Page 69 of Grand Escape

I sniffed back the tiniest of tears and swallowed the lump in my throat just as Tony approached the bar. Wearing a white dress shirt and black slacks, he’d come from the valet stand where they were busy making arrangements for a fireworks display to take place after dark.

“Don’t tell me,” he said with a grin. “You’re getting the wedding bug too?”

“Shhh,” I said with a glare, scolding him.

“I’m whispering. I just saw Teddi crying by the restrooms, and here you are a big mess. What’s happening? I’m afraid to drink the water.”

This made me giggle. “Stop, I need to be quiet.”

Plucking a piece of pineapple out of my tray, he smiled at me. “Your man came back to sweep you off your feet, so you’ll be next. Watch and see.”

I wasn’t certain, but it felt like Tony was happy for me.

“He’s not here to sweep me off my feet,” I said quietly, turning around to fill a tray with guava passionfruit mojitos.

“You do you, Ry, but I’m telling you, it’s not gonna get you far.”

“Hush up. You worry about you, and I’ll worry about me, which right now includes keeping my job.”

Popping another piece of pineapple in his mouth, Tony said, “Okay, Miss Grand Escape. Management is salivating over you. You could give everyone food poisoning, and they wouldn’t care.”

I scowled at him. “Don’t you dare say something like that. Now go plan your fireworks. Go!”

He winked and left just as the crowd moved my way, swarming the pool area.

Smoothing my hair back, making sure the low bun at the nape of my neck was still firmly in place, I took a long inhale. I could do this. Serving drinks was my escape, and my hands itched to find a familiar rhythm.

Yesterday, it had been so nice when Adam sat at the end of my bar, patiently waiting for my time ... or me. I’d mixed drinks all day, and he never bothered me. Of course, he insisted on taking me to dinner before I begged off early, claiming I was exhausted, and he should at least make an appearance at the rehearsal dinner off property. He didn’t push; I’ll give him that.

Smiles were on every face as a sea of pastels and bright colors filled the pool deck.

Chewy had invited everyone he knew, so I shouldn’t be surprised he’d included Adam. I thought back to when the happy couple was here in June for some time away from Sarah’s kids, and yet Chewy spent an hour every afternoon at my bar on the premise that he needed a drink and some damn good bartender advice. Thinking back now, I realized most of his time was spent asking questions about me.

Little sneak.

But there was no more time to dwell on it, as a group of wedding guests were gathering in front of my bar.

“Welcome to Chewy and Sarah’s paradise,” I said, greeting them. “We have a guava passionfruit mojito to start.”

Oohs and aahs filled the air as women said, “I’ll have one,” and men grumbled but took one anyway.

“Can I get a Scotch on the rocks?” one of the men from the wedding party asked.

“Absolutely.” We were under direct orders to give the guests whatever they wanted. I’d tried to talk the bride and groom into a small crafted cocktail menu, but Chewy wouldn’t hear of it.

“Good answer.” Dressed in an outfit similar to Chewy’s, the man smirked. “If you said no, I was going to tell you I’m the groom’s brother and pull rank.”

“Lucky you, your brother said his guests’ wishes were my command.”

He chuckled. “Sounds like the asshole.”

Knowing my audience, I grabbed a bottle of Lagavulin and poured two fingers over a heart-shaped ice cube. Yes, there was no detail left uncovered here. Between the special cocktails and the full bar menu, we needed all the extra help we’d brought in.

“Brian,” the brother said, introducing himself to me as I slipped him the Scotch.

“Nice to meet you, Brian.”

“And you are?”

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