It must be nice. Having someone. Sharing everything.
I have Vale. And it’s great. But it’s not the same thing.
I wink at Arrow as I toss a couple of bottles his way.
He snatches them out of the air. Spins both like he’s in an old Western gun fight.
“Show off,” I mouth at him.
We all love putting on a bit of a show for our customers. Well, Cal didn’t before Hayley, but since his girl waltzed into his life and shined a little rainbow-colored magic on his cold, dead heart he’s put a little more dazzle into his service. But me, I am all about entertaining. Give ‘em what they come for. Which is why it’s full on fun and frivolity in here tonight. The place has been packed for hours.
Vale’s talking to some blonde at the other end of the bar while he mixes her cocktail. It’s kind of odd for him. The dude is a sucker for redheads. Has to be the stress. And the lack of sleep. He’s finally cracked. It was inevitable really.
Shaking off my melancholy thoughts about commitment, I hook my phone into the sound system and pull up my Hot Bar Tracks playlist. Scroll until I find the one I want and hit play. The sudden quiet as the songs switch turns into a roar as I whip my shirt over my head.
“Oh yeah.” My foot starts tapping. It’s a tradition we started in college and not one of us can refuse the siren call of a room full of well lubricated women and a good shake what your momma gave you track. Well, except Callan but that’s why I made him promise these five minutes of wiggling would be forever a part of Line ‘Em Up. And now dudes across the country dance on Line ‘Em Up bars every Friday night. Because of me. You’re welcome.
Vale scowls at me, but he immediately presses a palm into the bar top and swings his legs onto the wood surface. Uh-huh that’s right, buddy. Just because we have a vacancy for a cranky bartender doesn’t mean you need to fill it.
At the other end Arrow pushes himself into a handstand on the counter, turns ninety degrees and comes back to his feet with a smirk that has some of the women surrounding him screaming. Gymnastics training. Which mother ducker knew that would come in so useful?
As for me. Well, no guts, no glory. I’m a big guy. Not as tall as Makai. A little over 6 foot, but I can still swing from the chandelier like that dancer in the Sia music video. Although in this case the chandelier is a light covered horizontal railing above the bar and I don’t need the blond wig. I grip the cool metal and Tarzan onto the glossy surface.
To my left Vale plucks his new blonde friend out of the crowd and starts grinding on her. He seems to have misplaced his rhythm tonight.
To my right two women climb onto the bar, competing for Arrow’s attention.
The two new guys, Dane and Six, keep serving the never-ending slew of buzzed patrons. Mostly mixing up buckets of Panty Dropper cocktails, because you know what really gets a girl amped... It’s not a trick question. It’s alcohol and half naked men.
I plant my feet wide, about to lower my hand to whatever hottie happens to grab hold first. Maybe it’ll be Maybelline. But preferably it’ll be the tall blonde. She was checking me out. And then I see the ghost of best friends past at one of the tables in the middle of the room.
Normally those tables are prime real estate, but right now the single women in the bar are clamouring at our feet. Some of the guys too. It means beyond the foamy front of the wave, it’s mostly boyfriends and friends who are waiting for our little song and dance routine to be over for another Friday night. It makes it impossible not to notice her.
The gorgeous girl from the train a week ago...
The voice that reminded me of my youth this afternoon...
Recognition flares in my soul as Jane Matthews lifts her gray gaze from the depths of her fruity pink drink and meets mine. “Jane?”
Our eyes catch. Lock. My heart stops. She takes a breath. It’s a singular moment, but it goes on and on and on. Or maybe it doesn’t. The roar of the crowd. The touch of someone as they grab my hand. One broken beat.
She glances away.
Flicks her gaze to the door. Back to me. And one final time to the door. She ducks her head and slips from her stool, the exit her only goal.
What the hell?
I cup my hand around my mouth as I jump off the counter and chase after her. “Jane?”
Chapter Three
Jane
Shit. Shit. Shit. This isn’t meant to happen.
He wasn’t supposed to see me. Not yet. Not today. I only came to the bar because I promised I’d have those barrels delivered myself. It took me all afternoon to find replacement barrels, by the way. Then I had to pick them up and bring them to the bar despite the fact that my workday finished hours ago.
Who the hell makes guarantees they can’t keep? This girl. And why? Because I’ve never been good at saying no. Because I hate not doing what I say I’m going to do. Because some guy who introduced himself as Hudson Kelly called me at work, and I had to see...
Curiosity got the better of me, okay. I had to see if it was really him. Or some other Hudson Kelly flirting with me over the phone in the same manner he used to flirt with all the girls.
Except the moment I bellied up to the bar, to tell them I had their barrels, I was certain it was him. Only he’s more... Hudson Kelly than I remember. Taller. Bigger. Wider. Bronzer. All dense muscle. Cockier grin. And those sparkling blue eyes. If I thought he was larger than life before, now he’s a supernova.
I should have left right then and there. He never would have seen me. He would have pulled some stunner out of the crowd to dance with him. Instead I ordered a drink and spied on him as he laughed and juggled bottles of liquor. I wanted to see him. I needed to. From afar. From in the back where he wouldn’t have to know I was in town... at least not yet. All well laid plans...
“Jane,” he calls out when I’m still a few feet from the exit.
I knew he’d remember me. We were neighbors for years. We’ve been best friends since high school. We went to college together. But recognize me? I hadn’t known if he would. Or if I would want him to. It’s been six years since the last time we saw each other. Before I moved to London. And while we still talk a few times a year I’m not the same girl I used to be. I’m two of that girl, compacted onto a tiny five foot nothing frame.
Yes, this was a mistake. But I can still get out of here. Don’t turn around. Pretend you didn’t hear him in all this din. The music’s loud. The people are louder. The women even more so as they clamour for his attention. No one would be surprised if you didn’t hear him calling your name. I slip through the doors and past the bouncers guarding the velvet rope. A line is gathered on the pavement.
“Jane, I know it’s you,” he calls out to me again, closer now.
Damn it. If I don’t turn around now I’m being rude. And he doesn’t deserve that. It’s not his problem that I’m not ready to come face to face with him yet. I stop and plaster a smile on my face, pretend I’m not scared to see how much I’ve changed in his eyes. That my heart isn’t racing a million beats per minute. Turn around slowly. “Hudson Kelly.”
His brow furrows and his lips twerk as though he can’t decide what to make of this meeting, while his baby blues study my face and drop to take in all of me.
And there is a lot of me to take in. So much. I wrap my arms around my waist under his steady observation. I’m mindful of what I look like. While he got harder all over, I got softer... everywhere.