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But I’d also never felt more alone.
At the ripe age of forty, I’d really pushed my luck on ever settling down with anyone. A series of one-night stand and fleeting romances hadn’t turned into anything significant. I’d never been one to pine away, but after meeting the woman of my dreams last year, I wondered if my inability to hang on to things I wanted to keep for myself was getting in the way of what I really wanted.
I’d never let myself admit it, but deep down I wanted a partner. Someone to fall asleep next to who was still there in the morning.
That was why I’d been such a fucking mess the morning after I’d taken Sierra to bed and woken up alone, feeling like there was a huge hole in my chest where my heart had been.
She’d taken my shirt, too.
But that had been a month ago, and life had to go on.
“What’s your deal today?” Frankie drawled from the bar. I leaned against it, running a finger over the glossy wooden surface she was actively buffing.
“What deal?” I gave her a look, smirking as I pushed off the bar and started pulling the chairs off the tables, getting the place ready for another day of serving brunch, then lunch, then dinner, then closing down the kitchen and letting the riffraff trash the place until it closed at two a.m.
“You’ve just been moping around,” Frankie accused, frowning as she pulled her mousy brown hair into a big, lopsided bun on the top of her head. She had a lot to learn about life in general but I wasn’t the kind of man to lecture a twenty-three-year-old about anything, let alone life. The cheap engagement ring on her finger glittered in the morning sunlight.
“This is just who I am, Frank. Get used to it.”
She rolled her eyes and went back to buffing the bar in preparation for the brunch service. Frankie might be a chatty pain in my ass but that kid could make a mean Bloody Mary, that was for damn sure.
“Look, I was talking to Gus and Louis yesterday and the three of us agree that you need a day off.”
“So, y’all can run my business into the ground?”
“No, I think you need to go out and do something tonight. I can hold down the bar with the guys. Wes and Jules are coming in for the lunch rush and I need the extra money anyway to get my ticket to go see Chuck and his family for Thanksgiving this year.”
I eyed her as I pulled down the last chair. “I do stuff outside of work—”
“No, you don’t. And that house thing you got going on with your sister doesn’t count. That’s just more work, boss. Maybe you could go ride a horse or something at that rich guy’s house.”
“Grant Hallston, you mean.”
“Yeah, him. The guy with the hot wife.”
“Jesus, Frankie—”
“Come on, Pete! Go live a little. Gus says you’ve been acting weird since that lady came into the bar last month—”
“That,” I breathed, arching my brow at her, “is nobody’s business.”
She raised her hands in surrender and clicked her tongue. “Fine, but we don’t need you tonight. You’re not welcome here, and I will drag you out of this bar myself if you show your face tonight.”
I ran my tongue over my lip and stared her down. She had some balls, this one. I’d give her that.
“Fine, I’ll take the day off… from the bar. I do have some work to do in my office so you’ll have to find a different phone to call long distance today.”
She pursed her lips, a bratty expression drifting behind her dark brown eyes.
“You think that shit is cheap?” I laughed.
“It’s not, that’s why I use your phone.”
“Alright, Frank. Do as you please.” I walked out of the dining area and back to my office.
I fumbled with the fancy coffeemaker Keely and Moira gifted me for my birthday. I still didn’t know how to use it properly. It hissed and protested, beeping incessantly until I finally hit a random button and started brewing. I missed the Mr. Coffee brand machine that had been pushing eight years old, but Keely had thrown it away, saying I needed to step out of my comfort zone, or some shit like that.
With a fresh cup of black coffee, I sat down behind my desk and crunched some numbers. I put in several orders of stock. I made some phone calls. I argued with a supplier about the shit-water tequila he’d tried to sell me, and landed a deal on the top-shelf stuff as a compromise.
