"I can handle the Tate brothers. Now get behind the bar and make my drinks."

Can handle the Tate brothers?

I'm not one to judge, but I guess you just never know what people are into these days.

I stand watching her roam the room for longer than I have any right to before doing exactly as she says.

I catch her more than once standing off to the side during the shift and watching the group celebrating with Adalynn and Cash. The sadness in her eyes is nearly palpable. I bet she doesn't see a happy couple beginning their lives together. She sees everything she hoped for with Hux and it's a reminder of what she lost.

How have I let myself forget that major aspect of her life?

In my selfishness to kiss her, I failed to recall that she lost someone she loved, someone she vowed to spend the rest of her life with.

I swallow down the regret and a level of hatred I've never felt for myself before. The woman lost her husband, and I thought it was a great idea to try and stick my tongue down her throat.

Her history is what has kept me away for the last three years, and nothing has changed that. She's not here to flirt with me and hook up. She needs a job, which means she needs money, and I'm complicating that for her. Something I never wanted to do.

It doesn't matter how pretty she is or how she looks in her jeans. It doesn't matter that I can't seem to stop staring at her, that I smile when she smiles, and I want to murder every person in here that makes that smile dim.

These are all my problems and have everything to do with my inability to control myself. Pushing the blame off on her was wrong. Throwing away her application the first time she submitted it because I was tempted to save her damn phone number was all on me.

I've officially turned into a creep, and it started long before I was caught creeping around in her little backyard.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

I have a smile on my face when I look up and see Riley Wilson, the owner of the local catering company, sitting at the bar.

"Hey there," I tell her. "Need a refill?"

The question is stupid because I can clearly see that her drink is full.

She frowns at me. What is it with the women in town looking at me and changing their moods? Is there something wrong with the moon and stars? Is Mars or Jupiter in retrograde or something?

"I don't blame you," she says as if I didn't even ask her a question. "You probably don't want to talk about it."

I chew the inside of my cheek as I try my best to analyze the situation. Does she really want to know what I'm thinking or does she want me to ask her what's on her mind? This used to not be so hard, but blaming Claire for my jumbled brain would be egotistical and, honestly, more than a little narcissistic.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course," I tell her, grateful she took the initiative to speak again rather than forcing me to decide how to handle the situation.

"What would you do if people just stopped coming to the bar?"

"Like if we had a slow night? I'd have the chance to get the monthly maintenance done on time and not have to be up here at the crack of dawn on the first Sunday of the month."

She gives me a wry smile before shaking her head. "No, I mean if there was no business in town. No one came to drink here."

My brows furrow together. "Where are they drinking then?"

She huffs a humorless laugh. "The fact that you can't even imagine that happening means you've never had to wonder. You might be the wrong person to ask."

"Listen," I say, leaning on the bar and getting a little closer to her. "Tell me what's wrong, and I can make suggestions."

"I don't think my business is going to make it." She stares into my eyes, and even if the words she just spoke weren't serious, I can easily see how much this is bothering her.

"Shit," I mutter before giving her an apologetic smile. "Sorry for being so dense, but in my defense, I bought an established business, and it's the only bar in town."

"We're not the same," she says, another sad smile on her face as she drops her eyes back to her drink.