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Chapter One
Dale
A woman walks into a bar.
She’s tall and curvy with beautiful hair that falls in ringlets. Her heels click as she walks across the wooden floor and makes her way toward the counter in the back. She doesn’t belong in a place like this. Not her.
A lot of women walk through those doors, but none of them even comes close to comparing to the beauty making her way through the dive. She’s much too good for a place like this. She’s much too good for a guy like me.
She smiles when she reaches the counter. I set down the glass I’m cleaning and look her up and down. She’s classy: not trashy. If you’re going to be hanging out at a place like Chasing Whiskey, you have to be at least a little trashy.
Maybe she’s here to ask for directions.
“Can I help you?” I ask her. She’s not here for a drink. I don’t just think this because it’s five and we just opened. Nope. I think she’s here for something else because this is a woman who looks determined and fierce. I don’t see many women like that in here.
Most of the girls who come into the bar are looking for something that will satisfy them for a few hours or maybe even an entire night. They aren’t looking for love, for romance, for satisfaction. They’re just look for something to distract them from their lives.
“I’m looking for the manager,” she says, glancing around the room. She’s not nervous. This isn’t some sort of anxious habit where she can’t make eye contact. No, this woman is something else entirely. She almost looks like she’s casing the joint. Is she looking for exits? Trying to figure out how many people are here lurking in corners? She’s covering all of her bases.
Maybe she’s not here to rob me. Maybe it’s something else. If she’s not here to try to take advantage of me, I’d guess she’s suffered some sort of abuse or trauma, and probably very recently. Only people who have been through hell are concerned about things like where the fire exits are.
“You found him,” I tell her. She’s got my full attention now.
“You’re the manager?” She confirms, and now she’s looking at me. She doesn’t stay focused on my face, though. Her eyes roam my body, but not in a lustful way. She’s not trying to figure out how she can seduce me. No, this woman wants to figure out what makes me tick. What’s going to increase her chances of getting what she wants with me? What’s she going to have to do to convince me?
“Dale Brennan,” I hold out my hand to her. She takes it and shakes it firmly.
“Oriana Smith,” she says.
“Nice to meet you, Oriana Smith.”
“Likewise.”
“What can I do for you, darling?”
“Darling?”
“It’s an endearment. I’m not hitting on you.”
She smiles. “Sorry, I guess I’m not used to how friendly everyone is here.”
“At Chasing Whiskey?”
“Just in Kansas. I just moved here,” she tells me. She stands up a little straighter. “I’m looking for a job. Waitressing, bartending, cleaning: I’ve done it all. Do you have any openings at the moment?”
She wants to work here?
Now that’s not something I saw coming, although I suppose it makes sense. Oriana is dressed well. She looks professional and serious. Her clothes are ironed and neat. Everything about her is perfectly arranged. She doesn’t look like she just wandered in off the street and wants to pick up some company for the evening. No, she looks like she’s ready to work hard and pay her dues in order to get a paycheck, in order to move forward.
What’s she running from?
A girl like Oriana could work anywhere. She looks like she belongs at the head of a company: not a tiny dive bar off I-70.
“I do,” I find myself saying. I shouldn’t be offering her anything without running a background check and conducting a proper interview, but something tells me she’s not going to be trouble. She’s not going to give me a hard time. Not this one.
Besides, this is exactly what I need.
It’s going to be the busiest weekend of the year and I could use some extra help around here. I’ve got Audrey, yeah, but one waitress isn’t going to cut it on New Year’s Eve. Unfortunately, my last server, Heather, just left me high and dry, so we’re hurting for help.
Oriana’s eyes light up for just a moment. Hope flickers, but it’s quickly replaced with fierce determination.
“May I please fill out an application?” She asks. “I have references.”
“When can you start?” I ask her.
“Excuse me?”
“When can you start?”
“I, um, now?”
“All right,” I tell her. “We pay hourly - minimum wage - and you keep the tips you make. No tipping out to anyone. That’s crap. Anything that goes in the jar,” I jerk my head toward the tip jar on the bar counter. “We split at the end of the night. If that sounds good to you, you can put your jacket in the back.” I jerk my head toward the break room. “Your purse can go up here in this cupboard,” I point to it. “I’ll get together the paperwork you’ll need to fill out.”
“Really?” She asks. Her voice sounds less confident and fierce now. Now she’s filled completely, totally with hope, and I wonder what the hell this gorgeous woman has been through to make her so happy to get a job at a crappy little bar.
“Welcome to the team,” I tell her.
“I could hug you,” she whispers.
I chuckle. “You’re welcome to anytime. Just don’t do it in front of the customers. They tend to get jealous.”
Now it’s Oriana’s turn to laugh. Her joy fills the tiny room. There are only a couple of people here: a group of old guys drinking bee
r in the corner. They’re hiding from their wives after work. They have another half-hour or so before they have to scurry home, but they don’t even look up when they hear her laughing.
“Thank you, Dane,” she says. “I won’t let you down.”
She moves to head toward the break room. She’s already slipping her jacket off, and I hear her fidgeting around back there for a few minutes. Whether she’s trying to calm down or get herself pumped up for her first shift, I’m not sure. Doesn’t really matter. I start sifting through drawers, trying to find the forms for her to fill out. It’s been a long time since I hired a new employee. I don’t even know if I remember how to file this paperwork.
When Heather ran off to get married, she walked out without giving me any notice.
“See ya never,” she told me when she left her last shift.
“Excuse me?” I said. What the hell was she talking about?
“I’m leaving town,” she said with a shrug. “Joe and I are getting hitched.”
