AllFreeNovel
Share Us
It seemed a good idea at the time. Funny thing is, my degree isn’t very helpful in my current situation. It didn't really prepare me for tax evasion, bigamy, and employment.
He leans over the bar, again not quite in my space, but close. Close enough that I notice his brown eyes are flecked with gold. “What does a poetry major do?”
“Teach. Write. Barista if they can get it.”
He smiles in a non-smirk way. He has a dimple. How is that fair?
“Which of those do you do?”
“Nash, more coffee down here!” One of the men yells.
Nash? He is Nash? Well, that settles it. My life has not magically turned around.
“In a minute, you old geezer.” He turns his attention back to me. “Now, where was I...”
“You're Nash? Nash McKendrick?” Of course he is. I’d been hoping for an older man. I do better with older men. Well, no. That isn’t exactly true.
“Guilty.”
I glance down at the customers he is ignoring. “Maybe you should help them?”And give me time to formulate what I’m going to say because all I have on my mind now is that damn dimple.
“It's just my dad. He can wait.” He nods his head at the men. “Say hi to the nice lady, Dad.”
His dad doesn’t look old enough to be his dad. But he does look awfully familiar.
“Hi, nice lady,” the man says. And then he smiles and my knees weaken a bit. Wow. How do I know that smile? Wait a minute...He is...he is...
“I'll save you some mental gymnastics,” Nash says. “That down there is Brandon McKendrick and sitting next to him, Jacob Stone. Formerly of Ironwing, the band. Currently the Cliff and Norm of Ironwing, the pub.”
“Your dad is a rock star?” I don’t know a lot about current music or rock music in general, but even I recognize the name Ironwing. Why I hadn't put it together earlier, I don’t know. I just assumed there really was such a thing as a bird or something called Ironwing.
“Was a rock star. Now he's just a barstool warmer.”
“Why?” I look around again. The place doesn’t exactly scream “cool.”
“He created the name, the bar owner, and handcrafted the actual wood bar. I guess he feels squatter’s rights.”
I rub my hand along the wood. “Itisa lovely bar.”
“Thank you. We spent a long time on it.”
“We?”
“Yeah, Dad and I. There was a time I thought I’d go into woodworking just like him. Instead, I heard the siren’s call of the pub.”
The pub is a tribute to his father. It is written all over his face. He is proud of his dad. Of the wood bar they handcrafted. Of the pub. I’d really been hoping that Nash McKendrick would be more of an investor like me, with no personal ties to the place. That would make my life much easier. But easy doesn’t seem to be in the cards for me lately.
“What's your name, sweetheart? And what brings you to Brazen Bay to picket my establishment?”
Double damn that dimple. And that charm. I hate charming men.
“My name is Tru.”
“I like that,” he says, leaning on the bar and waiting for me to finish. “And what brings you to Brazen Bay, Tru?” God, he smells like the sea or something. I shake my head.
Don’t get distracted, Gertrude.
“I own this bar.”
