.

“And I would have refused it.” I add tip, too.

I take my coffee and pastry to a seat near the window, just to keep an eye on who’s walking around, and grab my phone. Should I text Jada about the guy following me, or will that just stress her out? She’s already stressed enough, and this feels like something I should tell her in person.

I shift to my emails instead but can’t focus. Her cousin didn’t give off the impression of someone who’s firing on all cylinders, so I’m surprised she thought to hire a PI, assuming that’s what that man is. But it makes this way more complicated. We can’t just go about our regular lives separately, save for a few events here and there to establish ourselves.

We have to do normal married couple shit.

My main, relatively “normal” examples of what that might be are on two opposite ends of the spectrum—my parents, who seem compelled to be together even though they don’t seem to enjoy each other’s company, or Dylan’s parents, who are so sickeningly in love that going off of what they do would be an immediate red flag to most people who hadn’t actually met them.

My mind is racing through all the possibilities so quickly that my alarm to head to the bar startles me. I’ve hardly eaten my pastry and my coffee is long cold, but it’s too late to savor them now. I throw back the coffee and pastry, say bye to Sarah Jane, and walk to the bar.

Sarah Jane’s is at the edge of what’s considered downtown, not far from Jada’s, but the bar is right in the middle of it all. Tourist season is already in full swing, so I’m glad I didn’t try to find a parking spot that’s closer.

I haven’t stepped foot in the bar since Wes’s bachelor party a few years back. It doesn’t have a bad vibe, even though it’s a little touristy by nature of being owned by the family company. Wes’s pit bull mix Murphy lifts his head when I enter, barking once and wagging his tail.

“Shush, Murph,” Wes says from where he’s sitting at a table. Murphy barks again, but quieter. “Hey.”

“Hey.” I put my hand out and Murphy rushes me. The floor is wood and when he tries to slow down, he goes sliding across it, crashing into a stool. He recovers quickly and shakes it off, trotting up to me at a normal speed.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Wes says, standing.

He’s in jeans and a button-down shirt that look a bit more expensive than what he would have been wearing years ago. Tiny smile lines fan out around his eyes, too.

“What, did you think I’d bail? I need this job,” I say.

“No, I just never thought I’d be in a situation where I’m your boss.” He grins. Okay, he’s still Wes deep down. The little shit. “At least for a little while. JD said you’re doing the rounds with all the areas of the company?”

“Yep.”

“That’s pretty fair.” He says it without an ounce of surprise. Jada had mentioned he felt that way, but hearing it from his mouth feels jarring.

His relationship with JD used to be like mine was—always tense, but with the added bonus of JD being almost five years older than him. JD was always condescending and harsh on him, just like he was with me.

But Wes was always a lot more easygoing. He never seemed to take it too seriously, at least from my point of view.

Wes gives me a tour of the bar, showing me his tiny office space, the area where we receive deliveries, the place where we keep extras, and everything else I need to know. The POS system and clocking in is easy, as is the scheduling. Murphy follows us in areas where he’s allowed to go but lies down outside the areas where he can’t.

“Alright. You’ve made a cocktail before, right?” Wes says once we go behind the bar.