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Prologue
Griffin
* * *
All the lights in the bar are off, floors are clean, and tables wiped down. Chair legs stick up toward the ceiling in every direction. I'm wide awake for the last few minutes of the night, but that buzz won't last long once I'm back home. Not at three in the morning. The moment my back hits that bed, everything shuts down…I think of her…and I pass out, then wake up and do it all over again. And I try to let go of what happened.
Clearing my throat, I shove it all down and go about the nightly routine.
That's something I've learned over the last few months of owning this place. Afternoons are slow to start. The town warms up, and people trickle in for good food and even better beer. Things pick up around dinnertime and then it's in full swing into the evening. Crowds are rowdier depending on whether there's a game that night, a get-together, or a guy's night.
It stays loud and bright until just about one in the morning. Gradually, people stop shouting over the music. Renee doesn't have to talk as loud to take orders and settle tabs.
Then, finally, there's that stretch from two to three where people leave in ones and twos, some of them past ready to go and others reluctant to head home. By the time we close at three, it's usually been empty for only ten minutes. Tonight there was one holdout at two, and he went home. We cleaned up, staff left…and now it’s just me and Renee.
It’s at this moment that the tension rises. The glances happen more frequently and my pulse races with an undeniable heat. I make one last pass behind the bar, letting out a long sigh and attempting to focus on business, not her gorgeous curves. Everything's in order for tomorrow. The last glasses from the dishwasher are still warm in their rows, ready for the first orders when we open up again.
There was Renee to think of, and she's been more distracting than anything. It feels like there’s still something there. I can’t be the only one feeling it. Emotions sit heavy in my stomach as she leaves and I turn off the lights, ready to leave too but not wanting to go home without saying anything to her.
The December snow falls outside in large flakes. They're coming down in lazy waves from the dark night sky. They light it up and the chill reminds me of the last few weeks.
As I zip up my jacket, I glance outside. Renee's out there, standing by her car. The streetlight above her makes the snow sparkle on her hair. She tips her head back, catching a snowflake on her face with a laugh I swear I can hear even from inside the bar. Her car puffs exhaust out into the snow. It'll be warm by the time she slides behind the wheel, which is exactly what I want for her. To be warm and safe…and with me. I want what we had back. I don’t understand where it went wrong.
My boots roll quietly over the wood floor of the bar as I make my way past the shadowy booths and the waiting tables to the back door. The building keys clink on the keychain.
The first step outside feels quieter than the silence inside the bar. Snow makes everything quieter, and this late at night, there's no traffic on the street. Renee's car idles softly at the curb. It feels like we could be anywhere in the world, with nobody watching.
I like that feeling. Like we've finally got a few moments to ourselves, without having to worry about small-town gossip or other people's opinions or pretending.
I lock up the bar and test the handle. I glance back and she’s still there. Maybe she does want to talk. Maybe she feels what I feel.
As my boots crunch the snow and my hands slip into my pockets to stay warm, her eyes are on me. Her red hat sets off her pink cheeks, and she gives me a slow, sad smile. It's been a long night and she's still as beautiful as the moment she stepped through the door to start her shift. More beautiful, maybe, with the snow caught in her lashes and the whole town sleeping around us.
I walk through the layer of snow in the slim parking area until I'm close enough to lean in for a kiss.
I almost make it. I can feel the heat of her breath and feel how close we are together when Renee stops me with a finger on my lips and a quiet laugh.
“It's over, isn't it? No more reason to pretend,” she says, her voice clear and soft through the cold air. Is there disappointment in her tone, or am I imagining it? “Besides, you're my boss. Pretty sure you can't do that.”
“Didn’t stop us before,” I comment and wonder if it’s all in my head. If there really was nothing there for her. She only huffs a laugh and smiles. Is she teasing me? Does she still want me? I can’t tell. But I know sadness in her eyes when I see it. The question begs to be asked: what happened?
My heart beats hard, sending blood rushing to my face. The beat is loud in my ears now that all the noise from the evening is gone, and...this isn't how I thought this would go. Somehow, I thought...
I want to step closer to Renee, want it so bad I can taste her lips on mine, but I lean back an inch and kick at some of the rocks that came loose from the snow. I swallow down my disappointment.
I shove my hands in my pockets so I don't reach out and touch her. I don’t care that we were pretending. If that's how it started…it turned into something more. Didn’t it? It's killing me that she thinks that’s all it was. That after everything, she still thinks it was fake.
Renee tucks her body tight to her car, her other arm over her stomach, and I think about saying it. How hard could it be to tell her the truth?
It was never pretend for me.
What we did behind closed doors…that wasn’t for an audience.
It's late, and everybody in the whole damn world is asleep, and nobody has to know what we say to each other. Nobody has to know anything, but Renee should know this.
“What if?—”
A pair of headlights shine on the snow, and a car rumbles along the dirt road, slow to account for the snow and the late hour. I lean back, but don't let myself take the step. What does it matter if they see? Why does anything matter except Renee?
