Page 4 of The Red-Hot Stakes

“No, I didn’t.” He shook his head. “You called me your friend.” When I glared, he arched an eyebrow. “Rock, paper, scissors, best two outta three wins. I win, you’re my friend.”

“I win, and this never happened.” I quickly dried my hands and faced him across the bar.

We held out our hands and chanted together, “Rock, paper, scissors, shoot.”

His rock beat my scissors. Dammit. We did it again. My rock beat his scissors. I held my breath as we faced off for the third time, and I ended with rock once more. He grinned, covering my fist with his paper and squeezing. I growled as I yanked away from his touch.

“Sorry, friend. You lose.” Liam put his hand to his ear. “I think you have something to say.”

“Fine. You win.” I gritted my teeth, wincing as I added, “Friend.”

He shoved away from the counter. “And now I know exactly what song to sing.”

If only I could have hidden in the back while he was on the stage, but no, the dirty glasses were seemingly endless. And here came Sarah with more, along with another knowing look while the familiar opening of I’ve Got Friends in Low Places started.

Liam scanned the room. “I’d like to dedicate this one to all my friends.” He raised his glass to his booth in the corner. But then his gaze landed on me, his lips tilting in a self-righteous smirk.

I bristled with anger. This is why I don’t get along with Liam. If you give him an inch, he’ll take a mile. Or more. I sniffed. Low places, indeed.

His voice was, unfortunately, perfect for this song. I continued scrubbing with renewed vigor as I tried to tune him out. But I lost the battle when the rest of the bar joined in, as if determined to taunt me. My anger rose while I sorted the stack of clean glasses.

The song finished just as I ran out of space, and I grabbed a full crate then stomped toward the kitchen. In my angry haze, I forgot about the uneven threshold lip. Again. My toe caught, and I went sprawling. The entire crate of glasses flew into the air, time freezing as I waited for them to rain down around me.

The noise was deafening—glass smashing on every side, some into walls and shelves. The chaos continued for an eternity. I covered my head as best I could while I waited for it to stop. A sharp pain pierced my forearm, but otherwise I stayed mostly unscathed when it finally quieted once more.

“Gina? Don’t move.”

Of course, it’s Liam. I winced as I moved my arm, pain shooting through it, something wet dripping on my nose. How’d he even get back here? This is an employee-only area.

Liam squatted in front of me. “I said, ‘don’t move’. Can’t you follow directions for one second? You’ve got a huge shard of glass sticking out of your arm, and I need to make sure there aren’t any more.”

Wyatt gaped over Liam’s shoulder. He seemed unharmed, and I was thankful he’d been out of range.

“I’m fine. My arm’s the only thing that hurts.” I lowered my other arm and straightened, wincing at the tinkle of glass joining the pile on the floor as it slid off me.

“Please.”

The pleading note in his voice combined with an earnestness in his expression made me pause. I sighed, reluctantly obeying. A relieved breath whooshed from him before he went back to circling me.

“Gina! Are you okay?” Sarah’s worried words carried from the doorway to the bar.

“I’m—”

“What happened here?” Mr. Weston’s furious voice sounded from the back stairs that led to his office.

Liam stood. “Sir, are you the manager?”

“Owner. And just who the hell are you?”

“Even better. Your employee is seriously injured because of workplace neglect, and I will be taking her to the emergency room as soon as I finish making sure she’s capable of walking.” Liam gestured to me. “Okay, Gina, go ahead and straighten your back. I need to check your legs.”

“Excuse me. Sir!” Mr. Weston stormed up to Liam. “Identify yourself at once.”

Liam clenched his jaw, silently apologizing to me before he stood to face Mr. Weston. “I’m Liam Davenport.”

The pale man went even whiter at Liam’s full name. The Davenports were well-known in our area for their political involvement and obscene wealth. Even my cheap boss wouldn’t go toe to toe with a billionaire.

“Gina tripped on an uneven surface while working in your establishment. One I have heard from several employees that you were made aware of. Multiple times.” Liam stepped right up to Mr. Weston’s now-sweating face. “So if you don’t want my family’s full team of lawyers suing you within an inch of your life, you will get your ass back up those stairs to fill out all the paperwork necessary to resolve this incident.”

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