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He chuckles. “It’s eleven now.”
“Aw, I’m glad he’s upped his standards.”
Maliki drops my favorite drink in front of me, a playful grin on his face, and turns to help another customer.
I hate this part.The part where I share him with them.
He returns when he’s finished serving their needy asses.
“You moving back in with your parents?” he asks.
“Unfortunately, yes. That’s something I’m not looking forward to. I plan to find an apartment, but everyone knows there aren’t many open rentals in this town.”
“And the boyfriend?”
I lower my head and take a long sip of my drink. “It’s, uh …” I gulp it down and sigh before clarifying, “Still complicated.”
He nods.
Devin begged me to stay with him until he graduated. When I didn’t, we agreed to spend time away from each other—physically, that is. We still talk, and he mentioned he was searching for apartments between Blue Beech and the town he had grown up in. I told him he was nuts, thinking we could move in together. My parents would cut me if I moved in with a man before marriage.
When I peek back up at Maliki, his attention is on me. Mine is on him. He’s wearing his signature Down Home Pub tee and a backward baseball cap.
He raises a brow. “Sierra is single then?”
I shrug. “Kinda, sorta.”
“What did I tell you about the kinda, sorta shit?” he asks in a scold-like manner.
Instead of making me another drink containing alcohol, I’m given a glass of water.
I play with the straw, jabbing a piece of ice. “We’re taking a break.”
I can’t stop myself from admiring his arms when he crosses them. Infatuation barrels through my blood. It’s absurd how drawn I am to him.
“I’m no expert, but couples takingbreaksfrom each other isn’t a sign of a healthy relationship, Jailbait.”
“Exactly. I’mjailbait.We’re young.”
“Twenty-two isn’t young, princess.”
“How old were you when you acquired the bar?”
“Twenty-nine.”
“Were you ready to settle down at my age?”
“Fuck no.”
“Exactly! Why does everyone like to give out advice but never take their own?”
“I also wouldn’t string you along if I didn’t know what I wanted. I’d be straight up and ask you to be straight up in return.”
We’re interrupted by my phone beeping with a text.
“Ugh, it’s my mother,” I say, reading it.
He strokes his face stubble. “Why’s that an issue? You love your mom.”
