AllFreeNovel
Share Us
1
“Frank, dude, you shouldn’t bring that in a bar.”
“Same goes for bringing a baby in a bar.”
Corey chuckled and rubbed his daughter, Amelie’s, back, winked, and headed to the other end of the bar to continue checking over the inventory list.
He couldn’t help himself, giving Frank shit for bringing in his knitting materials. His wife was in the early stages of Alzheimer’s and she loved to knit. Frank decided he needed to learn so when she completely forgot who he was, he could share something with her that she loved. The need to knit. Frank came in every Tuesday during lunch, had a drink, did some knitting, and left. Corey could always count on him without fail in the routine.
“He isn’t wrong.”
Corey rolled his eyes at Tamara, swaying back and forth as Amelie’s eyes fluttered open and closed. She was fighting so hard to stay awake. He was okay if she fell asleep in his arms. He enjoyed holding her while she slept. She was so peaceful. He might’ve panicked the first week or two after she landed in his lap, but as time went on, things got easier. He now panicked when shewasn’tin his arms. He never knew he could love someone as much as he loved his daughter.
“It’s not a big deal.”
Tamara put a hand to her hip. “You can’t keep bringing her in every day. Pretty soon, she’s not going to fit in that handy strap you have around your chest.”
It was called a baby carrier, and a damn expensive one, too. But hell, if he was going to do this fatherhood thing, he was going to do it right. His daughter would have everything she ever dreamed of. The best products, the best clothes, the best care in the world.
Something he didn’t have.
Oh, he knew his mother tried to make everything seem like they weren’t dirt poor, but it was impossible to hide. The clothes that didn’t always fit right. The shaggy hair because they couldn’t afford haircuts. The used school supplies that told every kid he didn’t get anything new for the upcoming year. He got teased so much that it hurt to remember growing up. So he didn’t think about it. He pushed it to the back of his mind, pretending it didn’t exist. That the hurt and pain didn’t exist.
No way in hell that would happen to his daughter.
Of course, he wasn’t going to point out the correct term to Tamara. She didn’t have kids, nor did she care. Since he started working in the bar again after three years of not speaking to his brother, she hadn’t been very welcoming. Likehehad done something wrong. He was the one slighted by his family. But whatever. No point in hashing old news, especially with her. It wasn’t any of her damn business. She could choose to hate him all she wanted. It wasn’t like they were friendly three years ago when he had been around. She’d always had a problem with him since the moment they met and he wasn’t sure why. Didn’t care either. It wasn’t his problem if someone didn’t like him, not when he had never done anything to her to emit such hostility.
When Corey didn’t respond, she cocked a brow. “And it is a bar. It’s weird bringing your daughter to work. Some customers don’t like it. One of these days, someone is going to complain to the wrong person.”
“Thanks for your unwanted advice, Tamara. Now go do your job.”
She huffed and walked away without arguing. Because, well, she couldn’t. He was the boss around here, whether she liked it or not.
He, for one, liked it. He had missed the bar—his brother, Rick. Or Brick, as his friends like to call him these days. Corey hadn’t warmed to the nickname yet, and he didn’t foresee himself ever calling his brother that. Ever since he could remember, he’d called his brother Ricky. It gave them something in common. That ‘y’ sound at the end of their names. It made him feel like he was a part of the family, when most of his life, he had felt like an outsider. His dad’s name was Richard. Of course, Ricky was named after the old man. His mother’s name was Marge. He was stuck with a name that didn’t fit with them. Which made sense when he had been the unwanted child. At least, to his father. His mother tried to make up for it, giving him all the love she could, but his father never made it easy. His life had been difficult from the moment he was born.
His asshole of a father had made sure of that.
Amelia made a small whimper. He released the pent-up breath he had been holding and frowned, soothing her with small circles to her back, hoping to dispel the hurt he might’ve caused. Thinking thoughts of his father never brought anything good. Look what it had just done. He had squeezed his daughter harder than he intended.
“Sorry, sweet pea. Daddy didn’t mean it.” He kissed the top of her head, smiling when her eyes fluttered close once again. “That’s right. Nappy time.”
He continued to sway back and forth as he continued his task, marking the inventory up front and what he’d need to grab from the back. Once in the storage room, he’d have to mark what he’d need to order. Of course, in between all of that, he had to help customers as they walked in. Yeah, Tamara was working as well, but he liked chatting with people and giving them a warm welcome.
The bar wasn’t only a place to drink; it was home. A home he hadn’t been a part of in the last three years.
Three long, tortuous years.
Also something he shouldn’t think about, especially while holding Amelie. Although he had made amends with Ricky, it didn’t magically make the hurt disappear. He had scars that would take a long time to heal. If they ever would.
He shot a glance behind him when he heard the click-clack of heels. They always had a distinct sound. Being a lover of women, Corey had learned early on the best way into a woman’s—well, he wouldn’t say heart. But he knew how to please a woman. He knew the best flowers, the best chocolates. Hell, he even knew his shoes. It always impressed women when he knew the brand they were wearing. Anything to get in her pants, that was his motto.
Usedto be his motto. He was a single dad now, and his sole focus was his daughter. The only woman who mattered anymore.
The woman heading his way was off-limits. That didn’t mean he wasn’t friendly, considering she was family.
“Afternoon, Jezebelle. You look lovely today.”
His brother’s wife smiled, then licked her bottom lip, telling him she was nervous about something. Her hair was pulled back into a beautiful chignon, her lips a light shade of pink, not even smudged from her quick lip-licking. She never wore lipstick, but she liked adding a small color of lipgloss. She didn’t need anything more. Her beauty was natural, and his brother was one damn lucky man. She wore her nice tan winter jacket, and based on the sound of the heels he heard, she was wearing the red pair. It was useful to retain information and use it to his advantage, especially when it came to women.
