I pry my gaze from Natalie and focus on Logan. “You don’t just get it on with a friend’s wife. Not even if he’s dead. We were friends for over two decades. How would you like it if you were married, you died, and I took up with your wife?”
“Since I’d be dead,” Logan says with heavy sarcasm, “I wouldn’t be able to mind, would I?”
“Stop with the drama,” Tucker says. “You’re overthinking this like a pussy.”
“Looks like it’s too late for you anyway,” Logan says, his gaze on the couple. “She likes him. You snooze, you lose, brother.”
“Fuck you guys. I’m trying to do the right thing here.”
“No, you’re using your loyalty to Evan as a crutch,” Tucker says. “The man’s been dead over two years. He’d be the first one to tell you to get over yourself, and if you were going to make Natalie happy, he’d be all for it.”
I shake my head, grab a towel and one of the bussing tubs, and watch Natalie and Mystery Man as I wipe down tables. She’s smiling, hanging on the guy’s every word. Not once does her gaze stray to the other people in the bar. Their conversation is animated and intimate. And so fucking annoying.
While I refill ketchup bottles, Lily, one of our waitresses on duty tonight, takes their order. She’s seven months pregnant, and I can tell she and Natalie are talking about the baby.
Natalie has always wanted a family, and, hell, I can’t even hold on to a relationship. The idea of having kids of my own is completely outside my wheelhouse. I need to let her move on. I need to let her have the life she’s always wanted. She deserves forever. I don’t even know what that word means. I see forevers cut short all the time.
Fuck me. Okay, fine. If I have to let her do this, I want to know the guy is worthy of her.
I return to the bar, where Lily is settling two drinks on a tray. “Is this for Natalie’s table?”
Lily’s smile is quick. “Yeah. Her date’s cute, right? I’m so happy to see her getting out.”
“I’ll take it.”
When I try to take the tray, Lily holds on. “I’ve got it.”
“I want to take it.”
“Why?”
“I want to check him out. Are we just going to let her date anyone?” I meet Tucker’s gaze. “Would you let Isabel date just anyone?”
Mention of Tucker’s sister reframes his thoughts, I see it in his eyes. He looks at Lily. “Let him take it.”
“Screw you guys. This kid isn’t free,” she says, indicating her pregnant belly. “I need the tips, and she’s a grown-ass woman who can make her own decisions.”
I pull out my wallet and put a twenty on the counter, then grab the edge of the tray. “There. Now let go.”
Lily takes the twenty. “If you screw this up for her, I’ll quit and let you handle this place when it’s a madhouse.”
“I’ve already fired you a dozen times. You’re a bad penny.”
“And you’re an ass.”
Yep, and I’m about to prove it.
I head toward their table with tension coiled the entire length of my spine. Outside of a building engulfed in flames, I’m an easygoing guy. So this sensation, one I can’t fully identify, is wreaking havoc on my nerves.
At the table, Natalie is smiling at some story her date is telling. I’ve known her for six years, and I know that behind that smile, she’s dying for this date to end.
She looks up, her expression not as surprised as it is wary. “Since when do you serve tables?”
“I didn’t get a chance to meet your friend. You didn’t introduce us.”
Her expression shifts toward annoyance. “Maybe that was by design.”
“Or you forgot his name.”
When her expression goes from annoyed to pissed, I know I hit the target.
The guy offers his hand. “I’m John.”
I balance the tray on one hand and shake with him. “Cole. Where are you from?”
“Ohio. You?”
The heartland of wheat and honey. Yeah, I can see that. “Here, Oregon. Grew up in the Portland area, moved here for a job.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m a firefighter.”
“Nice. Every kid’s dream job, right?”
I’m not sure if he means that as a slight, but it definitely hits a nerve. I’ve spent the majority of my life trying to prove I’m the opposite of my father, to myself and everyone else.
I earned a degree while working three jobs to keep the lights on for my dad, who was too lazy to be bothered with anything as taxing as employment. I continue promoting within the department because every achievement moves me one step further away from my fear of becoming him.
John’s comment hooks into my self-doubt and my fears, but he doesn’t seem to have much fight in him. In fact, he’s kind of noodle-y. I decide I need to see how he responds to pressure.
“What brings you here?” I ask, transferring the beer to the table in front of him.
“Thanks,” he says for the beer. “My mom lives in town, and I’m opening up an office for my insurance company.”
I certainly can’t say that’s every kid’s dream job.
When I reach for the glass with sparkling water and lime, I purposely hit the tray with my hand, fumble, and spill it down the front of the gauzy top Natalie’s wearing.
She gasps, and I manage to pull the glass back with at least half the water left.
“Shit,” I say. “Sorry.” I hand her my bar towel, and she scowls up at me. It’s so cute, I almost laugh. Then I realize the water has turned that gauzy white blouse into a translucent sheet. I hadn’t meant for this John guy to get an intimate view of Natalie’s picture-perfect breasts, nipples hard.
“Cole…” she says, her tone threatening as she dries her chest and tries to soak up the water in her shirt.
“I’m really sorry. You can use the hand drier in the restroom to dry out a little.”
She shoots me a death glare, but smiles at John. “I’ll just be a minute.”
When Natalie stands, I rest the edge of the tray on the floor and wipe down the table. When she’s safely inside the women’s bathroom, I sit in her vacant chair and meet John’s gaze directly. “There are a few things you should know if you’re going to date Natalie.”
“What… I, um…”
“Her husband, who was killed on duty, was my best friend, and she’s got a firehouse full of men looking out for her best interest.”
His face goes pale. If he was the kind of guy Natalie deserved, he’d plant a right hook in my face.
“One wrong sentence,” I say in the tone I use for volunteers who mess up something important, “and you’re going to have a dozen men just like me tracking you down and making your life miserable. So if you can’t handle that kind of scrutiny, you’d better end this before it begins.”
The door to the restroom opens, and Natalie comes out, tugging at the fabric of her shirt to continue the drying process. At least it’s not a second skin anymore. She looks up as I stand and work a few other tables nearby on my way to the bar.