Page 7 of Wolf's Forbidden Curse

"Huh?"

"It was a joke," he said, laughing at me. "A bad one, I now see. Go upstairs and change, wash your feet off, and come back down when you’re less shaken up, okay?"

"You mean… I’m not fired?"

"Fired?" He drew back with surprise. "Why would you be fired? It was an accident."

"But you warned me not to move too quickly, and?—"

"And you couldn’t have known that Rory was going to whip around so fast with all those glasses in hand," he said. "I swear to god, that kid always finds a way to start trouble."

His use of the word ‘kid’ felt a little more insulting than accurate. If I were to guess, I would’ve said the man I ran into had been around my age. And his name—Rory—wasn’t what I expected either, but it actually fit him nicely.

Rory.

It had a good ring to it.

"I’m assuming you don’t want to work the rest of your shift with a soaking wet shirt, and I’m worried that you might have glass pieces in your skin, so you really should go shower off." He put his hand on my shoulder and steered me out of the supply closet. "Call me if you need anything. There’s a first aid kit under the sink, but if you need to go to urgent care, I can close early and drive you."

Again, I had no idea what to do in the face of Al’s kindness. I stared at him in confusion, and after a couple of seconds, he snapped his fingers in front of my face. "Yoo-hoo, earth to Katrina. Are you sure you’re okay? Did you get hit on the head or something?"

"Wha– Oh. No. Sorry. I’m all good. And I’m going upstairs."

I didn’t want to second guess this generosity in case that would make Al himself wonder why he was being so nice to a poor excuse for a bartender like me. Plus, the skin under my shirt was starting to itch, and I was dying to get out of the wet clothes. Outside in the bar, I spotted the man on his hands and knees, desperately trying to clean up the mess with a stack of napkins. I smiled but looked away before he could see me. From our short interaction earlier, I could tell that this man would prove to be a distraction. It was best to go upstairs and shower, then come back down after I was certain he and his friends had already left.

Then, I could truly focus on my work and make sure I didn’t make any other fireable mistakes.

An hour later, I was wearing my only other clean pair of jeans and a t-shirt I’d taken from a donation bin outside a food bank when I was in New York City the month before. It was tie-dye and ugly as hell, but it covered all the important bits, and I wasn’t trying to impress anyone anyway. My hair was short enough that just rubbing it with a towel helped it dry most of the way, and I didn’t even bother putting on another face of makeup. All I had was cheap mascara that was clumpy and expired, and an eyeliner pen that was so dull that I had no choice but to give myself raccoon eyes with it.

Maybe once I got my first paycheck, I could buy some drugstore makeup and upgrade my look a little. I heard that women who put more effort into their appearance got better tips in food service, but tonight was going to be a wash regardless. The bar was only open for another two hours, and I was honestly just feeling lucky to still have a job.

Downstairs, there were fewer people drinking at the bar than when I left. The mess had been taken care of, and the man who was at least partially to blame—Rory—was nowhere to be seen. His crew was gone as well. I sighed with relief and joined Al behind the counter. The woman he’d been flirting with at the beginning of my shift was still there, but she was taking a phone call at the far end of the bar.

"Feel better?"

"Immensely," I said with a smile. "Thanks for letting me change and wash the beer off."

"Not a problem," he said. "It would’ve been a nightmare to keep working with all of that on you." He nodded in the direction of the front door. "Rory and his friends just left. He waited around for a while, wanting to apologize to you again in person, but I told him I didn’t know when you would be returning. His friends were getting antsy, so eventually, they took off. He told me to let you know he’s really sorry and that he’ll pay to replace your clothes. He left his phone number on the back of his receipt if you want to call him."

"That’s not necessary," I said. "My clothes weren’t ruined. They just need to be washed in hot water. You got a laundromat in town?"

"Sure, but you can use my machines if you’d like," said Al. "Just leave your clothes in a bag by my back door tonight before you go to bed, and I’ll throw them in for you."

"Oh. Um. Okay."

Did this guy ever quit being so nice?

"Great," he said. "Now, just to keep any potential spills to a minimum, I’m going to keep you behind the counter for the rest of the night. Is that okay?"

I laughed. "Yeah. That’s fine. I’ll finish wiping everything off and clean some glasses. You go ahead and see if your new friend wants a refill."

"Who?" He feigned ignorance. "You mean, Missy?"

"If that’s her name."

"I wouldn’t say we’re friends, per se," he corrected me. "She’s just in town for the summer, and this is her second time in the bar."

"Well, go give her decent service so she decides to come back for a third time. I’ve got everything covered over here."

---