Page 8

Chapter Eight

“I hope I don’t regret this, but sure,” I said, setting the card inside my book.

“You won’t! Trust me,” Sheila said, backing away. “I’d do it if I could. The Mister and I want a new fridge, but it’ll have to wait. I need to get moving. Have a good day now, okay?”

“You too,” I said, my shoulders dropping as she turned away.

I tucked the card between the pages of my book and immediately felt a pang of regret. Why couldn’t I just say no? It wasn’t like I needed the money right this second, and the thought of that bar scene made me cringe internally. All those people, the noise, the chaos — it would be absolutely dreadful.

I sighed, watching Sheila’s retreating form. She seemed so excited about this opportunity she was passing my way, like she was doing me some grand favor. Probably in her mind, she was.

A new set of chairs for the porch would be nice. Maybe a swing even. The chairs left behind by the previous owner were far from comfortable, and I did hope to spend more time outside enjoying nature. I could use some new clothes, too. Everything I owned was too… well, too nice for all the dirt and bugs in the country.

Still, none of it was worth subjecting myself to whatever rowdy nightmare awaited me at the bar. Maybe I could still back out.

I went inside, my head buzzing with conflicted thoughts. The card felt like it was burning a hole in my book. I pulled it out and tapped the number on my phone.

It rang once. “Steven.”

The voice was gruff but not unfriendly.

“Hi, this is Everly Montana. Sheila from May’s Diner gave me your card,” I said, using my business voice. “She said you were in need of someone to help out at your bar tonight, but I wanted to let you know that?—”

“Ah, yes,” he said, sounding relieved. “Glad you called. I’m in a real bind. What kind of experience do you have?”

I swallowed hard, feeling a bit stunned. “Uh, well, none. So I understand if that’s a problem.”

“Nah, it’s as easy as pie,” he said, immediately dismissing my concerns. “You’ll learn. We’re not serving fancy cocktails or anything here.”

It was obvious I wasn’t going to be able to get out of it. I paced the floor, watching my feet move.

“Just gotta pour beers, maybe mix a Jack and Coke. Can you be here at seven sharp? I’ll show you around right quick before things pick up,” Steve said.

I hesitated for a moment. “What does it pay?”

“Right to the point, huh?” he said with a chuckle. “I like that.”

“Sorry,” I said with a sigh. “This was sort of sprung on me, so I have to move some things around.”

The only thing I had to move around was what time I’d crawl into bed. But he didn’t need to know that.

“Sure thing. I really appreciate this. I can give you seven hundred for the night since I’m in such a jam.” He paused for a brief moment as if waiting for me to accept. “You can keep your tips, too.”

Seven hundred plus tips for one night of pouring beer was far better than I expected. That would easily cover new chairs and a porch swing.

“Directions?”

“I’ll text you the address.”

“I’ll see you at seven,” I heard myself say before I could change my mind.

“Perfect.” He hung up without further pleasantries.

I stood there with the phone in my hand, wondering what I’d just gotten myself into. Seven hundred dollars for one night of work was too good to pass up, not that he’d even given me a chance to come up with an excuse as to why I couldn’t do it.

Oh, well. I’d gotten through worse things in my life.

I spent the rest of the day trying not to think about my evening commitment and relax. Before I knew it, the afternoon had slipped away.

Standing in front of my closet, I surveyed my options. Most of my wardrobe consisted of tailored business attire, sweats, and pajamas.

I settled on a pair of dark jeans that I’d only worn a few times and a navy silk blouse. It didn’t fit quite right, and I’d only bought it because Annie said it looked fabulous on me. I wouldn’t be heartbroken if it got ruined.

I pulled my hair back into a simple but cute ponytail and applied minimal makeup. There was no sense in trying to impress anyone at a rural bar, and I certainly wasn’t looking to attract any attention.

At 6:45, I grabbed my keys and my phone before heading out to my car. The evening air was brisk, carrying the scent of wild honeysuckle and lilac from somewhere nearby.

With the bar being on the outskirts of town, it didn’t take as long to get there as it would have had I been going into town. I passed only two other vehicles on my way, which was somewhat comforting. Maybe the place wouldn’t be as crowded as I feared. Then again, if it wasn’t going to be busy, why would he need to have someone else come in to tend bar?

As I rounded the last curve, I caught sight of a building that resembled a house more than a commercial establishment. The parking area already contained a handful of vehicles, which probably belonged to the others I’d be working with. A sign reading “The Timber Tavern” hung over the entrance, while a neon light in the window simply flashed the word “Beer” over and over.

I pulled into an empty space off to the side, turned off the engine, and sucked in a deep breath. For some reason, I was more nervous about stepping into the bar than I had been going into a meeting with top executives for an important business meeting.

The difference was at my job in the city, I knew my shit. But out here, I had no idea, and I was sure everyone would notice.

“Seven hundred dollars,” I reminded myself aloud. “Plus tips.”

With a deep breath, I hid my purse under my seat and stepped out of the car. It was just one night… I could handle anything for one night.

I walked into the tavern, struck immediately by the woody scent of aged oak that had been soaked in beer. The interior was actually nicer than I’d expected — rustic but clean with a long bar running along one wall and scattered tables on the other side. It was clear that Mr. Perkins ran a successful business based on decor and how much he was offering to pay me.

Behind the bar stood a woman who could have stepped off the pages of a magazine. Her wavy red hair fell in glossy waves around her shoulders, and she moved with the kind of easy grace I’d always envied. She was wiping down the bar with practiced efficiency, looking up as the door closed behind me.

“Hey there,” she said, her smile warm. “What can I get for you?”

I smoothed my hands nervously over my jeans. “Actually, I’m Everly Montana. I’m supposed to be helping out Mr. Perkins tonight?”

“Oh,” she said, nodding. “You’re the one who will be helping me tonight, huh?”

“That’s me,” I said, pushing my shoulders back. “Not too busy?”

She shook her head. “Not yet, but it’ll pick up.” The young woman, no more than twenty-five, wiped her hands on a towel and reached across the bar. “I’m Donna. Steven said he found someone, but he didn’t mention it would be a woman.”

“Nice to meet you,” I said, shaking her hand. “I should warn you that I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“Don’t worry about it. Friday nights can get pretty crazy, but it’s not like brain surgery or anything,” she said, turning toward the door. “Steven! Bartender is here.”

“Thanks,” I said, pressing my lips into a thin smile.

She waved a hand. “No problem. I’m just glad you’re not some guy who’s going to brush up against me all night. Or grab my ass.”

I opened my mouth to tell her she had nothing to worry about as far as those things were concerned, but the side door swung open. Steven, wearing a black polo and jeans, came out with an unreadable expression.

“Wasn’t sure if you’d show up,” he said, jerking his head toward Donna. “She’ll show you what to do, but let me give you a quick tour.”

“Sure,” I said, stuffing my hands into my pockets.

I followed Steven as he gave me a perfunctory tour of the small establishment. He pointed toward a hallway off the main room.

“Restrooms are down there. Men’s on the left, women’s on the right. Got a small kitchen in the back. Nothing fancy, we just serve basic bar food. Wings, fries, nachos, that sort of thing. Paul will handle that all himself tonight. You won’t need to worry about it except to maybe bring someone their order.”

“You just want me to make sure glasses stay full,” I said, jerking my chin back toward the bar.

“You learn quick,” he said with a half smile as he gestured toward another door. “That’s a storage room. Don’t go in there unless Donna tells you to get something specific.”

I followed him back to the bar, where a man in his fifties with a trucker hat sat. He glanced over at Steven and then at me before returning his attention to Donna as she set a bottle of beer down on a coaster.

Steven checked his watch and shook his head. “I gotta run, but I’ll try to check in later tonight to see how things are going. But Donna could run this place, so she’ll get you all up to speed.”

“That’s right. I probably deserve a raise,” she confirmed with a grin, leaning forward and resting her hands on the bar counter. Her extremely low-cut top barely contained her generous cleavage. “It’ll be fun.”

“Not too much fun. Got a business to run here,” Steven said, patting a hand on the man’s shoulder. “You doing good, Bob?”

“Oh, yeah,” the man said, taking a big gulp from his bottle. “Parked the semi in the yard and hopped in the pickup before my wife could make me do a single chore at home.”

Steve laughed. “We’re glad to have you. Invite her over.”

“I’ll think about it,” Bob said, taking another drink that was probably at least half the bottle.

“All right, I gotta jet,” Steven said, pointing to the bar. “Envelope in the register for you. Take it after we close tonight.”

“Thanks,” I said.

Steven nodded. “Appreciate the help on such short notice.”

“Anytime,” I said, instantly wishing I could take it back.

Donna pushed herself away from the counter. “Let’s get you acquainted with everything. Come on back.”

I stepped behind the bar, feeling like I didn’t belong, as she pointed out the essentials.

“Beer taps are here. We’ve got six local brews and the usual domestics. Wine’s in this fridge, but no one ever orders that. Hard liquor up on these shelves, mixers down below. Glasses are underneath. Cash register’s pretty straightforward.”

She showed me how to operate the register, pointing out the envelope Steven left for me. Next, she showed me how to pour a proper draft beer and where to find the coasters or anything else I might need.

“Most folks order simple stuff,” she said, studying me.

“Okay,” I said, breathing as I wiped my hands on my jeans.

She laughed as she shook her head. “Don’t be nervous. You’ve got this. It’ll be beer, whiskey neat, and maybe a Jack and Coke here and there. Nothing that complicated. If someone orders something you don’t know, just call me over.”

“I don’t want to be a bother,” I said, biting my lip.

“You won’t be,” she said.

Just as she was about to show me where the napkins were stored, the front door swung open with a squeak. I looked up, instinctively straightening my posture.

“That’s Paul. He’ll run the kitchen,” Donna said, turning back to the napkins.

The man was tall with broad shoulders, dressed casually in a T-shirt with the bar’s name printed in a small font on one side and his name on the other. He ran his fingers through his dark brown hair and looked up.

I froze as I realized I’d seen the man before… but where? A sharp jawline and those intense eyes… my mind raced, flipping through mental images until it landed on the right one.

Oh God. The woods.