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Marcus snorts loudly. I finally look up to see he’s taken a break from sweeping the floor to rest his arms on the handle of the broom, watching me with a grin on his face. The man with his head freshly shaved bald is wearing a pair of black suspenders with jack-o-lanterns on them attached to his black jeans, with a matching bowtie. He moonlights as a bouncer here at the bar on busy nights, most people intimidated by his size enough to calm the fuck down before he can toss them out on their ass. But if you’re not trying to start a fight, nor trying to argue with the bartender about cutting you off, he’s just a big, goofy, nosy bastard who somehow pushed his way into my life over the last six years.
“The reports are all perfect, just like they are every year when you pretend like you’re going over them in great detail.” With an annoyed sigh, I quickly smack the binder closed, and he continues. “I’ve been managing this place since I was seventeen years old and wasn’t even old enough to serve drinks. Wicked Pub and Grub practically runs itself for you, because I’m awesome at what I do.”
He’s right. But I’m not about to admit it. His ego is big enough without me giving it a boost. “What’s your point?”
I try not to glance down at my phone again, but it’s impossible. Sidney is never late for work, unless she’s in jail again….
For fuck’s sake, she better not be in jail again.
I still can’t get the sounds of her wheezing last night out of my head. I curse my family for the hundredth time since I left Oregon for making me get on the road much later than I wanted. They’re always pissed at me when I leave for Harvest Grove every year, ignoring them and their bullshit for a solid month, but they were downright hostile this year. They didn’t think I was serious about giving up Prescott Lumber. Going by all the missed calls and texts messages I’ve been ignoring, I’m assuming the paperwork finally arrived. Or one of them went to my condo and discovered it empty.
“My point isthat.” Marcus laughs, jerking his chin at me when I look up from my phone again. “Your complete inability to focus on anything but Sidney while you’re here, under the ruse of ‘checking on your bar,’ when we both know everything could easily be emailed to you or chatted about over a few phone calls. It’s so adorable I want to puke, but it’s been six years, and we’d all like to stop watching this same rerun again. It’s getting boring. Give us something new to watch, Daddy!”
Marcus’s smile grows bigger the harder I frown.
“I’m not talking about this with you.”
The broom handle suddenly clatters to the floor when Marcus claps his hands together a few times, looking like a six-and-a-half-foot-tall child who was just told he could eat all his Halloween candy for dinner.
“Oh, God, it’s happening,” Marcus whispers, eyes wide, bouncing up and down on the balls of his giant feet, while I just shake my head at him. “You don’t want to talk about it, which means there’s anitto talk about. Holy shit, you’re finally going to make a move on her!”
I’ve never been scared of anything in my life. But right now, hearing Marcus voice out loud what’s been going on in my head, I’m fucking terrified. Terrified of a five-foot nothing brunette and what’s going to happen whenshefinds out there is absolutely no business reason why I’ve come back here every year. If she’ll be happy about it or pissed. If she’ll want something more with me or laugh in my face. I promised myself I would stick with Prescott Lumber until I rescued it from the dumpster fire Pops left it in. Get my family’s legacy back to what it once was,beforeI could even think about something more with Sidney. It took me six years, but I did it. Six years of hell, and now it’s finally time for me to do what I want with my own life. It’s finally time for me to see if I’ve done enough over the last six years to earn Sidney’s trust.
A loud scream over by the door saves me from having to reply to Marcus.
“I swear toGodsomeone needs to move that stupid thing,” Stacy Sullivan complains with a hand over her heart.
The giant, furry spider with red glowing eyes, which just jumped out at the woman as soon as she stepped on the mat inside the door, slowly retracts back down to the ground. I want to laugh, knowing how happy it probably makes Sidney every time that thing scares the shit out of someone when they walk into the bar, but seeing the thirty-five-year-old owner of Harvest Grove’s hair salon marching toward me with a Tupperware container in her hands makes me groan.
“Ford Prescott, you are a sight for sore eyes! Welcome back to town.”
“It’s lovely to see you again too, Stacy,” Marcus chirps while he resumes sweeping the floor, rolling his eyes at the back of her head when she gives him a distracted wave over her shoulder before she sets the container on top of the bar in front of me.
“I had some extra time this morning, so I whipped up a batch of pumpkin muffins for you.”
Stacy slides the container toward me with one long, talon-like fingernail painted orange with little black bats. With an annoyed grunt, I grab the container and stick it under the bar with the other two.
“Appreciate it,” I mutter, flipping open the binder and pointing down to a random page. “Better get back to work before I get fired.”
Stacy laughs so long and so hard I start to wonder if the scare from that fake spider broke something in her. When she finally quiets down, she reaches across the bar to pat the top of my hand. “Give me a call if you needanythingwhile you’re in town.”
With that, she gives me a wink and then turns and walks away. She gives the spider a wide berth when she gets to the door, jumping over the mat with the trip wire hidden in it as she leaves.
“It’s like she doesn’t even realize Sidney is going to kick her ass.” Marcus chuckles with a shake of his head. “How many Tupperware containers does that make since you got here? No, don’t tell me. Okay, tell me, you magnificent bastard. This is why you need to lock shit down with Sidney. You just keep giving the poor, desperate, single women of Harvest Grove hope every year.”
Knowing Sidney is going to be annoyed as soon as she sees the containers is one of the only reasons I ever started accepting them in the first place. As much as I hate all the attention the minute word spreads that I’m back, and as much as I don’t want it, the first time a woman tried to hand me a container in front of Sidney the second year I was here, Sidney ripped it out of her hands and threw it right in the trash. It was enough to make me rethink my stance on accepting baked goods from all the single ladies.
I realize it’s a shit thing to do, but I can’t bring myself to stop. I like that Sidney gets a little territorial over me. I like imagining that she’s jealous as fuck, when she’s really just insulted on my behalf that these women think a few dozen cookies is going to make me want to jump into bed with them, like I don’t have higher standards.
She doesn’t even realize she set the bar of standards high the day I met her.
“There were pumpkin churros and apple pie Snickerdoodles on my porch when I left this morning, and pumpkin spice donuts and banana bread sitting in front of the door to the bar when I got here earlier,” I tell him as Marcus abandons the broom again and joins me behind the bar.
“Abby McKenna’s pumpkin spice donuts? She makes good fucking donuts. God, I hate you so much right now,” he complains, grabbing the container under the bar that the owner of Boo Bites dropped off, stealing two from inside before putting the lid back on.
“Does your wife know you lust after another woman’s donuts?”
“My wife doesn’t care, as long as I put my cream stick inherdonut hole when I get home.” Marcus smirks around a mouthful of dough.
