AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Part of me knows I’m going to miss it once I finally manage to get a nanny job lined up. It’s been a nice change from changing dirty diapers, and I’ll miss the loud kind of raucousness only a bar filled with a constantly rotating band of tourists can provide. Hopefully soon, instead of laughing with customers and serving them beers, I’ll be laughing at cartoons and putting together bottles of milk. But for now, I’ll enjoy this crazy energy while I can.
Sighing, my eyes sweep the room, looking for something that needs doing. Slipping a notepad into my apron, I head back out to the floor to clear away some glasses at the high tops and booths. Then I check in with the group of men standing around the pool table.
“Another round, guys?”
A chorus of yeses hits my ears, and I take a mental note of what they’re drinking before heading back to get their order together. Once the two Bud Lights, Guinness, and local IPA are ready to go, Soren pops them on a black tray with a nod and I take it back in their direction.
On the way, I see a familiar face in the last booth, closest to the back exit.
Colton Palmer.
My lips tilt down on one side for a brief moment, but I tug my smile back out as I drop off the round for the men at the pool table.
Then I take a breath before heading Colton’s way.
Everyone in town knows about what happened to the poor guy, even those of us who don’t know him personally.
To have your wife die and then find out she was shacking up with men she works with?
Ouch.
I don’t know the whole story—I doubt anyone really does—but the rumors are enough to know Colton was married to a woman who treated his heart like shit.
My chest pinches as I get closer, taking in the half-drunk beer resting in his hands, the somewhat gaunt expression, the bags under his eyes, and the beard he’s been growing in for the past few months. Even with all of that working against him, he’s still one of the most handsome men I’ve ever seen.
Tall and thick and juicy. It sounds like I’m describing a steak, but those are literally the words I thought to myself the first time I saw him walking down the main drag through town with his son sitting on his shoulders.
It was at the beginning of last year, and Leighton and I were walking one direction and he was walking in the other. I definitely did a double take, going so far as to drop my sunglasses out of the way so I could get a better look.
Leighton gave me a firm swat, letting me know he was married. Her older brother August is friends with Colton. I guess they went to college together on the east coast, but that’s all I really know.
What I do know is the last thing I want is to let anyone in Sandalwood see a Burns woman sniffing around a married man. My mother and sister have done that enough for all of us. No thank you.
Since I’ve been working here, I’ve seen him on two other occasions. Each of those times, he sat in that booth near the exit, ordered a single beer, and then just sat there. Not talking, not reading, not looking at his phone. And he’s got that Leave me the fuck alone expression down pat.
I know because it’s the look he gives me when I approach his table.
“Hi there,” I say, trying to stay upbeat and cheery. “You still working on that or can I get you another?”
His eyes drag angrily up my body, slowly, as if he’s downloading everything he sees. Over my scuffed black boots and striped socks, my bare thighs, my jean shorts and black apron, the pad of paper in my hand, over my work shirt before coming to a stop on my face.
And that anger in his eyes? It singes my skin like nothing else, a burning sensation flaring up in the wake of his gaze.
“I’m fine,” he says, his voice gravelly and sexy in a way I don’t want to appreciate.
“Okay, well let me know if you change your mind, ’kay?”
I’m only a few steps away when his voice hits me in the knees. While I’d like to say that deep rumble said something sexy, that couldn’t be further from the truth.
“And you can drop the fucking cheerleader act.”
His words take a second to register, but when they do, I spin around and give him a smile that’s bright enough to blind a mole.
“Sorry?” I ask, giving him a chance to correct himself on his own before I do it for him.
But the man doubles down, his face growing even cloudier, his eyes narrowing in my direction before he opens his mouth again.
“I said, you can drop the cheerleader act. My tip isn’t going to change based on the level of pep you infuse into your voice, or how much you shake your ass when you walk away.”
