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I deliver food to one table and grab a second round of beers for another.
“Holy shit,” Lex hollers, coming up beside me. “This place is packed.”
“Every year, townies and out of towners, come in to drink away the anxiety of spending the holidays with their family.” Lex snorts at my comment as Ford saddles up behind her, settling his hands on her hips and pulling her against him.
“Can we get a table for four?” She asks, “Nina and Steve are joining us.” I get the lovebirds settled in at a high top and make my way to the bar where Dean is putting glasses in the cooler.
“Do we need anything back here?” I ask him, referring to the liquor and beer.
“Maybe another case of Jack,” he hollers over the noises of the bar and I head towards the back to our stock room. The hallway that leads to the back door also has the restrooms situated on one side, plus our office and the inventory room on the other. I’ve got the key ring out of my pocket and I’m searching through them when I hear a slam come from out back and raised voices. I furrow my brow, detouring to the back door and swinging it open. Looking to the left I see Kolby has some woman I’ve never seen before pressed against the brick wall of the building, his hand wrapped around her upper arm.
“Seriously Kolby, you’re hurting me. Let go,” she says, trying to break free but he doesn’t loosen his grip.
“Don’t do this, Corrine.” He says, his voice menacing as his grip tightens and she winces in pain.
“Hey!” I holler and he whips his head towards me, dropping her arm and taking a step back.
“Go back inside, Whitley,” he says before turning his attention back towards the young girl who looks terrified.
“Yeah, not a fuckin’ chance when you’re out here with some young girl against a wall, ignorin’ her askin’ you to stop.” I cross my arms over my chest and prop the door open with my foot.
“Mind your business,” he says, roughing his hands through his hair before stuffing them in his pockets. “Go back inside.”
“Corrine,” I call out, “that’s your name, right?” She nods her head, fear still etched on her face. “Come here, sweetheart.”
She glances between Kolby and me, her eyes volleying back and forth before taking a step towards me. His hand shoots out and he grabs her forearm.
“Don’t you dare walk away from me,” he says, and she flinches again, wiggling her arm out of his hold before finishing walking the rest of the way towards me. I lean down and whisper in her ear.
“Go inside to the bar and ask for Dean. Tell him Whitley said to take you home.” She nods her head before scurrying inside. Looking at Kolby, his eyes are hard and pointed right at me.
“Never took you for a guy that gets too rough with women.” I say and he shakes his head.
“Again, it’s none of your fuckin’ business.”
“See, that’s where you’re wrong. This is my bar, which means whatever you do, inside and out of, is my business. Now, I suggest you get your ass back to the kitchen before I have you walked off the property.” He stuffs his hands back in his pockets and moves towards the open door and storms past me without saying a word. I release a shaky breath, my nerves and emotions on high alert. A hand drops on my shoulder and I scream, whipping around.
“Jesus, Dean. You scared the shit out of me,” I press a hand to my racing heart, and he furrows his brow.
“Everything okay back here? Some girl named Corrine said you needed me to run her home?”
“Yes, please. If you don’t mind. Kolby was out here, and they were arguin’. It looked intense, I figured she could use an escort.” He pulls me inside, pulling the door shut behind me.
“Do I need to talk to him?”
“No, that’s not necessary. We had words and he seemed to leave it at that.” He laces his fingers with mine and tugs me down the hallway, depositing me behind the bar before driving Corrine home. The rest of the evening passes, mostly uneventful. A few rowdy men but nothing Dean couldn’t handle on his own. Once we’re in the truck and on our way home, he presses me for more information about what happened out back.
“I came out, and he had her backed up against the wall, his hand grippin’ her arm. She looked scared,” I shrug my shoulders, lifting my hair up and securing it in a messy top knot.
“Who was she to him?”
I shrug my shoulders again, “girlf
riend maybe? Not sure, I didn’t ask. Just didn’t like the way he was handlin’ the situation, so I stepped in.”
“Alright. I’ll keep an eye on him at work,” he says, and I give him a small smile, before sliding across the bench seat and settling myself under his outstretched arm, as he finishes the drive home.
Whitley
