Page 26 of The Red-Hot Stakes

I had a pounding headache, and karaoke was in full swing. The endless caterwauling of wannabes belting off-key renditions of tired pop songs didn’t help. Liam’s voice would soothe it, if only for a minute. I gritted my teeth at the ridiculous thought, then instantly regretted the motion.

Especially when Liam waltzed into the bar. My headache immediately multiplied, though I wasn’t sure if it was from seeing him or my own actions. He slid on to a barstool with a casual smile, and a flutter went through me, relief pulsing in its wake. I was more than ready to face him, to get out of this no man’s land of torturous what-ifs.

“Hey, Red, I’ll take a Guinness.” Then he winked.

I stood there for a long second, waiting for more. But that was it. He’s just going to ignore what happened? Pretend like it was nothing? I clenched my jaw as I whirled around to get his beer, trying to keep from seething. The dark liquid sloshed over when I plopped the glass in front of him, exchanging it for his card.

“So, throw any chips lately? Just to test for freshness?”

If he had been a steak, my glare would have cooked him to a nice well-done. I stalked away, heading for my table with a round of drinks and a huge plate of nachos. When I came back, Sarah was leaning forward eagerly as Liam retold the story about me beating up the guy in the parking lot. Great.

I went to wash glasses, knowing the noise would drown him out. But we weren’t busy enough to keep me occupied for long. Soon his familiar voice called out an even more familiar question.

“What should I sing tonight?”

My words had a bite to them. “Go find someone else to bother.” I started restocking glasses.

“I don’t know that one,” he teased.

Shooting him a glare, I grabbed a whole lemon, a cutting board and a knife then started slicing. I finished without mishap and put away the container. But when I went to wash the knife, my hand slipped, the blade cutting my palm. I yelped.

Liam rushed over and grabbed a napkin, pressing it to the bit of red bubbling out of my skin. “You don’t have to keep hurting yourself to get my attention. I’m sitting right here.”

And just like that, I snapped. “Sarah, I’m going on break!” I stormed through the kitchen, out of the back door and into the cool fall air. I leaned against the rough bricks, dragging in ragged breaths as frustrated tears spilled onto my cheeks.

Chapter Seven

The employee door opened once more, and to no one’s surprise, Liam appeared.

“Go away!” I nearly yelled, swiping at my wet face.

He shook his head, coming to stand next to me.

Overwhelmed and exasperated, I demanded, “Why do you keep coming here?”

“I like it when waitresses are mean to me. There’s a whole restaurant devoted to it in Chicago, and I was thinking of starting something like that around here.”

I wasn’t in the mood for his teasing, and I shoved off the wall, crossing my arms as I glared. “I want an answer, Liam.”

“I own this place, G.”

I blinked rapidly. That was the last thing I’d expected.

“I bought it the week you got hurt.” He stepped closer, glancing at the fresh scar running down my forearm.

“That’s why they fixed the floor. You made them.” And probably why I still had a job. When he nodded, I asked softly, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It was one of my more impulsive investments.” He chuckled sheepishly. “But the more I’ve come here, the more certain I am of one thing. I want you to help me manage it.”

I could only stare at him, stunned.

“You’ve got the ideas for it—I heard them all the other night.” He named a starting salary that had me gasping. “It’s on the lower end of things, but you haven’t finished your degree yet. I bumped it up some because of your experience, and as your ideas take off, we’ll work on increasing your pay. I’d like to implement one at a time, see how each one goes. You’d have a budget for marketing and supplies. What do you say?”

I stood in shocked silence for several moments. “I don’t know what to say. It’s a dream come true. Of course I’ll—” I stopped myself, reality washing over me, and I shook my head. “Wait, there’s no way I can work for you. We’re always at each other’s throats.”

Liam reared back. “What?”

I lifted a shoulder. “I know what you said in the diner last week, but I couldn’t work like that. You always pushing my buttons, crowding me, pissing me off on purpose.”

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