Page 18 of Icy Pour

The corners of his mouth tip up as pink flushes across his cheeks.

Goddammit, why does that get me worked up?

“Yeah. I, uh…maybe. Shit, this is all…it’s all new.”

I lean in to kiss him—it’s quick, soft, gentle, calming. He thinks he’s hiding the slight shake of his hands, but I see it. I don’t think I could miss a single twitch of his body at this point. “Listen…we got a bar to get prepped this morning, yeah?” My hands settle on his shoulders as he nods in agreement. “Okay then. Let’s get to it. Besides, you know what the best part about Sunday is?”

His brow furrows. “What’s that?”

“Boss closes the bar at 8pm, and he’s closed on Monday. So…if the offer still stands…I can stay over tonight.”

He smiles as he steps back and unties the twine from around the liquor bottle before handing me the key. “Since I gave you this, I guess there’s no taking back the offer now.”

I smirk as I work the token around my keyring. “I guess not, boss.”

CHAPTER 12

WALT

“Night, Bethany!” I call to our last customer, our first regular customer, as she leaves the bar for the third night in a row. “Get home safe and get yourself a good divorce lawyer.”

“Thanks, Walt! I’m gonna call that James & James law office in the morning. I hear they’re the best in town.” She throws a wave over her shoulder, her head held high as she walks down the sidewalk. Part of me wants to keep her chatting as my stomach clenches tighter than a bar towel being wrung out in the sink.

If she doesn’t leave, we won’t be here alone. But also, god, do I want to be alone with him.

I peek over my shoulder, watching him saunter off toward the backroom. What if I don’t know what I’m doing? What if I’m not what he’s expecting? What if he decides he doesn’t want me?

I pause, staring at the lock. Turning this means facing everything I’ve been afraid of. It means turning a small risk into a big one. I hesitate, my fingers ready as sweat already beads on my forehead. Can I really do this?

“Bethany finally head out?” The smooth, steady voice reverberates as he returns, the sound washing over me like the breeze off the lake in the summer, and with one swift motion, I twist the lock.

I can do this.

“Yeah.” I glance to the bar where Johnny’s wiping down, noticing the way his muscles flex as he runs the cloth across the wooden surface. The way his brows are low across his face, so intently focused on making everything as good as new for the morning.

I wonder if he could do those same things to me.

Every step toward the bar serves as a reminder of the decision I made. The decision I needed to make, a decision that feels right, but I’m still so damn scared. Then I remember the feeling I get when I kiss him, and I feel like he could help me not be so scared.

“Well, boss, another hell of a day.”

“Yeah.”

“You want me to sweep up tonight? Usually you’re half done by now.”

“No.”

He drops the towel as he turns to face me. “That’s a lot of one-word answers. Everything okay?”

“Yep.”

He cocks his head with a smirk. “Alright then, out with it.”

My breath catches. “Out with what?”

“Whatever’s on your mind. Every night you pick up the broom, sweep the floor, then come back here and close out the register. Now you’re being plain weird, dragging your feet, staring at me and giving me one-word answers. So,”—he leans against the bar—“what’s on your mind?”

I swallow hard. “I don’t want to clean up the bar right now.”