Page 1 of Crash and Burn

1

Then

The stubborn stain wouldn't go away, no matter how hard I scrubbed.

With a muttered curse, I threw the rag down on the table. I placed my palms flat on the sticky surface and slumped forward, head bowed.

It wasn't the stain frustrating me. Not really. I was happy to be cleaning up after messy bar patrons. It meant the bar had customers — a rare occurrence these days.

No. The frustrating thing was knowing those few customers were all we would get tonight. That meant the tip they'd left was all I was going to get, too.

It was also frustrating knowing we had a rival bar in the same building doing so much more business than us. They didn't advertise and they didn't even have a public-facing door. How that Walt guy managed to attract so many well-paying customers to his secret bar, I had no idea.

I'd seen some pretty well-known people walk through those doors over the years, people you'd no doubt recognize if you saw them. I'd been taken aback when I'd first watched the lead singer of the hottest rock band around stride into the secret door that led to Walt's bar, but by the third and fourth time, it had become routine. I'd never seen the inside of the bar, but I had to assume it was something special to attract that kind of customer.

"Tough night?"

I jumped at the voice speaking up from behind me, then calmed as the deep tones registered, my tense shoulders easing and my heartbeat slowing.

"You get off on that, don't you?" I accused.

"On what?" Grant asked, feigning innocence, although he couldn't completely suppress an amused smile. "I just asked a question."

Grant's deep blue eyes sparkled, bright and shining in the dim bar lighting. Muscled upper arms bulged underneath a short sleeved black t-shirt. It was tight enough I could see the outline of his toned torso. His dark hair curled a little around his ears. A single strand fell over his forehead as he cocked his head at me.

"You okay?" he asked.

The curve of his full, utterly kissable lips made my stomach flutter. I forcibly dragged my attention back up to his eyes and away from his mouth.

"Just a little frustrated," I replied. "Slow night means fewer tips."

Grant made a sound of understanding and ran a hand through the bristled hair at the back of his head.

"I hear you," he said.

I didn't know too much about the state of his finances, but if they were anything like mine, he was in dire straits.

"Come keep me company, Liz," he said.

Grant was one of the few people who called me that. My friends called me Lizzy and my parents called me Elizabeth. Having a special nickname just between the two of us made my heart glow in my chest.

"It's boring over there all by myself," he continued.

Any excuse to spend more time in Grant's presence was a good one, so I wiped blonde strands out of my eyes with the back of my hand, not wanting to get the tabletop residue on my face, and followed him.

"Aside from the slow night, how are things?" he asked me. "How's Mittens?"

I tossed the cleaning rag into the sink and took a seat on one of the stools. Grant turned on the sink and began washing the cloth for me.

He always asked about my cat. Sometimes I thought he cared more about that little demon than I did.

"She's still having fun destroying my apartment," I replied. "Yesterday I caught her pushing a glass off my table."

Grant chuckled, the laughter echoing in the deserted bar. His deep voice was like smooth, melted butter. I could practically feel it on my tongue, could practically taste it. Could taste him.

"She was probably just exploring," he said. "She's still a kitten, right?"

"She was looking me right in the eyes as she swiped the glass with her paw," I replied. "That brat knows exactly what she's doing."