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“Shows you’ve got some grit. More than I figured. I figured you were stringing it all out, playing the victim. So I’m sorry about that.”
“We’ll call it a wash.” Eyes closed, she leaned her head back a moment, then jolted. “Jesus, I left the bar. Bailey—”
“Can handle it for a few minutes. I’ve kept my eye on her. You’re training her right. Of course, you’ve got prime material to work with.”
“I do, but I have to get back.”
“Well, your color’s coming back, and you stopped shaking. Try standing up, and we’ll see.”
When she did, Opal nodded. “All right then.”
She led the way out to where Miles paced in the hall off the lobby. “Over to you,” Opal said, and went back toward the arch.
“Come on. I’ll drive you home.”
“No, God, no. I have to get back.” Before he could order otherwise, and she saw that in his eyes, she held up a hand. “I need to. For myself, Miles, I need to. If I don’t, he wins another round.”
After a long look, he gestured to the archway.
“I’m sorry about—”
“Save it,” he told her.
He went back to his stool; she went back behind the bar.
After grabbing a bar mop, she gave Bailey’s arm a squeeze. “Sorry for running out on you.”
“It’s okay. You’re okay?”
“Yeah, all good.”
“The fries came in, and I filled a table order from the speed rack.”
“Great. Can you do me a favor?”
“Of course.”
“Find out what the guy I nearly accosted and his party are drinking. I want to send his table a round on me before last call.”
“Sure.”
Using the bar mop to keep herself steady, Morgan checked on the stools. The spicy fries couple didn’t have much to say to each other, she noted. Alcohol and carbs couldn’t always fix a bad mood.
The two women giggling together as they drank Chardonnay made her think of the dead woman and her friend in New Orleans, and her heart hurt.
At the end of the bar, Miles worked on his phone.
“Party of five,” Bailey reported. “Two Heady Toppers, a mojito, margarita rocks, and a Merlot.”
“Thanks. How about you handle the beer and wine?”
She took the drinks out herself, let the cooling night air wash over her as she crossed the patio.
“On me,” she said as she served, “with a mortified apology.”
“Well, thanks, but no big deal. Might’ve been if you’d landed that punch I think I saw coming.”
“My right hook’s devastating.” Smiling, smiling, smiling, she flexed, and cleared a couple of empties while his companions laughed.
