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He glanced up sharply. “You’re moving?”
“In two months. It was supposed to be sooner, but they haven’t yet gotten funding in place for the project they want me to work on. So I have to wait.” She pushed a swath of hair back over her shoulder. “I hadn’t expected to stay in Bliss Cove this long, and it’s past time for me to leave.”
“What’s the job?” Grant grabbed a rag and scoured the top of the bar. The sinews in his forearm flexed with his rapid movements.
“Software engineer. I’ll be working on cloud systems.”
“Weren’t you doing some programming contract work?”
“Yes, but this is a full-time job with potential for advancement.” Her mouth twisted. “At least that’s what they told me.”
He tossed the rag aside. “You don’t believe them?”
“Another beer over here!” a guy called from the other end of the bar.
“Hold up, Pat,” Grant snapped before settling his gaze back on Rory with theI’m waiting for an answerlook she’d come to recognize.
Maybe the scotch had loosened her tongue because she found herself confessing. “I’ve worked in the high-tech industry since I was a teenager. All through college, I worked different jobs and internships. I’ve probably worked for five or six different companies over the years. I’ve dealt with every situation you can imagine. So while I would very much like to think they’d consider me for advancement, even leading my own project, the stark reality is that women are frequently passed over for that kind of thing. Even women as good as I am. And believe me, I’m damned good.”
“I believe you.” He leaned back against the counter, his shoulders tense. “So why are you taking the job?”
“Because I miss the work, and I’m the best person for it.” She dragged the scotch toward her and took another sip.And because, really, I can’t just take contract jobs and work at Sugar Joy forever.
“I love the coding and analyzing,” she continued. “I’ll get great benefits. I guess I’m still holding out hope that I’ll soon havetheperfect job, you know? The one where I can use all my skills and even lead my own project. Plus, I’ve learned how to deal with all the shitty stuff.”
A frown carved deep lines on either side of Grant’s mouth. “What’s the shitty stuff?”
“Come on, man, I’m thirsty over here!” Pat yelled.
With an irritated sigh, Grant pushed away from the counter and strode to the end of the bar to refill the other man’s glass. He paused on the way back to put more peanut bowls on the bar—another Mousehole tradition he’d kept.
“Have you ever thought about serving sugared nuts, Grant?” Madeline Fox, who owned the bath-and-body shop Naked, approached the bar and perched on a stool. “I have an excellent recipe for roasted nuts with sugar, cayenne, and cinnamon. Spicy and sweet is the best combination, don’t you think?”
Rory barely managed to withhold a snort.
“I can see why you’d like it, Madeline.” Grant set a bowl of plain peanuts in front of her.
“Why’s that?” Madeline plucked a nut from the bowl and began shelling it with her perfectly manicured fingers.
“Because you’re spicy and sweet, aren’t you?” Amusement crinkled Grant’s eyes.
“In the right circumstances, I certainly can be.” Madeline licked the inside of the peanut shell.
Rory yanked another slice off the fried onion. With her thick blond hair and long legs, Madeline was sexy as hell, but Rory had seen countless women hit on Grant Taylor to no avail whatsoever. He was unfailingly polite and courteous, and he frequently flirted right back, but he never took them up on their overt offers.
Unless he did, and Rory just had never seen it happen. Besides, what man could resist the siren call of Madeline Fox with her knockout body and perfected expertise of all the girly stuff that had always eluded Rory?
Her stomach tensed. Must be all the grease from the onion. Grant was right. She should eat more salad. Or at leastasalad.
Madeline leaned closer to Grant and whispered. He turned and pushed the button on the plaque of an ugly plastic fish hanging on the wall. The warbly strains of Elvis’s “Love Me Tender,” sung in a nasally voice with bubbles popping in the background, began playing. The fish came to animatronic life, mouth gaping open to form the lyrics, and its scales shimmering with silver lights.
Madeline clapped. Cheers and laughter rose from the other bar patrons as the fish performed its nails-on-a-chalkboard rendition of the classic song.
Rory gripped her glass and suppressed the urge to throw it at the grating little robot. Grant had put the fish up on the wall after he’d bought the tavern. Upon request, he’d push the button that made the fish sing, or he did it to amuse people. Women, specifically.
He refilled Madeline’s wineglass and said something that made her giggle. With a wave, she picked up her glass and sauntered back to her table.
On a purely objective level, Rory got why women flirted shamelessly with Grant all the time. With his thick, wavy brown hair and chiseled features enhanced by an ever-present stubble, he was aesthetically very appealing. Not to mention, he was tall and broad-shouldered with a deliberate way of moving that spoke to an innate confidence.
